It is . . . my pink scarf.

To be honest, once I realized my powers I felt a tad guilty, but hey, I got over that…

Here’s the deal. Whenever I wear my scarf, whenever wherever, someone tells me how awesome it is. They can’t help it.

So, now, I put it on every day wondering what unsuspecting innocent will be my victim? (Last time it took 1 hour, and that included 40 minutes of driving alone).

And when they find I-like-your-scarf or what-a-pretty-scarf involuntarily pouring out of their mouths, I say Thank You and smile graciously on the outside while I’m MWA-HA-HA-HAAAAA’ing and mentally putting another notch in my scarf-conquering belt inside.

But I wanted to gloat share this insight because maybe you, too, have those times when you feel blue, or your prescription ran out you need a tiny boost from a total stranger in order to feel better about yourself.

My advice is this: Get your own an awesome scarf, because you ain’t getting mine a) getting compliments feel good, b) manipulating the human race feels good, and c) having just one thought of hopeful expectation for your day was one of Oprah’s favorite things may save on your liquor store bill.
No promises on c).

Yes? What’s that? I’m listening…

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Don’t get me wrong. I’m not against starting a new eating plan with the new year. Really, who starts anything on a Saturday except a hangover? No one. We humans need some external event to shake us up and drive us towards a healthier existence for pretty much everything, like New Year’s, or your high school reunion, or becoming pregnant, or getting kicked out of your house, or a Monday. Just something.

And I know this issue is loaded and complicated and emotional for those of us who ride the rollercoaster, so these ideas are just one item to put in your basket as you sort through the marketplace of food and its relationship to your body and your self. No one has The Magical Answer for you although I’m told France has a pill….

But I’m here on the other side, the stabilized side, to give you three food tips if you feel you must “be good” and do the D word. They will support you, help with cravings and fill you full of vitamins, protein and fiber.

1. Beans. I know, the musical fruit. But ease into it, a little each day, and your body will adjust, I promise. Plus, they’re packed with fiber and protein and other good stuff. And for those of you (like me) who need variety in life, there’s lentils, garbanzos, pintos, navy, black, and on and on. Experiment with hot or cold options, plain or tossed in soups or salads. I’m told they help to even out your blood sugar level which will help with those evil cravings.

2. Fat. I know you’re running from this and it seems counter-intuitive, but eat fat. Every day. I’m not talking sit down with a tub o’ lard hey, who’re you calling a tub o’ lard?. I’m talking raw (or roasted at home) nuts, seeds, avocados, and oils (yes, some oils are better than others, but that’s a whole other blog post…). Do not be afraid of good food like I was! I think it was Cynthia at Cookus Interruptus (a fun site with cooking videos and comedy) who said if you eat foods that have had the fat removed, your body will still be looking for that fat and not feel satisfied. I am all for satisfaction, so stay away from anything that says “fat-free.”

3. Veggies. I’m telling ya right now if you are dieting and only eating lettuce or broccoli, I was not you will not be able to maintain when you’ve reached your goal have you seen my new yo-yo?? *ahem*. Expand your vegetable horizon. Experiment with types of veggies and methods of cooking them. I swear, I’m beginning to think if I toss a dog turd in olive oil, sprinkle with sea salt and roast it in the oven, I’ll love it. Gross, yes unless you ask my dog. But the point is that those veggies you grew up thinking were gross may not be so gross after all. So be a man and try some! Frankly, I believe increasing your vegetable consumption is the key to the kingdom along with an icy shot of Citron Grey Goose as needed….

Before you know it, you’ve broadened your menu horizon, you’re eating tons of good stuff every day, you’re not feeling deprived, and guess what? Your body is adjusting (and hopefully you’re moving it around several times a week in some way that you like).

And then when you reach your goal, you won’t abandon yourself because this time along the journey you realized what truly feeling good feels like, with more energy, strength and focus, and you won’t be able to ignore it those times you and I revert back and start feeling crappy. You’ll want to have healthier and more varied eating, not because it’s weigh-in time, but because you know you’ll feel better that way.

Then you’ll be on the other side, the stabilized side. Where you can relax and love food again.

Are you eating any new, healthier foods this year?

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It’s not you. It’s me. It’s actually you.

I had hoped we could have some fun together, but I’m seeing problems now that are hard to ignore. For starters, you’re totally obsessed with the children of the world. Day and night, night and day, they seem to be all you think about. How is an ordinary and somewhat high maintenance woman to compete?

But it’s not just that. You’re, shall we say, a tad judgmental about it all. Naughty, nice, good, bad, all your love is completely conditional. I’m sure if you held me to that standard, I’d be getting that famous lump of coal, coal you like to coerce behavior with, coal you make those poor elves mine.

Which brings me to the elves. The more I know them, the more they seem like slaves. There’s really no payroll, is there? Sure they sing while they work, but I can’t get comfortable with that. How do you sleep at night?

Actually, between the snoring and the sleep apnea, you don’t. You should consider a better health regime, San. I’m sure once you drop out of the obese category, you’ll sleep better. That and getting Rudolph off the bed. I know he’s your favorite, but still. Hello? Antlers. Plus, sitting around 364 days and then an insane energy burst one day of the year would not be good for anyone.

Anyway, I’m sorry it’s not working out. Maybe you just need someone better suited to your lifestyle. I know you said it’s a marriage in name only, but you may have been on to something with that Mrs. Claus in the first place. She’s certainly tolerant, if nothing else. I bet if you put some effort out, she may come back from St. Thomas. That chief elf couldn’t really mean anything to her.

Best of luck to you,
Me

P.S., My kid would love an iPad2 and an Xbox 360 with Kinect. Thanks bunches!

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Does anyone like endings? They seem to just stress us out and make us reach for a big, stiff hey, hey watch your language, buddy drink, I was gonna say.
If you’re over the age of nine months days, you know that they are a huge drag. Can you ever feel happy about an ending? Well, possibly a few people can, I guess…
But we’re not talking about them. Pay attention.

We non-paying customers seem to voluntarily head straight into things that seem good or enriching or fun, but clearly have an ending. Relationships, vacations, chocolate chocolate cake…but my best example for pretty much everything is television.

Pick a show you love. Watch it. Think about the characters in your off-time you do that, too, right?. Get involved. Guess what? Canceled! Even those stalwart classics that we thought would never end, do , I’m looking at you As the World Turns.
Yes, we’re completely bummed and left with a big, empty feeling when our show is done.

And yet, what do we do?

Thanks to Netflix, not only do we start watching shows again, we pick shows that we already know before we even watch Episode 1 have been canceled.
And frankly, no matter how many times I watch that Firefly series, knowing it will end, I nonetheless feel surprised and ripped off when I get to the last episode.

So, what do we do with that? We mourn, we pace around, we vent, we grieve, we vent we polish off that bottle of malbec, we shake our heads at the injustice, and then like a strung-out addict in a filthy, back alley with two dollars, a friend and a rat scurrying across our ankles, we go back to search Netflix for more.
Surely, this time we won’t be disappointed…

Got any new (or “new” old) shows you’re watching this fall?

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Who does she love? Who does she hate? Who is she never going to let set foot in our house ever ever (not ever) again until possibly tomorrow?
‘Cuz one day, she’ll have friends, and not Facebook “friends” she has never met, but actual people who understand her, people who get her jokes and her strikeouts, people who she’ll totally jump in front of a bus for or at least sit through their looooooong venting sessions well, more likely her long venting session and nod compassionately, pretending to listen because they love you even though you’re a psycho.
And if she ever blows up and loses a kindred spirit, she will find it leaves a permanent mark worse than that Sharpie marker incident. Yes, friends need to roll with a friend’s occasional sassiness, absolutely particularly if she’s freakin’ hilarious, right?!

But sooner rather than later, I hope she learns quicker than her mommy a smidge of gentleness with those special ones.

Is that even teachable? And how?

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What with all the pumpkin decomposing going on.

When we last joined our garbage on the porch story, Vampire Kitty was looking a bit saggy, a bit un-Botoxed British actress-y. And Dog Pumpkin had its dark side growing from within.

Let’s see how they’re doing…

DAY SEVEN
What a difference a day makes, eh? Poor Vampire Kitty, she seems so deflated.
DAY EIGHT
I did not see that coming! Bat lost a wing! Although, in bat hindsight, totally predictable since he was sitting by the front door a metropolitan runway with his wings all vulnerable, hanging out there.

Meanwhile, Vampire Kitty has some nasty stuff happening internally. It almost looks like my shower drain hair growing in there. Zombie pumpkin hair?
DAY NINE
There’s really no magic serum to save Vampire Kitty in this story. (As an aside, those smiling pumpkins seem to be holding up. Perhaps it is all attitude? Or that they were carved most recently…)
DAY TEN
Bat got a little triage, see? But Vampire Kitty is turning rapidly into Pancake Kitty. And she’s leaky.
DAY ELEVEN
Okay, this is just plain gross.

Which is what the Hubs finally said.

Leaving us with this:
Aw. I miss their slimy, leaky, stinky pulpiness.

(Which is also what I said about the cancellation of As the World Turns.)

Well, you laughed, you cried you were grateful not to live with me or have to come over this past week.

Thus concludes our little gourdy drama…

Pumpkin bread, anyone?

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One thing of a gazillion around here that she ignores me on is that all-time kid-favorite activity: brushing her teeth.

Luckily, her haphazard dental habit has not yet caused any ulcers in me cavities. She won’t work hard at cleaning her room, or picking up her stuff, but man-O-man, will she get creative in avoiding this daily habit.

Yesterday I yelled, are you brushing? I don’t hear the toothbrush going!, and she compliantly turned it on.

Unfortunately for her, I walked by the bathroom a minute later and saw, to my utter shock and amusement, a dry toothbrush buzzing away on the counter.

Too bad her mouth was in the other room.

I confess I had a hard time not hyperventilating from laughing punishing her.

Points for creativity, right?

If she gets more crafty, I’ll have to sell her to a mustached foreigner fill every corner of the house with third grader- nanny-cams.

Are you getting crap pulled on you? Tell me I’m not alone!

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Well, years have passed with this here blog…and I’m still waiting.
*fingernails tap tap tapping*

In fact, this week officially marked another one, a birthday for little ol’ me. Okay, perhaps it should be just “old me.”

While having a margarita with a couple of friends, they surprised me with “birthday speech!” “birthday speech!”

Just ask the Hubs about me and impromptu words (hint: when surprised by our rent-a-minister saying “you can now add your own vows” during our marriage in Belize, a stunned and speechless me let the Hubs go first. And what jewel did I say after? “Uh, can I ditto?”).

There’s a reason I take improv classes…

And what wise morsels did I, a more mature Wendy, dish out for my birthday well-wishers this week?

Errrrr, the older you get, the less you know!

and

I realize now how little control you have over pretty much everything in life!

Uplifting stuff, yes? That might explain the silent, disappointed gazes…

Years ago, I thought life was a learning curve, steep at first and then totally flattening out, and then you just are.

But again I was wrong.

I’d say now that life is more like a dig, for discovering things, mostly things closely related inside you, like yourself.

And everyone is doing it, whether you are hammering with a chisel on that rock that is you, or just sitting by a river that flows rapid and rough during storms or calm and peaceful on summer days. Excess rock gets removed to reveal more of your true form in every moment, in each breeze.

So, surprise! Maybe, if you’re lucky and live long enough, you are getting discovered.

By you.

And, birthday friends, now that I’ve had time and no tequila yet today, that is my birthday wisdom for you.

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It starts off with a gorgeous image, a vision of calm, peaceful order and an appreciation of community and the natural beauty in all life.

You imagine you’ll have lovely, relaxing chats with your friends and neighbors.

As the natives declare they’re BORED get restless, you quickly realize you have a big, white target “X” on your back.

You scramble to entertain the enemy your kids with music and fun, perhaps an outdoor concert.

But even the littlest soldiers revolt.
(with the very littlest fighters yelling, “BANG,” instead of firing an actual gun)

Before the actual altercations began, you fashioned yourself the guy with the biggest, loudest gun on the field, but, alas, you need to fix a martini a reality check.

In the end, your fate turns out more like the band.

And your living room, strewn with popsicle sticks dead bodies that no one is picking up…

If you’re lucky, some summer camp instructor angelic vision will come to pray for your soul.

What month is this? September, right? Whaaa?

Do you have war on your hands or a peace treaty?

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