ass pants, here i come

Dude. Just had a weigh-in. I've lost 19.4 pounds total. I got a sticker, a keychain and a round of applause. Weight Watchers is a lot like kindergarten like that. But hey, it works. Who am I to criticize?

10 more to go!

mrs. d

I just came back from a funeral. The mother of one of my very best friends passed away on Friday. There was a huge turnout which doesn't surprise me in the least. The world is a little less bright today. She was a lovely woman, always quick with a smile and a deep, tight hug. The priest mentioned her method of hugging in the eulogy. Her hugs were legendary. She'd extend her arms well in advance of the embrace as she happily glided toward its recipient.

I'll miss Mrs. D's hugs. I'll miss the way she clutched my cheeks in her hands, looked into my eyes and spoke so warmly to me. She had these great smile lines around her eyes. Those lines were earned. Her eyes were forever crinkled because she wore a persistent smile.

Her voice was like velvet, with a little bit of texture courtesy of a heavy smoking habit she couldn't quite care to quit. Back in the days of forced church attendance, my eyes often glazed over and I'd tune out the first and second readings, the responsorial psalm, the Gospel and the homily. Except on the Sundays when Mrs. D read. Her voice was so soothing and hypnotic. With the exception of the occasional screaming child, no one made a sound or fidgeted when Mrs. D was at the lectern. We'd happily listen to Mrs. D read the phone book.

Mrs. D just ended a very long battle with cancer. My friend knew she didn't have much time left with her beloved mother. She and I talked on the phone about a week before her mother died. We spoke of her mother's strength and her quiet, dignified grace throughout the various ups and downs in her life. My friend listed her mother's many qualities. When I mentioned her mother's renowned speaking voice, she said, "That's what I told my mother recently. I said, 'I'm going to miss your voice.'"

It seems pretty obvious that when someone's gone, of course you won't hear their voice again, except in your memories. But still, her statement struck me. I couldn't quite find my words after that. It made me so sad and afraid. But I saw my friend handling her sadness with the qualities her mother exhibited in life. And, somehow, that made me feel better.

Today, I'm a bit of sniveling mess. The memory of Mrs. D smiling and cradling my face in her hands makes me sad, yet grateful for having closely experienced such a remarkable person. She was rare. She was one of those transformational people. I couldn't be moody in her presence because her demeanor was too infectious. I couldn't complain about my lot in life because her quiet perseverance humbled me without her even saying a word. I became a better, more mindful person by osmosis.

She'd kill me for making such a fuss about her. It just wasn't her style. So, I'll stop now before I really bawl.

Thanks for listening. And thank you, Mrs. D.

shameless plug!

Once again, I'll be channeling my inner bitchy mofo over at American Midol. The season premiere is Tuesday, January 11 so be sure to stop by Midol and revel in our grousing and shallow judgment. It will be such a time, y'all! We're even going to be on that there Twitter thing that all the kids seem to enjoy.

Check us out.

new year, old neuroses

Happy belated New Year! I know, I suck. I keep promising to be better about updating this but, well, it just ain't happening. Some good news though: At the end of the month, I'll be rid of the freelance gig that has hobbled me for the past year. I'll miss the money and the fun toys it allowed me to buy -- a new couch, a laptop, a flat-screen TV (purchasing today, as a matter of fact) and a few other do-dads here and there. But my free time is more precious than those things. Although, said free time will be considerably more enjoyable as I watch my stories on a swanky new TV while sprawled out on my comfy couch while checking the Facebook and other frequent Internet destinations on my bitchin' MacBook.

Oh, which totally reminds me of something funny my Mom said over Christmas. As my sisters and cousins discussed the various social networking sites we belong to, my aunt and mother chimed in to show that they were in the know. Sayeth my Ma, "Everyone is on that Spacebook and MyFace these days."

I love my Mom.

In other news, I'm kicking ass and taking names on the Weight Watchers. To date, I've lost 16 pounds. I gained back 1.4 pounds the week after Christmas but I quickly shed it thanks, in part, to Wii Fit. My sister bought it for me for Christmas and I've been religiously body checking and training every day since. And! I've only cursed at it once or twice. Not too shabby.

I've also been really good about cooking more. It doesn't hurt that a kick-ass Trader Joe's opened up a few blocks away from my apartment so I have easy access to affordable, good shit to aid me in my get-healthy task. I stop in a few times a week to get my veggies and the occasional prepared meal. I've been reading labels and measuring out teaspoons and cups of things as opposed to just dumping half a box of pasta into the boiling water. There's something to be said for that whole portion control and planning ahead thing.

I feel great and I look a hell of a lot better. I'm proud of myself. A while back, I took stock of the things I wanted to repair in my life and I've been ticking off the list in a pretty efficient and thorough manner. I got my finances in order and started socking away a healthy amount of money. I'm currently involved in the aforementioned "Operation: Fit into My Ass Pants Once Again," so that's two huge things tackled. Next up in my self-improvement: learn a new skill. In contention: guitar lessons, kickboxing, woodworking, knitting and yoga. I might do all. If not, at least two. We'll see.

The change I'm going through is good stuff. However, some things about me will never change. For example, the fact that I'm a neurotic weirdo. Case in point: I planned to stop at the store on my way home from work yesterday. I pulled together a mental shopping list on the subway. It was a short list -- toilet paper and hand sanitizer. The latter is kept on my desk at work. The former is, well... you know. Anyhoo, upon reviewing the list, it occurred to me that the cashier might think I was going to use those two items immediately and in conjunction. Say, outside in a darkened corner behind the Key Food. I had no intention of copping a squat and then cleaning up with a generous squirt of Purell. But I was concerned that the cashier might think I was. So I deliberately bought another item to preemptively rid her of any notion. That item was a container of Greek yogurt (vanilla).

Make of that what you will.