tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55467763397450963782024-03-18T20:44:05.062-07:00My Life in the Fat SuitFollow along as I attempt to lose weight, gain weight and find clothes that fit in between.ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-51829726005777178032017-05-08T22:03:00.002-07:002017-05-08T22:07:05.617-07:00My Body - The War Zone<div style="color: #3d596d; font-family: "Noto Serif", Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 24px;">
So I realized that I have not posted in this blog for quite some time! Here is my latest entry from my new blog - Mothering, Marriage and Menopause. If you enjoy, come one over and take a look! <a href="https://motheringmarriageandmenopause.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Mothering, Marriage and Menopause</a><br />
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My Body - the War Zone</div>
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It’s happened – I’ve reached the age where I can’t deny the changes in my face and body. They’ve come for me – like a free fall from a cliff but without the bungee cord. I’m not young and cute anymore – but so not ready to be labeled old and wise (notice that old <img alt="My Body, The War Zone" class=" wp-image-1511 alignright" data-mce-src="https://motheringmarriageandmenopause.files.wordpress.com/2017/05/my-body-the-war-zone.png?w=208" data-wpmedia-src="https://motheringmarriageandmenopause.files.wordpress.com/2017/05/my-body-the-war-zone.png" height="208" src="https://motheringmarriageandmenopause.files.wordpress.com/2017/05/my-body-the-war-zone.png?w=208" style="float: right; height: auto; margin: 16px 0px 16px 16px; max-width: 100%;" width="208" />and wise people have no appearance commentary!). My body has taken on a life of its own and while we can talk about aging gracefully, my body seems to want to beat the crap out of me and everyone else on the way out.</div>
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I’ve never been a thin woman – one of those who was born in the wrong time. While everyone was in leg warmers in the 80’s, I was still curvy and more JLo than Jane Fonda. (JLo if she was a shorter, with whiter skin, straight hair and much less talent – other than that…exactly the same.) Now in my 50s, those curves continue to curve, but all in the wrong direction. I seem to remember having knees but now I have lumps of fat that have eaten my patellae. In the day of seeking the thigh gap, my thighs seem to be seeking a second life as a mermaid.</div>
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My belly and I have been at war for the past decade. I gave up Spanx a few years ago when I realized that the more I bound my abdomen, the more it would get back at me by passing gas. Being thinner was not worth the number of times I had to quickly exit areas in hopes that someone else was blamed. My husband caught on. He now grabs me by the hand and says “Honey…is something not agreeing with you?” I remind him that I have insomnia…and unstable emotions. This is not a good era to cross me.</div>
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I feel bad for my husband for missing out on my younger years. We married after my chest had permanently headed south. A friend of mine wears no bra on the weekends since she had breast augmentation ten years ago. No bra is not an option for me. I might trip on those babies and end up with a broken hip. As they lose form, however, they are becoming easier to roll up and tend to conform to whatever bra they are bound by. Underwires are good. Jogging bras are not….unless the wide uni-breast look is in.</div>
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My arms are the one area that has maintained some sense of dignity. Those kids did come in handy for something -mostly for forgoing the need for weights. I’ve seen women my age with full-on flying squirrel going on – mine are more like slightly overweight bats -just a little hang and they do stop moving fairly quickly when I stop waving. God bless them. At least one body part still likes me.</div>
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I got a glimpse of myself in my friend’s rearview mirror the other day. It was not a reflection of my face but only my neck. I wondered how my grandmother had entered the car…since she is no longer living. Then I realized that it was me. In my grandmother’s neck. And I realized why people have face lifts. I quickly brought my face in line with the mirror – not hard since I was in the back seat. The hard part was keeping that position for the remainder of the ride. I called shotgun on the way back.</div>
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Now is the part where I’m supposed to tell you that I still love myself…yada, yada, yada. And none of it matters…and we all grow old, etc. And we do. And I do. So I guess I will! I do still love this crazy body that has decided to fight all sense and reason as it hit menopause. It breaks into hot flashes at a moment’s notice like a fit of rage by a two-year old. It keeps me up nights with aches and pains in areas where I didn’t even know had nerve endings. The only time I find my missing patellae is when I’m walking up stairs and they start screaming, “Why didn’t you take the elevator???”</div>
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But my body is still mine and the only one I’ve got. Those mermaid legs walked me all over Ireland on our last vacation. That belly got a clean bill of health at the last colonoscopy. And the breasts? They may be long…but they have not turned on me. One of my favorite shirts while walking in the the Breast Cancer 3-day - "Of course my breasts are fake - my real ones tried to kill me!"</div>
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So here we go – I could have another forty years with this cranky, non-conforming body. Beats the alternative. I will continue to push and pull it into some recognizable shape and it will most likely continue to fight every undergarment that steals its freedom. In the end, that’s okay. We’re in it together and secretly, I know we are still in sync. Time to move on, however…apparently, my belly is angry about something. My apologies.</div>
ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-1200513756853814622012-09-23T21:10:00.000-07:002012-09-23T21:10:29.810-07:00The Battle Still WagesOk...I'm down to 20 pounds within my goal weight. This would be the same 20 pounds that has plagued me for the past 30 days. I hear it's the hardest to loose. I can attest that this is true. Once you rid yourself of the lazy fat...that is, the fat that just sort of hangs on until you shake it off vigorously, the hard core fat remains. This is the fat that is supposed to save you in a famine. The fat that stores estrogen for an impending menopause. This fat is very..very...determined and may I add...definitely not attractive. <br />
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Now, this fat does at least behave itself while I'm fully clothed. It tucks itself away when constricted by jeans or any other form fitting garment. I think it knows I would resort to surgery if I had to deal with it in the daylight! But at night...or in the morning when I'm dressing, it taunts me relentlessly. I have lost close to 50 pounds and yes...I am happy with my body and no....I'm not becoming a closet anorexic. But hey, why do something half way? It's time to finish the job!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirPAfuaVM_G5U0k7bvAGlYnlUmXTtR1t3Cq66k8B1oRS7I3-h5et9YOr5ATBJVZark0zATFinY8YmFXZSHAjBntu0oor5vznPZ5HcFuOhyqV5Wag8JpP2vEDOKQMGkYaUbnbjHNGlv8BM/s1600/thCAOELKSC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirPAfuaVM_G5U0k7bvAGlYnlUmXTtR1t3Cq66k8B1oRS7I3-h5et9YOr5ATBJVZark0zATFinY8YmFXZSHAjBntu0oor5vznPZ5HcFuOhyqV5Wag8JpP2vEDOKQMGkYaUbnbjHNGlv8BM/s1600/thCAOELKSC.jpg" /></a>One little item that they don't tell you when you are loosing weight is that once skin and muscles have stretched out, they really don't just snap back like a rubber band. They sort of slowly amble back into the right size and hang out for a while to make sure your really going to keep the weight off this time! I get it...my body has moved between a size 7 and size 18 so many times that my skin is just trying to keep up! I sort of feel like a deflated balloon. Everything is smaller but it just...doesn't ...look...quite like it did prior to my getting big. While my arms have maintained some muscle definition (thank you push ups and planks!), my torso has taken on a mind of it's own. If only there was a little knob in the top of my head that I could just pull it all up with! Remember Edgar in MIB? Although, come to think of it, that didn't work out so well for him, did it?<br />
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Matt showed me some exercises to get my rear in shape. My husband took a double take as I had my shoulders balanced on the couch, my knees bent and my hips thrust in the air. This is definitely not an exercise to do when anyone is home! I also started the Insanity videos. I can make it through the first thirty minutes of the first video. I plan on camping there for a while. It seems much safer than plowing ahead and potentially having a heart attack. I would like to enjoy my smaller size for a short time at least! Shaun T is certifiably insane...I agree...but I can now do butt kicks, knee lifts and jumping jacks for a full ten minute warm up...yes...I said warm up! That's just the warm up. The first day, I warmed up after 45 seconds and just stood with my mouth open through the rest of the video.<br />
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I also have committed to two of my fellow nurses to run a half-marathon in February. Pray for me. If you have ever run with me, you know that I sound like a 79 year old with emphysema when I run. Random people run up to me with inhalers. It is better with the weight off, but my lung capacity is still lacking. I may die in February. I love you all...please say nice things at my memorial service!<br />
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So the battle still wages. And I don't ever want to take a chance on going back. I love being thinner. I like clothes shopping again. Even shoes are more fun now, albeit, I've made some very stupid shoe choices lately to avoid hemming my new smaller pants. This is yet another story to tell at another time. Most likely when I finally fall off those heels and break my ankle....and...hey...save my self from the half-marathon! <br />
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Love to you all!<br />
ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-2683832136756349822012-08-02T02:52:00.000-07:002012-08-02T02:56:21.236-07:00I'm Still Me!I had the funniest interaction with a student recently. One of my male students grabbed my arm recently and stated with concern, "Mrs. Saretsky....I'm soooo worried about you! You need to eat! You don't need to worry about those models out there. You just need to be you! Just be you!" I smiled and let him know that I was not a) trying to compete with 18 year old models or b) on a hunger strike until people began telling me I looked like an eighteen year old model. I was still me....inside and out! To reiterate that, I reminded him that he was late for class....something the "old un-modelesk" self would have done also! I had a good laugh and he has moved on to other battles...like graduating and becoming a nurse.<br />
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My sons have commented that they are proud of my weight loss but still haven't adjusted to seeing me as smaller. I reminded Tommy that I was 15 pounds lighter than my current weight when Eric and I married eleven years ago. He replied that he just doesn't remember me that way....I've been bigger in most of his memories. It did remind me that we all make adjustments as we change or our loved ones change. We did, however, both decide that I am still....me! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Kd1EaKFo8nAbV-hqlxyAb5oUtAefXS7Go6TJpyGm-AOR4P8i4SDjDT9KMf0COummmEXq5YlxWxwxuNwQhqTXMfkZLBxObMP58aIVSCZgRYwMHtFKJF8-3b4b4MDlEIwfvwt7sKhSUVA/s1600/MV5BMTY0OTQ3MzE3MV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDQyMzMzMg@@__V1__SY317_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Kd1EaKFo8nAbV-hqlxyAb5oUtAefXS7Go6TJpyGm-AOR4P8i4SDjDT9KMf0COummmEXq5YlxWxwxuNwQhqTXMfkZLBxObMP58aIVSCZgRYwMHtFKJF8-3b4b4MDlEIwfvwt7sKhSUVA/s200/MV5BMTY0OTQ3MzE3MV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDQyMzMzMg@@__V1__SY317_.jpg" width="135" /></a>What I have noticed about "me" recently is that I do feel more confident. As an overweight woman, I spent useless time wondering what other people thought of me. Do they notice my muffin top? Especially since I added silver sequins to it? (If you have to ask, refer to the 12/2010 post!) Are they secretly horrified by my uni-leg? Are they watching everything I put in my mouth? And all this with my size 10 feet? Arghhhhh.....I am the Ginormica from <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0892782/" target="_blank">Monsters vs Aliens</a>! (Except that she actually had a waist and most likely a BMI that didn't put her in the obese category!) It didn't matter how much education, career success or outside affirmation I received, my only thoughts when I met someone new was....what are they thinking about my fat?<br />
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The truth is that most people around me probably didn't really think about it at all. They just saw "me"...as I was...and either liked me or disliked me for who I was. That being said...am I happier with "me" now? You bet. But not for the reasons I thought I would be! Clothes shopping is more fun. I can walk up the stairs without getting winded. I was able to drop my blood pressure medication - one more little gift to my liver! I was able to put on shorts and go kayaking without feeling like everyone was waiting for the fat girl to tip over. I don't perseverate (one of my favorite words BTW!) on what everyone is thinking. In the end, however, I actually liked "me" before. I just have more fun with "me" now!<br />
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So the point? Is there one? I believe so! Love yourself regardless! In that love, however....be good to yourself. I've seen both sides. The thin side <strong>is</strong> more fun and not just because random people are actually telling me to eat for the first time in my life! If I can help in any way....let me know. In the end, I want you to love "you" regardless of your size....but also get the benefits of being the best "you" that you can be! Love to you all!ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-78771407636764132192012-05-28T19:13:00.000-07:002012-05-28T19:13:02.453-07:00Losing Fast with MedifastOk...I'm a believer. I've become a Medifast junkie. After seeing advertising for this program for years, I finally opted to try it. (Well, I opted to try it after watching my best friend lose 15 pounds while on it!.) I have been on the program for 2 1/2 week and am down my own15 pounds. Hallelujah....I may see my feet again at some point!<br />
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The most amazing thing is that I'm truly not hungry. I eat every 2 1/2 hours and don't really think about food other than when it's time to eat. This is a major victory for me. Food has plagued my thoughts for....let me see....how old am I?....48 years. I began my relationship with food from an early age, having been reared by a woman from Kentucky that knew that everything tastes better with bacon...and fat...and salt. My mother was an amazing Southern cook that taught us, among other things, that food was to be enjoyed. And I did....to excess. Food has been my friend, my confidant and at times, my significant other. It feels incredibly healthy to put food in it's place....an acquaintance that I interact with several times a day rather than the lost love that I perseverate about constantly. What will I eat next? When will I eat next? Is that a Potluck I smell? Maybe I just needed a psych eval all along. <br />
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I reached the milestone of navigating Costco without nibbling on the free samples. I participated in a pizza party with....yep...no pizza! I went out with my coworkers to Cirque du Soleil, smelled the popcorn, and did not falter! I nibbled on my Medifast cinnamon sticks and felt satisfied...and strong.<br />
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Other benefits....I'm sleeping... through the night. This may have more to do with my decrease in caffeine than my diet but it is a related perk. I like coffee. I <b>love</b> flavored creamer. Coffee and I have a precarious relationship when I can't sweeten him up. I am down to about 1 cup a day that I drink with powdered creamer and Truvia. Not the same as my Skinny Vanilla Latte's. I stand corrected, however, on everyone that asked my to decrease my caffeine consumption when discussing my insomnia....apparently it <b>does </b>affect me that way. My Starbucks savings is going into a savings account for a Hawaii trip -for when I can put on a bathing suit and actually venture out of the house in it. (I will happily wave goodbye to the unileg!)<br />
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I also broke up with salt. This could explain the 15 pounds in 2 weeks. I salted everything...usually before I even tasted it. I salted meat, fruit, eggs...you name it...it needed more salt. I use it extremely sparingly now. My new best friend is no salt seasoning mix - I now use it on everything. It's an illness I know...but at least I'm looking for healthier alternatives! <br />
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So...I will continue to post how it's going. Someone asked me the other day what I will write about if I lose all the weight. I thought for a moment....I doubt Medifast can cure the crazy thoughts that engulf my head...or make the antics of my three boys any calmer...or make me the perfect wife, mother and nurse...Nahhh...there will still be plenty to write about!<br />
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Love to you all!<br />
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<br />ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-84189643990189863672012-05-20T17:49:00.001-07:002012-05-20T17:51:47.939-07:00Climbing up Coronado<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Each year for one day, foot traffic is allowed on the Coronado Bridge. Today was the day for 2012. Each year the San Diego Navy MWR (Morale, Welfare and Recreation) sponsors a race that takes participants from the San Diego Convention Center to Tidelands Park with some of the best views of the city atop the Coronado Bridge. Eric and I have participated three times. Each time is yet another great experience. It is also for a good cause as it helps fund the MWR, which supports the off duty activities for our Navy personnel. <br />
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This four mile walk (each year I run about a total of about....hmmmm...six minutes) allows for great scenery, camaraderie and a chance to see young families working together. Many young Moms and Dads are running along side children of all ages. Very cool. (Makes me wish I had exercised with my kids rather than just watching from the sidelines! I truly was the athletic supporter rather than the athlete!)<br />
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Eric and I walked most of the way with taking short sprints just to break out of the crowd. I think it always surprises people to see me run at all...I am not a gazelle....much more like a rhino running. It's not pretty, I've been told...in a manner that I'm sure came from a good place (?). We did have to run a few times, however, to avoid the women with the wild arm swing....she came close to making Eric hit a falsetto. We also ran to get in front of a woman who, in spite of having my body, opted to wear a very short walking skirt that allowed us all to witness her thighs battle each other for space. It was not pretty. It also reminded me that my knee length walking shorts were a good idea.<br />
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We were not actually racing to get across the bridge but did try to keep up a good pace. This is difficult when walking with 12,000 people. Some amble...some carry on in depth conversations....and the runners dodge in and out of the rest of us trying to hit their stride. Apparently when you are a seasoned runner, you become quit agile...sometimes trying to call out "on your right" only to find the person on your left moving over. I was surprised that I never saw any verbal altercations or more irritation. Everyone remarkably seemed to get along on the trip.<br />
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Now, while we weren't running a race, I do have to mention that one woman in particular put us to shame. She ran past us right at the top of the bridge. She was about 60 years old (or older)....and....blind. Yes, it's true, we were moving so slow that a legally blind senior passed us. She is my hero. She ran while putting her hand on the divider and holding her white cane. A runner in front of her cleared the path. <br />
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We finished the four miles in one hour and 7 minutes. The fastest woman in my age group (45-49) ran it in 26 minutes. I'm OK with this. Maybe next year I'll try running...in a very short running skirt...with a blindfold. I better start training now. Anyone up for a run?<br />
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Love to you all!ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-44377648294958677552012-05-07T04:30:00.000-07:002012-05-07T04:30:10.004-07:00The Kreativ Blogger Award!It has been two weeks since my return from the EBWW. I came back expecting to jump into my writing with both feet, crank out a best seller and live off the royalties in Hawaii. Just kidding...I actually expected to be doing exactly what I am doing...trying to figure out what I want to do with my writing! I came to some very comforting realizations while at the conference:<br />
<ol>
<li>If I never get famous writing a novel, it's ok.</li>
<li>If I never get famous writing a blog, it's ok.</li>
<li>If I end up doing some writing that makes someone, somewhere laugh....I'm a successful writer.</li>
<li>I may never know how many people enjoy my writing and that's ok too.</li>
</ol>
All of these realizations actually add to my overall contentment. I write the blog because I enjoy it. Nothing gives me greater pleasure that having someone say...I read your stuff and laughed out loud. It's even better if they choked on some milk that spurted from their nose...then I know I really hit the mark! My biggest wish is to have a moment like Erma when she read the words from her university professor stating "you can write". <br />
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In that vein, I received a nod from a fellow writer that I was privileged to meet at the conference. Darlene Sneden of <a href="http://adventuresofamiddleagemom.com/" target="_blank">Adventures of a Middle Age Mom</a> fame, nominated me for a <a href="http://everyrecordtellsastory.com/2012/04/23/every-record-wins-kreativ-blogger-award/" target="_blank">Kreativ Blogger</a> award. Darlene is one of many amazing writers that I was astounded by at the conference...each one at a different level of "success" yet continually accepting of every new face, conversation and question. With the award, I am to give you seven facts about myself and nominate seven other bloggers for the award so...here goes!<br />
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1. A relatively unknown fact about me is that I once danced to "Ease on Down the Road" at the Holiday Bowl in San Diego. I believe my shining moment was when I got off step and ran into the dancer in front of me right in front of a group of my high school friends. This could have been the reason I gave up dance, Drill Team and anything that required me to move to music in front of 66,000 people.<br />
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2. I completed my Masters Degree in Nursing Education in November 2011. I have since thought I'd write a book entitled "How to make insomnia work for you". <br />
<br />3. I was privileged to sing for several weddings and church banquets over the years until peri-menopause turned me into a tenor. Now if I have a cold, I can sing bass.<br />
<br />4. It always shocks the heck out of me when people state "I'm so glad you're here" in a crisis. I teach my students to just...talk....slower....if you feel anxious. Apparently it has worked miracles for me over the years. <br />
<br />5. While I loved Psych nursing on the floor, I love teaching more. I feel oddly at home in the classroom and absolutely get a sense of accomplishment when my students 'get it'. As I get older, it just takes longer sometimes for me to 'get it' first!<br />
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6. I am somewhat of the computer expert in my office which makes my husband and kids laugh hysterically since I usually need them to program my phone for me.<br />
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7. We once had the police called to my sons 12-year birthday party when he and his friends staged a gang fight. It is never good to meet a parent by saying "If your son tells you he was spread out over a police car, it is true...but not as bad as it sounds...."<br />
<br />Now that you know me, let me introduce you to my nominees....<br />
<br />1. Heidi Koch Frazer from <a href="http://heidiinwisconsin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Heidi in Wisconsin</a> is apparently my twin from another mother...and father...and family. She has some hysterical blogs that do make me laugh out loud!<br />
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2. Stacy Hatton is a pediatric nurse that writes about her adventures in parenthood in <a href="http://nursemommylaughs.com/" target="_blank">Nurse Mommy Laughs</a> . She has a great sense of humor and her musings on young childhood bring back memories (or nightmares) for me! <br />
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3. Ginger Truitt is a mother of five (I'm such a wimp with only 3!) that writes for several newspapers and is currently working on a book. She can be found at <a href="http://www.gingertruitt.com/" target="_blank">Ginger Truitt</a> and has a great outlook on life. <br />
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4. I also met Rachel Webb Turner at the conference and she describes her blog as "all kinds of random things"....like Atlanta or being old and pregnant. Her blog is <a href="http://www.rachelshumor.com/" target="_blank">Rachels Humor</a> .<br />
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5. Jody Worsham from <a href="http://themedicaremom.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">The Medicare Mom</a> writes about being having young children while being in the Medicare years. Her recap of the EBWW made us all laugh!<br />
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I'm going to cheat a little bit and throw back the nomination to Darlene Sneden and the woman that nominated her, Lisa Tognola of <a href="http://mainstreetmusingsblog.com/" target="_blank">Main Street Musings</a> . Both great writers and people I would love to learn from!<br />
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So...I have provided you with seven useless facts, tons of reading material and hopefully enough insight into my insecurities as a writer that you will leave a comment telling me that I have made you laugh at some point. It's 4:30am....my work here is done.<br />
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Love to you all!ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-92132084618974122962012-04-25T04:46:00.002-07:002012-05-03T12:04:46.318-07:00Flying in the Fat Suit...againI am back in San Diego after an incredible three days attending the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop. Amazing time. Amazing people. Amazing acceptance of wherever you are as a writer.<br />
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If you know me, you know how I am about airplane seating. If you know anything about the current airline industry, you know my anxiety can only be growing. Planes are PACKED....each of my four flights this week had a body in each seat. Ahhhh...this is the actual issue. It's the bodies...not the seats. Mine in particular. I am currently feeling like the Mamma bear body in the baby bear seat. This chair is toooooooooooo small. I'm still looking for the airline seat that is jussssst right! I've never been offered an extender (thankfully) and I still do have some slack on the belt but when I end up in a row with other bodies my size, we get much more up close and personal than any of us are prepared for.<br />
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This week consisted of four flights. San Diego to Chicago, Chicago to Dayton, Dayton to Fort Worth, Fort Worth to San Diego.<br />
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<b>San Diego to Dayton</b><br />
First let me say that flying economy can make you feel like nothing less than cattle. When they began calling boarding groups...I was number 8. Seven groups were deemed worthy of boarding the plane prior to me. I'm assuming that must be some kind of Price Line punishment. Most of us in group 8 looked at each other like "You're not independently wealthy either, huh?" If nothing else, it did bond us as the lower class. <br />
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On the second flight, life looked good. There were two seats per row and I was seated next to a trim older man who looked somewhat antisocial but at least had a normal girth. Unfortunately, his wife was in the row in front of us. She wanted to sit with him and convinced her seat mate to switch. This move led to me sitting next to a woman with purple hair, at least 100 pounds on me, and hated life. I will say no more other than while this flight was only 2 hours long, I now understand the term "from here to eternity". <br />
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<b>Dayton to San Diego</b><br />
The first flight wins as my favorite. My neighbor was trim, well spoken, interesting and good natured. We talked the whole way. She even took a business card with my blog address. We shared the same name, a respect for our incredible husbands and love of dogs. Sherri, if you are reading, you may have actually changed my attitude related to flying. May I just pay you to sit next to me on every flight? <br />
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The second flight was uneventful other than having the women in the middle seat refuse to step out to let me in. She just looked at me and said "I'm small....just climb over." I replied..."I'm not...you're taking your chances". I think I hit her in the head with my bag. I won't say that it was unintentionally. It may be why she slept the whole way but I did check her breathing a few times. I know she walked off the plane unassisted.<br />
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So home.....I made it. I will say that I miss being with the people from the conference. You can't help but smile when you're surrounded by 400 people that love humor. I will write another blog post about the conference, including my intimate relationship with the waiter that kept bumping my head with his butt. Oh to be thinner when the tables are too close together! But that is another story...<br />
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Love to you all!<br />
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<b><br /></b>ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-69441848724199948952012-04-07T19:48:00.002-07:002012-04-07T19:49:23.482-07:00There's a Whole Bunch of Awkward ComingToday I had a moment of painful reality hit....it was not pretty. This morning I received a lovely package of clothes that I ordered online. I excitedly opened the package and began pulling out tops of various colors and sizes only to think....Oh my Lord....these look huge! What size did I order...double wide? They will never fit! Oh well...I bought them on clearance (which would be my secret indulgence during very bad bouts of insomnia!) and Coldwater Creek is actually very good about returns. Ahhhh.....may as well try them on. This is where my nightmare began.<br />
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They fit.<br />
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Like a glove.<br />
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I have officially left the land of the chubby to being able to wear a small tent....albeit a very fashionable one. I must say, also, that turquoise and purple are still my favorite colors in spite of the fact that an entire Indian tribe should be able to share these shirts with me. Maybe if I loose weight, I could double my wardrobe with the services of a good tailor. <br />
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This reality also reminded me of an additional horror...I am about to embark on a plane ride in 9 days to Dayton, Ohio for the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop. I have been looking forward to this for two years now - the last workshop was amazing. A trip to Dayton requires me to board a plane....with my over sized body and sit with two strangers for four hours. My last flight included me sitting between a large woman and average sized man....who could not figure out why his arm rest would not go down. I was unfortunately spilling over onto his seat....just as my neighbor was spilling into mine.<br />
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Any chance that I will loose 30 pounds in the next 9 days? Cabbage soup diet....Atkins....17 day diet....a combination of all of them? Maybe just not eat for the next 9 days? I remember back in January that I was planning on loosing weight specifically for this reason. What happened over the past three months? Apparently instead of channeling "fit and trim", I ended up with "fat and happy". I am now singing "Breathe" by Anna Nalick over and over in my head...."No one can hit the remind button girl...so cradle your head in your hands....and breathe...just breathe." So now I am breathing....and drinking wine....and I'm not sure which one is helping more, but I am calmer.<br />
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I am now praying that God will seat me next ten year old twins..or a young mother with a two year old flying in her own seat. I'll deal with the kids...I just can't deal with another four hours of ignoring a poor confused man irritated by his malfunctioning arm rest...even if I will be in cute clothes...that resemble a tent...Yep...I'm trying...there is no good way to spin this!<br />
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Say a prayer for me. In the greater scheme, I know that this is my own doing. Lord, have mercy, however, if not on me...on the poor soul next to me. I'm back on the exercise videos...I'll stop eating the convenience foods....just please save me from the whole bunch of awkward that's coming my way!<br />
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Love to you all!ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-52937508039452332962012-02-14T06:16:00.000-08:002012-02-14T08:11:14.673-08:00A summary of exercise and the Fat Suit!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Exercise has always been my archnemesis. Working
out has a way of making me feel better and worse about myself simultaneously. We all know the drill….calories in balanced
with calories out. I have tried a
variety of cardiovascular pursuits and have come to one conclusion….I need to
eat less. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTPKwB_o3yTMBGwW4V9iUAikD3_Z8J5fEIgnJG9bWFXfp9ia81El-eWKwNEBVJ5Gxoa3C0-KNEomDod7KTa27Y__ofwPleaVsIbYxazoD3pCnHETLbNgVoLi2HkGLsQdeNMpQe1l8Ams/s1600/imagesCAY435EY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTPKwB_o3yTMBGwW4V9iUAikD3_Z8J5fEIgnJG9bWFXfp9ia81El-eWKwNEBVJ5Gxoa3C0-KNEomDod7KTa27Y__ofwPleaVsIbYxazoD3pCnHETLbNgVoLi2HkGLsQdeNMpQe1l8Ams/s200/imagesCAY435EY.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">First there was yoga.
Stretch your body in an assortment of poses – most resembling an animal…or
a piece of furniture. This would be where
the problem arose. In a room of tables,
I was the only ottoman. While the wispy
women in the front were doing tree…I was doing overgrown shrub. Ignorance to how I looked was impossible. Mirrors were everywhere. It confirmed in my mind that an apple can
never be a tree.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6nEtMCY3yEvs5tIYxhDWAy2Y2unw4RAn6xtVHt7biAz87Xj9CGicpQKl5BqNee3CCZYO0uRjAr8X8Ty7QmsziJ60sC5I6scXL6gYEEJH75OPXvJOu2RZfJPpHZxkJ-w46gqxRa4uFII/s1600/imagesCAPYAFKL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6nEtMCY3yEvs5tIYxhDWAy2Y2unw4RAn6xtVHt7biAz87Xj9CGicpQKl5BqNee3CCZYO0uRjAr8X8Ty7QmsziJ60sC5I6scXL6gYEEJH75OPXvJOu2RZfJPpHZxkJ-w46gqxRa4uFII/s200/imagesCAPYAFKL.jpg" width="132" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Next came kick-boxing…taught by Hitler’s descendant. I’ve
been surrounded by males my whole life (3 brothers and 3 sons) so it seemed to
fit my somewhat aggressive nature. I jumped,
kicked and got my heart rate to a level that seemed incompatible with
life. After five minutes, I had three choices…a) Throw
up on the floor b) pass out or c) crawl towards the door and find a cylinder of
oxygen. Option three seemed the least
disruptive to the class. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Swimming taught me that fat does float. If my cruise ship goes down…I will survive…unless
everyone discovers my secret and uses me for a life boat. Unfortunately, I was not raised around pools
so my swimming does resemble a drowning victim.
My fear of water did seem to impede the circulatory benefits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Exercise Boot Camp taught me that I do work harder with
someone yelling at me. I was finally
able to run ½ mile without stopping….other than to assure people that I didn’t
need their inhaler. Apparently I sound
quite asthmatic while running. I gave it
up…not for myself….but for those running behind me with a nebulizer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3DEaTKzEEHmhMoEMvCtzFmG9OxXmONrg_QhIZnHgWZhFfTg4fqxorwaIwK4U2xSE-_qWxJl4Ymh3OAyBqX7emP-fpDsdY85S-6buYqLKWnnkV_BW79ubYSOisfwRLqBYD1p5WcZ9xNA/s1600/imagesCAHBS04A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3DEaTKzEEHmhMoEMvCtzFmG9OxXmONrg_QhIZnHgWZhFfTg4fqxorwaIwK4U2xSE-_qWxJl4Ymh3OAyBqX7emP-fpDsdY85S-6buYqLKWnnkV_BW79ubYSOisfwRLqBYD1p5WcZ9xNA/s200/imagesCAHBS04A.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My latest exercise attempt is at home…on my treadmill. No mirrors.
No one to compare myself to. Just me.
This would be the issue. “Me” is not very good at motivating “me” to
work out. I used the treadmill religiously for about…two weeks. I am now trying to convince my husband that
it is a piece of modern art inspired by our health consumed society. He’s not buying it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So what’s next? I’m
determined to find the activity for me. I’m
open to ideas. How about Zumba? With enough room, a middle aged Caucasian woman
with no rhythm can dance…right? I have
to keep searching. In a world of calories in equaling calories
out, I enjoy a glass of wine more than I enjoy the finer things of life….like
dignity. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-67072168032547499052012-01-22T18:26:00.000-08:002012-02-05T15:21:11.442-08:00Way back when I used to be cute...My workplace was recently redecorated...painted, new flooring, new artwork...the works. As with any redecorating project, it began with lots and lots of packing. The entire school was alternately packing and unpacking...moving boxes from this room to that room....all while continuing to take care of our ample student population. I moved my boxes home...it seemed easier to keep control. It also allowed me a chance to go through my decorations and do some redecorating of my own. Out came a variety of "new" family pictures to share with any unsuspecting person entering my office.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIDGsZXPHeMo4np5BAV1xTdrXMKoL1ZUgPwHv-sxRLYXdGt-6X3pJqvc7oDKCxwbDAo5sfAibcbWNdY8XdqOu-az2wnKQ3_jAf9LdMX6-Xy8ivAMZgtGRbWnKyUjah86IKp2dC1UnMdec/s1600/Wedding10001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIDGsZXPHeMo4np5BAV1xTdrXMKoL1ZUgPwHv-sxRLYXdGt-6X3pJqvc7oDKCxwbDAo5sfAibcbWNdY8XdqOu-az2wnKQ3_jAf9LdMX6-Xy8ivAMZgtGRbWnKyUjah86IKp2dC1UnMdec/s200/Wedding10001.jpg" width="175" /></a>As I had never brought wedding pictures into my office, it seemed time to do so. Everyone has met my husband...as a matter of fact, most of the staff remind me that if we ever split up, it would likely be my fault since he is a saint and I can be a bit cranky at times. Noted. So...wedding pictures up. Little did I know what type of comments they would spark. </div>
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"This is you?" "Yep...on my wedding day." "Wow...how long ago was that?" "Eleven years ago." "You looked reallllllllllllllllly different then (emphasis on reallllllllllllllllllyyyyy)!" "Ummmmmm.....thanks?" <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwE5Bxs5jZQH3IG_y3aoPLhf48U9owdWglvaBJ3gnR4P8CNMLOhDCnWFZyLxnlMXwTXTmNDyfGbcQ6vayTEYeQAncwW41dISsKi1hdr8PE6qNQ1A6Jf_v1ya7uKEe3YHAqbfZIHr0v8Gw/s1600/Wedding10010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwE5Bxs5jZQH3IG_y3aoPLhf48U9owdWglvaBJ3gnR4P8CNMLOhDCnWFZyLxnlMXwTXTmNDyfGbcQ6vayTEYeQAncwW41dISsKi1hdr8PE6qNQ1A6Jf_v1ya7uKEe3YHAqbfZIHr0v8Gw/s200/Wedding10010.jpg" width="138" /></a>I would have just let that go had it not happened not once....not twice....but three times! Three times, I've been reminded that I looked reallllllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyy different eleven years ago. You know...back when I was cute. I mentioned this to another friend. She replied...."you're still cute". Yes, I suppose, if I'm shooting for that ten year old boy with a space between his teeth kind of cute. I'm actually shooting for something a bit more gender and age appropriate however. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGJawa-gYzLA9tf10bn3eMCKX0lH89Gl9-ZyOrxbz101g27YB_Wg0F1ea_SswhH0RhIJ4Wx3UXg_wkwW9FlpnllXdtBGvzIx9g7s1_PD6VhvXgUgX6LQgl-Fdf7JF-0mr8giTONCv-E3A/s1600/n518882518_2919324_8244569.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGJawa-gYzLA9tf10bn3eMCKX0lH89Gl9-ZyOrxbz101g27YB_Wg0F1ea_SswhH0RhIJ4Wx3UXg_wkwW9FlpnllXdtBGvzIx9g7s1_PD6VhvXgUgX6LQgl-Fdf7JF-0mr8giTONCv-E3A/s1600/n518882518_2919324_8244569.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGJawa-gYzLA9tf10bn3eMCKX0lH89Gl9-ZyOrxbz101g27YB_Wg0F1ea_SswhH0RhIJ4Wx3UXg_wkwW9FlpnllXdtBGvzIx9g7s1_PD6VhvXgUgX6LQgl-Fdf7JF-0mr8giTONCv-E3A/s320/n518882518_2919324_8244569.jpg" width="320" /></a>Now the difference could be attributed to the fact that I was fifty pounds lighter then....and most of my body parts were in the right place. Now they all meet on the floor and I have to have to reposition them when I get dressed...Spanx is my version of a play dough mold. Or it might be that it was pre-braces, the infamous overcorrection of my jaw and the resulting gap toothed smile. Or it could just be that it was before my boys hit their teenage years and stole any remaining cuteness I had left. I developed most of my facial wrinkles from yelling at Tommy to get up in the morning. The rest were from squinting my eyes closed when Matt was jumping his skateboard off a ramp...the roof...or a long flight of stairs. Chris gave me the least amount of wrinkles but only because he was so quiet that I never knew what he was really doing. This picture is several years old but the last known picture that I have of them together!<br />
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I do miss being cute but all in all, I have developed other attributes. No...not those attributes! It would take some serious surgery to get those babies back to being cute again! Most people find me fairly intelligent, somewhat humerus and don't seem to fake talking on their cell phone when I start a conversation. My kids seem to still like me and my husband hasn't asked for separate bedrooms. I guess there are other things besides being cute. Wow...I feel like I'm giving myself the "You is smart...You is kind...You is important" talk that Aibileen gives Mae Mobely in <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZimx1wHYcs">The Help</a>. Regardless, I guess not being cute is not the same as being asked to place a bag over your head....hmmm....or is that what their really saying?<br />
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Life goes on. Cuteness fades. Body part plunge downwards and wrinkles evolve into caverns. But what really matters is the love that we have for each other. Who am I kidding....anyone know a good plastic surgeon?<br />
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Love to you all!<br />
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<br />ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-68766341307496568682012-01-01T20:07:00.000-08:002012-02-05T15:21:26.963-08:00New year...New Resolutions?Here we are....January 1st...again. I looked for my New Years Resolutions from last year. I have effectively buried them in a pile of paperwork, most likely with "get more organized" topping the list. I also, I'm sure, had the standard "loose weight", "exercise more" and "finish school" somewhere on the page. One out of four is not bad. I did finish school. I officially have my MSN. I also did loose weight....several times if I remember correctly. Fortunately, I haven't been writing goals of "weigh less at the end of the year"....that would be a very different story!<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KIMDhkdmhUo/TwExyEzhvsI/AAAAAAAAAOg/b3Usk0k9s7A/s1600/imagesCAZX67PD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KIMDhkdmhUo/TwExyEzhvsI/AAAAAAAAAOg/b3Usk0k9s7A/s1600/imagesCAZX67PD.jpg" /></a><br />
So now I'm faced with starting 2012. What do I want this year? I decided to look at what I got accomplished today and base my goals of of that. I did exercise today so I feel safe about putting that on my list. I started Turbo Jam and after five minutes, I realized that regardless of how perky Charlene Johnson is, she's not trying to do those moves with an extra 60 pounds on her, so i grabbed my back up video of Slim in Six instead. This fit my pace and I didn't have to find my inhaler to finish! I then got reacquainted with my treadmill. It seemed happy albeit I'm sure wondering why I was heavier since we last spent time together. I put it at the full incline and walked 2.9 miles an hour for a mile - about 20 minutes. I felt accomplished and like I'm starting the year off in a positive way. Only 364 more days to go!<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x3GUFMG6d78/TwExhcUya4I/AAAAAAAAAOU/X5E4HGojN5Q/s1600/imagesCAFURBRQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x3GUFMG6d78/TwExhcUya4I/AAAAAAAAAOU/X5E4HGojN5Q/s1600/imagesCAFURBRQ.jpg" /></a>I also started a chronological reading of my Bible. I don't think I have ever made it through the whole book in one year and reading it with the full historical viewpoint seems interesting. Even more so after spending the last 12 months reading nursing research reports. I found a reading plan online and read through the creation today and how Eve pretty much brought on working for a living and childbirth with pain due to listening to a snake. I then reviewed some of my stupid choices over the past 48 years and found us to be kindred spirits. I also thanked God for Demerol, epidurals and C-sections. The working I've accepted as just a fact of life.<br />
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I stayed away from chocolate today and gave away the last of my peanut butter balls stash. I took my multivitamin (split in half as per recommended by Dr. Oz) and am washing down my second dose with a glass of red wine. I upped my fiber today to a point that I am now searching for anything resembling Beano. I also have my check book balanced and have avoided spending unnecessary money today - although I did go virtual shopping several times only to click out when they asked for money. <br />
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Last night Eric and I went to a party. We played a game that required each of us to write down the top six favorite things of our spouse. Eric and I got only one right on each other. The other couples all got at least three. They handed us business cards for marriage counselors and decided that we needed the prize more than any one else. I guess getting to now my husbands desires should be somewhere on my list!<br />
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So.....after reviewing the day, I have decided on the following resolutions.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9kPCPCPL-t8/TwExej6zyNI/AAAAAAAAAOM/omLbg-CNnQ4/s1600/imagesCA39ON15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9kPCPCPL-t8/TwExej6zyNI/AAAAAAAAAOM/omLbg-CNnQ4/s1600/imagesCA39ON15.jpg" /></a>1. Exercise daily - I am not putting any parameters on this one. Walking up the stairs, working up to Turbo Jam, bending over to tie my shoes (that may actually be the hardest one!)....it all counts. In 2013, I'll work on my latex addiction. <br />
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2. Read my Bible daily and stay on track with the chronological calendar. Take something out of it more than how I would have made equally bad decisions and try to impact my future decision making habits.<br />
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3. Add fiber, multivitamins, red wine and anything else that Dr. Oz recommends in moderation and with some semblance of common sense. Avoid dietary habits that will make me clear a room in 30 seconds. <br />
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4. Enjoy life, my husband, my kids and anything else that comes my way. Eric and I have lined up tickets for four plays (Wicked, Cats, Adams Family and Memphis), reservations for dinner next week at Indigo Grill and a trip whale watching (Thank you Gloria!). I'm hoping during those times that we actually get to know each other enough to not embarrass ourselves at our next party. A coworker gave me a mug that says "Laugh out loud and often, Believe in your dreams and Imagine anything is possible". Sound advice. I think I'll follow it.<br />
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Love to you all. <br />
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<br />ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-89890250349261836802011-12-09T18:57:00.001-08:002012-02-05T15:21:41.424-08:00Living in Latex<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ZlCG_SLf0oDNAEQobMV42HvO4eZnUddxn3xayHfoubM1EaN8KGaDc5puf9EOLDGvvnWKgScjd30llwkK2wQwo_kWJhazoAQ21bnT4nv-QJYh0BwKft9R06zj2Ju-RtV8O7CO7qv2_AM/s1600/imagesCA5JZWSP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ZlCG_SLf0oDNAEQobMV42HvO4eZnUddxn3xayHfoubM1EaN8KGaDc5puf9EOLDGvvnWKgScjd30llwkK2wQwo_kWJhazoAQ21bnT4nv-QJYh0BwKft9R06zj2Ju-RtV8O7CO7qv2_AM/s1600/imagesCA5JZWSP.jpg" /></a>Spanx are supposed to be the dirty little secret that overweight women keep to themselves. Why, oh why, then do I feel the need to announce to my coworkers that I'm a Spanx junkie? I'll tell you why....it's my obsessive fear of my genetics! My father has had a quadruple bypass...my mother several strokes. I did not win the genetic lottery. I inherited my fathers quirky sense of humor and my mothers assurance that I will outlive any famine. Both of my parents enjoyed writing so it's no wonder that I feel the need to document the random thoughts that plague my brain. Family medical history considered however...I'm a potential blockage waiting to clog the cardiovascular highway at any minute. So thus is my Spanx dilemma. I lie awake playing it out in my mind....<br />
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I feel a sharp pain in my torso and calmly whisper to a co-worker "when you have a minute, could you please dial 911?" She, of course, notices that I am diaphoretic, breathing heavily and clutching my hand to my chest. She pauses and wonders if the elevator is broken again and did I just walk up the stairs. The diaphoresis and heavy breathing definitely would fit but chest clutching is new. This process takes several minutes since our elevator is broken frequently and everyone has adjusted to seeing me breath heavily. She thinks after a few moments...best to call for back up. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbLhKsAZHtY8Lz9BfWYBHi8L5SmdL8lxTjCFbOcTTLZ74Q57Pjn3DR7ZFIjqR2x3xMtA-vuNAmetkavTXlimQBLyFAx-Po3aTIjNBtIe351gzfYHizTQDrnIn-di82ppuEsg8GMZVsbkE/s1600/imagesCAIJF8HI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbLhKsAZHtY8Lz9BfWYBHi8L5SmdL8lxTjCFbOcTTLZ74Q57Pjn3DR7ZFIjqR2x3xMtA-vuNAmetkavTXlimQBLyFAx-Po3aTIjNBtIe351gzfYHizTQDrnIn-di82ppuEsg8GMZVsbkE/s1600/imagesCAIJF8HI.jpg" /></a>She calls 911 and explains that while this could be a simple case of broken elevator, it would be best to have an ambulance come. The pain worsens and I lie on the floor. The paramedics come and begin to question me on my pain level. I give a barely discernible answer and they decide to do an EKG. This would be where the true nightmare begins. There....in front of anyone looking...is my second skin of latex. The paramedics look surprised....Do women still wear these things? Will it interfere with the leads? Does it have a zipper? Is it not truly a heart attack but a case of self-induced squeezing? How do you get it off? Is she more at risk for a stroke now since all blood flow to her lower limbs is impeded? Why couldn't a female paramedic have gotten this case?<br />
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Each of these questions will take precious time away from my potential rescue. I can imagine that in turn, I will be thinking....no worries, boys....just let me pass. Send me to heaven where Spanx don't exist. I'm too humiliated to come back now anyway. <br />
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Now you can understand why...after watching this play out in my head, I have given very specific instructions to the coworkers that I feel close to. If, at any time, it appears that I am having chest pain, you are to do the following in a very specific order.<br />
1. Drag me to a private area.<br />
2. Grab some scissors on the way.<br />
3. Cut off anything binding that will throw the paramedics off.<br />
4. Then, and only then....can you initiate the Emergency Medical System and call 911. <br />
They have all agreed. I've considered wearing a small pair of scissors on a chain as an emergency precaution...similar to carrying an Epi-pen for allergies. Upon reviewing the number of times that I've tripped on my own feet, carrying any sharp objects seems a bit unsafe. And...if I impale myself on the scissors, they won't be able to get the Spanx off! <br />
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So....if you see me go down on the ground in the community, and it appears that a heart attack is the most likely cause, please check to see what I'm wearing. Hopefully you'll be carrying your own set of scissors. Love to you all!<br />
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<br />ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-92158591696953679372011-10-11T04:22:00.000-07:002012-02-05T15:23:02.352-08:00Go Tell it on the Mountain<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Xqy6jCi-dpGgQ8YdbtHxdHjrp__ih3lEdzvDsFxGbcBP1Sp7iXcSSJe25KP0tSAMfFyAsevudYjLNcespj0-pflyJln8IOlJrqT2od9VAUG3Ej46KQbycb0-lWy0V7dUzm65llK4_r8/s1600/Me+and+Dave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Xqy6jCi-dpGgQ8YdbtHxdHjrp__ih3lEdzvDsFxGbcBP1Sp7iXcSSJe25KP0tSAMfFyAsevudYjLNcespj0-pflyJln8IOlJrqT2od9VAUG3Ej46KQbycb0-lWy0V7dUzm65llK4_r8/s320/Me+and+Dave.jpg" width="320" /></a>My brother Dave called me last week and asked me to go hiking up Cowles Mountain with him. Since I would do just about anything to spend time with my brother, who I must say was about my best friend in the world when I was growing up, I eagerly slotted time in. Saturday morning at 6:30am? You bet! Let me start with telling you that he was there at 6:15am and wide awake. I was dressed and feeling the effects of living through a corporate audit the week before...technically awake, but my brain was numb. <br />
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We picked up water and headed for the hills. Cowles was busy....no space in the parking lot so we had to park a ways down the street and walk up to the starting point. Let me stress that again...walk up to the starting point. My brother took off on the sidewalk and I jumped in beside him. I was panting on about step three. Let me preface this with saying that Dave just finished 90 days of P90X. I just finished 90 days of what?.....sitting behind a computer working on my Master's Thesis.....sitting behind a computer working on my five year program renewal for work....sitting behind a computer preparing for our company audit....you can see that we had a slight imbalance in our physical abilities....let's break it down even more....he's a guy who's fit and I'm a gal who's fat.<br />
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I was hoping that he would be satisfied with just walking up the hill to the starting point, but no...he wanted to hike up the whole thing. Once again...I cherish talking to Dave and I followed him around like a puppy when I was younger. I'm now realizing that may have been because I couldn't keep up with him! We all need someone who always believes in us not matter what stupid things we do...he was that for me. I owe him much...including a walk up this seemingly ginormous mountain. <br />
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We started up the mountain and I was breathing in my typical asthmatic manner with each step. If you have read my earlier posts, you know that uphill is sort of an archnemesis to me. I can walk for miles on flat land and about three feet on a incline. My lungs seemingly have the capacity of a 90 year old man with emphysema. I would walk until I started to feel lightheaded and then beg for a break. Each time, my brother would say..."no problem...let me know when you need to stop". Hmmmm...is every three feet an issue? <br />
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We started up again and I moved to the side to let another hiker by....a man holding his left arm and walking with a pronounced limp. Yes, it's true...I was passed up by a stroke survivor. I was also passed up by about six people running up the mountain. Good Lord...what is it with these people? One of them looked like she was about 60, in great shape and barely huffing. Me, on the other hand? 12 years her junior and considering how much it would cost when Life Flight had to be called. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7eI-Njq4If9Ox7aRshArzV6M37SAXQBcL1LiEDEDLRqSZbo-zqr2zwtCMfUkvWryjrg_EdQr1sJ10VJdKgg30b-7vXoHBjfog1hLFE-ye2tOIQthp70gyYwmegCHtsoZo7VyTODdfV0/s1600/Mad+Hatter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7eI-Njq4If9Ox7aRshArzV6M37SAXQBcL1LiEDEDLRqSZbo-zqr2zwtCMfUkvWryjrg_EdQr1sJ10VJdKgg30b-7vXoHBjfog1hLFE-ye2tOIQthp70gyYwmegCHtsoZo7VyTODdfV0/s200/Mad+Hatter.jpg" width="170" /></a>We walked up to the point that it looked like it was turning into a 90 degree angle. I thought it was an optical illusion as some point...how do people stop from tumbling back down to earth?...they must have suction shoes! Slight exaggeration but in my mind...the mountain was stretching out before me and laughing at my inability to conquer it. This could also be explained by the fact that I was getting light headed and felt a little like throwing up. Oxygen deprivation is a sad thing...It would not have surprised me to see the Mad Hatter sitting on a rock calling me Alice.<br />
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I came to the realization that this was not going to happen today. I broke the news to my brother and told him that as much as I wanted to, I did not want him to have to drag my unconscious body up the rest of the way. He seemed relieved at that point since my panting was also a bit distracting, I'm sure. In his typical supportive manner, he said "no problem...lets go get breakfast". I turned to face downhill and my panting stopped.....Downhill I can do!<br />
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We made a vow to try again in December when he returned to San Diego. I have about 2 1/2 months to get my body in shape....which is sad that I need to train for this...the entire hike is.....hmmmm...1.5 miles! I walked 60 miles over 3 days last year....now I think that 1.5 miles would require camping gear and a few nights in a tent. I have been up Cowles many times in my life - it is well worth the hike. If you've never been up it, here is another bloggers site that shows pictures and his description of "a leisurely hike". <a href="http://coloradoguy.com/cowles-mountain.htm"> (Click here)</a> I know that I can do it....but I do need to work up to it. Any takers on meeting me on Saturdays to conquer the mountain? Bring ear plugs...my heavy breathing is at best very distracting and at worst....downright frightening!<br />
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I do think I need to build up my lung capacity, however, if I want to live past....hmmmm...50. I'll be 48 next month and half a century is closing in on me. I have been up and down for years in my struggle with my body. The fight is getting harder with each passing year as my fat cells become more resilient and resistant to leaving. So.....hiking would help me in several ways...increase my lung capacity and give my muscle tissue some reason for living. Let me know if you want to come along. My brother will have completed another round of P90X....I'm thinking that he will be one of the runners in December but at least I could meet him up at the top!<br />
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Love to you all!<br />
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<br />ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-8944536802101738972011-09-11T06:39:00.000-07:002012-02-05T15:23:15.399-08:00Stress and the Steering WheelI took a little trip to Los Angeles on Thursday. Actually, there is no true "little trip" to LA. There is only stress filled bouts with endless traffic that bring back memories of stress filled endless bouts of traffic from when I lived in Pasadena. To complicate matters, I woke up late. That is....I woke up late the second time I woke up. The first time was at 4:30am - a reasonable hour if you are planning a three hour drive. I laid back down....for just a sec....and rewoke at 6:15am....on a day when I needed to be near the LAX at 10:00am. With no traffic, Google maps stated that the drive would take 2 hours and 12 minutes if I used the 73 (a toll road) to avoid the 405/5 interchange. I tried to recalculate how long it would take <strong>with </strong>traffic.....hmmmmm....2 days. A slight exaggeration but for those that have driven there, you know it only slight. I looked for any toll road that I could pay $100.00 and have a clear shot....apparently it does not exist. <br />
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I quickly showered, dressed and threw on makeup. I do mean threw...I figured I would nervously be rubbing it off the whole way so accuracy really didn't matter. I drive past Starbucks, making the adult decision to get coffee in LA. I drove for exactly four minutes before....I hit San Diego morning traffic. The only other way to attend this conference was to fly to Sacramento in October. This did not look like a good option so I forged on. Fortunately, the 52 opened up and I was on my way...a little stop and go but still moving forward. At 9:00am, I was about 20 miles away...don't ask how. The math will never add up; I can only say that I did take advantage of any sections with no traffic. That 20 miles took a hour and five minutes. I watched the clock blink the time at me...taking overtaking the pace of my speedometer. To make matters worse, when I finally reached the street to pull off the highway, I missed it! OK....don't panic....go down to the next street and take the same directions but just go one more street over....except...I couldnt' get to what I thought was the street. Notice that I said "what I thought"...that should be a sign of the what happened next....a sign that my anxiety levels had removed all clarity and reason. I ended up in a lane taking me to the LAX....how do I turn around?....Ahhh....found it....back on the street....turn down the same street....go down two more....end up where I started.....back through the airport....I was in some mindless loop from the Twighlight zone. I could see the hotel but there was no way to get there. Until....I went down two blocks - the first place that I could make a U-turn and came back up to find that.....I had literally passed the hotel twice.....not on a main road....literally.....driven right past their driveway. I think I'll do a study on stress levels and brain activity....<br />
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I pulled into the parking lot to see "LOT FULL" and begin to reach hysteria. I was already ten minutes late. I pulled up to Valet and must have looked like I was going to break down. I yelled out "Conference" and he pointed for a place to park my car....an attendant ran over and gave me a stub while I threw her my fob. On a side note...I was driving Eric's car. Eric's car with the push start....the same car that I left running in the parking lot once after turning off the radio rather than the engine. I glanced back....the car was off. <br />
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I ran in, a concierge pointed to the conference and fortunately I had the sense to stop at the restroom. I did not have the sense to grab a cup of coffee. I sat down and was hit with...."We understand that you all do not want to take any breaks so you can get out by 3pm". A chorus of voices around me saying "yes".....a chorus of voices attached to hands already holding coffee cups. It was now 10:15am and I had no eaten or had anything to drink since the night before. Feeling a bit dehydrated and undercaffeinated, I started taking notes. The conference was actually a Director of Nurses Summit from the Board of Vocational Nurses. It was both helpful and informative. It became more so after 11am when they did decide to give us a five minute potty break. I ran for coffee before she finished talking.<br />
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True to her word, we were finished at 3pm. I grabbed my certificate and ran for the car, sustained by a yogurt and bag of nuts for the day. I wanted to get back on the road before traffic hit. I would eat further down the road in Orange County or Dana point. Silly girl....tricks are for kids...and suckers that think that there is no traffic at 3pm in LA. The 405 was already packed. I did make one wrong turn on the way out and took an honorary trip back through the LAX....it was my way of saying goodbye. <br />
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Traffic was lighter, however, so I was able to go about 30 miles an hour at least. I finally found the blessed toll road and headed south thinking that I would stop to eat on the 5 freeway. That was when the news was coming in....everything from Orange County south was in a blackout. No power....the truth hit me....no fast food places...no Startbucks...nothing would be open. I realize that this is a minor fact when faced with larger issues of oxygen canisters and ventilators....but at that moment, I could only recount the days events and wonder if this wasn't some heaven sent punishment for the bowl of tortilla chips I had eaten the day earlier. I swear...I'll never eat them again!<br />
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The trip home took four hours...really not bad since the trip up there took three and a half. I met Eric at home and we grabbed what we could from the fridge to barbecue. I found some candles and flashlights, realizing that I have watched waaaayyyyy to many horror films. I kept thinking that something was going to tap me on the shoulder as I walked through our pitch black house...Loree, if your reading...I'm sorry that I made us see Gothika! The one highlight of the evening was seeing the stars...there were no city lights to compete with them and they were truly beautiful. I went to bed, full and content, and only a little worse for wear. The DON summit takes place once a year in either LA or Sacramento. Next year I'm flying to Sacramento. <br />
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<br />ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-58520377757919564712011-09-04T20:43:00.000-07:002012-02-05T15:23:29.531-08:00Eat, Pray, Study...and EatI am in my final week of my second to the last class of my MSN. In two weeks, I will be in my final class. I'm trying not to hit the celebratory wine early. I still have several projects due including one on Tuesday. Sigh....so close! I mention this only because if you have read my earlier posts, you know that I am clearly defined as a stress eater. I was hoping to outgrow this character flaw at some point, but just like my hobbit feet, it appears to be deeply ingrained in my being.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbW-flqQO-tpqznKNO0d3fc09m9UfW3F8VX7TA94oLZn2aQfcM0YdjaAji50YXXrwoOPSFSPrmb9Ob3YWtzdcxQCBGTSnRIhFTElucSxuw9lqTQWLd_HmywL2vdKEiHNvUoN_vgKqb2C4/s1600/fun+house+mirror.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbW-flqQO-tpqznKNO0d3fc09m9UfW3F8VX7TA94oLZn2aQfcM0YdjaAji50YXXrwoOPSFSPrmb9Ob3YWtzdcxQCBGTSnRIhFTElucSxuw9lqTQWLd_HmywL2vdKEiHNvUoN_vgKqb2C4/s1600/fun+house+mirror.png" /></a>This is complicated by the fact that my son faulted me with the dog chewing up something in his room. I was personally thankful that he was gnawing on something other than a fifth pair of my shoes. I was, however, the one that left his bedroom door open. He has a full length mirror in his room. The one in my office must have come from a circus as it has a slight wave to the middle which makes my waist look anywhere from 5 inches to 45 feet. Not exactly the best thing to use before leaving the house. When I'm trying to avoid my homework, I sit in front of it and watch my face turn from conehead to microface. (You know you would do the same thing if you had one!) So....I borrowed Tommy's mirror and left the door open. I found the mirror in my bedroom the following morning with a note saying "Take it!" I'm sure he meant that in a much more giving manner than it came out!<br />
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I now have a full length non-circus mirror in my bedroom....where I get dressed....everyday...My stress levels have increased even more. I have heard that knowledge is power...NOT when it comes to your body size. Give me ignorance any day. I can't help catching a look now while I'm changing....I try not to but there it is...in full length and no wavy part to blame my waist on!<br />
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Now I think I could handle the mirror if I wasn't dealing with my schoolwork also. The mirror is the proverbial straw...but my back isn't broken...just lumpy. It's time to get back on the 17-day Diet. I bought the supplies today to get started again. No more bread products or processed food. I did it before...I can do it again. I also hit the treadmill again for the past two days. I waited for the endorphins to release...when they didn't, I grabbed an ice cream. Argh....now I have to get on again!<br />
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I'm thinking about putting the mirror back in Tommy's room. I promise to close the door! I only want to look in it fully dressed....and when I'm prepared to look. The stupid thing follows me around the room and catches my eye when I least expect it. I think it's possessed...<br />
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So one more week and then I'm one term away from finishing. I restart my diet tomorrow and get back on track. At some point, the mirror and I will find peace. I'm assuming that will come after some extensive surgery but I have hope. For now, I think I'll just turn it around. This may be the equivalent of putting a misbehaving child in the corner but I don't care. Until it wants to stop freaking me out in my underwear, I need to take some control.<br />
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I think I'll go check out my circus mirror. For some reason, I miss it...<br />
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Love to you all! <br />
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<br />ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-12759812950247741862011-08-15T21:31:00.000-07:002011-08-15T21:31:55.632-07:00Who Are All These People?I have officially lived through another high school reunion....and am starting to wonder if I was actually home schooled and just forgot. To borrow a friends comment -"I didn't '<strong>feel</strong>' unpopular when I was in high school, but.....". Now, I should mention that my graduating class had about 1000 kids in it. That fact should make me feel better....no one could know our entire graduating class. But you would think that I would know....say....10 people? I think that was about it, or so it felt. What complicated the evening is that most of the group of kids that I hung out with didn't show....there was only me and my best friend in high school there to represent our, from what I have memories of, very close knit group. The rest of the people were a little fuzzy to me. <br />
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Now the evening started with a slight bit of wardrobe malfunction. I was wearing my tribal tunic and black pants only to realize that.....wow....this top is a little lower cut than I normally would wear. I think I would have ventured out anyway had my son not said "Wow, Mom....planning on shaking hands with those things?" I ran to the bedroom for a black cami and discovered that the only cami I could find had an embroidered design on the chest. Now I was no longer low cut....but sort of lumpy...again, not the look I was going for. This prompted an emergency phone call to Loree for a black cami.....You may be unaware that Loree is a bit more petite than I am....I don't know if her cami will ever be the same; I think I may have to buy her a new one. I was more comfortable, however, and ventured off to Torrey Pines.<br />
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I had managed to get several things done during a jam packed day....help move a truck load of concrete blocks from the backyard, fit in a Scrabble game with my dad, get my toes and fingernails done.....but I did miss out on getting my car washed. I pulled into Torrey Pines Hilton driving my incredible dirty (remember, I live in a construction zone right now!) 2005 Honda Civic feeling like a teenage kid driving her parents beater car. I was happy to see a white mini van in front of me looking like they were building a retaining wall also....<br />
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I found my friend Cheri and we walked into the reception area. A bit of history....I have been to three high school reunions now. My ten year reunion found me a few weeks after splitting up with my husband, unemployed, just having discovered that I was pregnant (surprise!) with my third child and on welfare. Do I need to explain why I felt the need to attend the 20 year? I did feel a need to state that I was not sucking the California budget dry and was self supporting. The 30 year was more of an optional activity for me but Cheri assured me that we would go together, so I decided to go. I think I had blocked out what I was already realizing at the 20 year....that I didn't really know that many people. I did also realize, however, that I am a people watcher at heart and this was yet another opportunity to sit quietly and take in the action around me. <br />
Overall, the night was fun...and interesting. The first person that came up to us made it extremely clear that she had no memory of me but did somewhat remember Cheri. This stung a bit since I did remember her...or so I thought. After looking in the yearbook, I was confusing her with another girl with the same last name....turns out I didn't know her either! I did, however, meet up with about five people who did remember me and I remembered them...always a good combination.<br />
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</tbody></table>I sat with one woman for a few minutes who thought that I must be a spouse since I was sitting alone, seemingly completely friendless. I assured her that my friends had just left to get drinks....or something....Hey...where did those guys go? During the conversation, we discovered that we had both been on the Drill Team (I know...I know...cheerleading for fat chicks...my son already told me!) at the same time. I couldn't place her and it was obvious that she was having the same memory lapse. I hit up my yearbooks today. In the Drill Team pictures, we..are..right...next...to...each...other....! Please note that Patrick Henry also seemed to intentionally make us as ugly as possible - we marched in wool green dresses, knee high lace up boots and "patriot" curls. Its a wonder that any of us ever did get a date!<br />
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I did run into an old boyfriend....I believe he was about the overall nicest guy that I knew in high school. He is now a successful business owner in San Diego. It was good to see him as it did validate that I had some sort of social life in high school! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My son and I sat with his friends and looked through my old yearbooks. Apparently I did have friends....and a whole lot of people that wrote...."I wish I would have gotten to know you better because you seem really nice". I'm starting to think that I truly was Romie or Michelle - not realizing that everyone was pointing and staring during my three years and I was just oblivious to it! Now, I did have the last name of Pugh (pronounced like a church Pew) which did open up some teenage torture opportunities but it all seemed pretty good natured at the time. Little did I know.....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5CkKzK1drwU73H5aML2jf3FytLTLPKsakV7W9_8QZcITVj9sduTVA01q974U-nIdnHGLOSZqsT9-B8LtrQ_HIScLCSrE7Dg2VlyhnC-5DjzdIqj_c-u9QEQ4hUruHk1QY_eUJ6IqlJ2Q/s1600/scan0005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5CkKzK1drwU73H5aML2jf3FytLTLPKsakV7W9_8QZcITVj9sduTVA01q974U-nIdnHGLOSZqsT9-B8LtrQ_HIScLCSrE7Dg2VlyhnC-5DjzdIqj_c-u9QEQ4hUruHk1QY_eUJ6IqlJ2Q/s320/scan0005.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drama Production - I don't think I look like an outcast!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I left after about three hours and drove home, reflecting on my high school experience. I actually had a blast and was in the middle class group - not with the popular kids but not hanging out in the smoking section getting stoned. I was on Drill Team for 10th grade, Drama Production for 11th grade and worked after school in my senior year. I had a group of about twelve good friends that accompanied me to Farrells Ice Cream Parlor, House of Ice Skating Rink and Dairy Queen at lunch. Some of us still get together about twice a year...or whenever we remember that we are all still friends. The other thing that I remember is that we really didn't have the "Mean Girls" type of popular group. All the kids were pretty nice to everyone....or I may have just blocked that out, I guess.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMMx6dT-qTuPFrg9HvXT-GD0iJLv8C-1nzYw69FtNwe5-1BprzrxgSFyKeE0IQo9bgpZRJbJO8zBRMwxjD4wWu_fYPFXnXk_aqRHMZ_hOmgvk9ducQAK1HB-sGuYg1etDMA_EV9dbwuI/s1600/scan0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMMx6dT-qTuPFrg9HvXT-GD0iJLv8C-1nzYw69FtNwe5-1BprzrxgSFyKeE0IQo9bgpZRJbJO8zBRMwxjD4wWu_fYPFXnXk_aqRHMZ_hOmgvk9ducQAK1HB-sGuYg1etDMA_EV9dbwuI/s320/scan0002.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proof that I did have some friends!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Am I glad to not be a teenager anymore?....you bet! I was very insecure in my saddle seat dittos (you will only know what they are if your over 40) that was covered up with my even then, quirky sense of humor. I think I like life better in my 40's. First, I don't have to wear pants that have a seam running up and over my rear and I was able to give up on buying the "in" fashions about the same time that my knees disappeared. I've decided that being 50 must be even more liberating since you are suddenly allowed to wear purple hats everywhere. The one thing that I do miss from seeing these pictures is a waist - I do remember enjoying having one. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6oYbwjOowXK7pkYNBiaU5WpBcLr93gH3X-c4zpWa8r7sb359D15J-R-j7sYr0dphmr86DQWl6LXdWj_vVzaHaYLZLIwLe7MkWA3dh_bjYctnACJrW2R94sHzoxbI0LzVvA08eb-9dMA/s1600/scan0007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6oYbwjOowXK7pkYNBiaU5WpBcLr93gH3X-c4zpWa8r7sb359D15J-R-j7sYr0dphmr86DQWl6LXdWj_vVzaHaYLZLIwLe7MkWA3dh_bjYctnACJrW2R94sHzoxbI0LzVvA08eb-9dMA/s200/scan0007.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Now my last picture is of me but that is not who I really want you to focus on. Please focus on the guy standing.....behind me...and to the right. Anyone remember OP shorts? Yes....it's true...in the late 70's and early 80's, it was the guys that were wearing short-shorts. Yet another fad that I am happy to be without. <br />
Hope you all have a great night!ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-9802360284939242452011-08-06T16:59:00.000-07:002011-08-06T17:45:57.647-07:00Tale of the Leopard DressI went shopping yesterday....with Joy, my boss. I have my 30 years reunion coming up and needed something that says..."I'm overweight but still attractive, pushing 50 but still young and successful in my career but not stuffy". It's alot to ask for one outfit...the pressure was on. We were headed towards TJ Max when we spied a Lane Bryant. Now, if you have read my <a href="http://mylifeinthefatsuit.blogspot.com/2010_12_01_archive.html">earlier post</a>, you know my relationship with LB. I entered warily, knowing that I had to be on guard for sequins! Thankfully, the Christmas attire was not out in August. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99ai1P2yRZ2f8Emf0fWOZ5kZm2jcmCAucptD_CFdOneKOFWJU9_J1UaXiERY9yMrkwDC1E8WV2ID1AO7TrT7TvAkx_n2PfLpHcs6GBEvMdJpbIPk3I2BOMAAggndLe6KhyphenhyphenV9aCzOLU9Q/s1600/pr_97614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99ai1P2yRZ2f8Emf0fWOZ5kZm2jcmCAucptD_CFdOneKOFWJU9_J1UaXiERY9yMrkwDC1E8WV2ID1AO7TrT7TvAkx_n2PfLpHcs6GBEvMdJpbIPk3I2BOMAAggndLe6KhyphenhyphenV9aCzOLU9Q/s200/pr_97614.jpg" width="153" /></a></div>I was greeted, however, with a Tribal Tunic that showed promise. (I did flirt with a purple sequined tank but made it absolutely clear that we could only be friends in the dressing room....it was absolutely not going home with me!) The top was embellished but not overwhelmed with sparkles. The cut also was perfect....gathered under the bust to slide gracefully past the trouble spots (or so I've learned on What Not to Wear). Joy helped me find some dress pants which took some effort...the first pair was swimming on me....leading me to think that my LB shopping may be coming to a close soon (yeah!). The second pair fit up top but hung mercilessly to my ankles...exposing my hobbit feet. The third pair was just like the three bears story....they fit perfectly! We managed to also find a pair of black sandals with the same embellishments that peeked nicely from my perfect pants. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ewF9QXniFBJCg2tZOZTFfOEyMw9GmQWYfaVBsgUxfEqgVlj4t2-zWfl7eGsehaFsTgssFHsR0Ea9y74gMPr5Of3GE_lzqCd9mMi-NhlzKKmWkuVAhnoltIeEu8tErAxojYerevaWc_Y/s1600/pr_98483.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ewF9QXniFBJCg2tZOZTFfOEyMw9GmQWYfaVBsgUxfEqgVlj4t2-zWfl7eGsehaFsTgssFHsR0Ea9y74gMPr5Of3GE_lzqCd9mMi-NhlzKKmWkuVAhnoltIeEu8tErAxojYerevaWc_Y/s200/pr_98483.jpg" width="153" /></a></div>I thought that I was done...until....a leopard spotted dress caught my eye. First of all...the fact that any dress caught my eye only reinforced in my mind that I must be hormonal....I don't wear dresses. You can see in my <a href="http://mylifeinthefatsuit.blogspot.com/2009/11/dressing-with-dresses.html">2009 posts</a> that I have dress induced anxiety disorder....I also have <a href="http://mylifeinthefatsuit.blogspot.com/2009/11/nylons-are-nauseating.html">nylon</a> induced PTSD. I don't wear dresses. But for some reason...it could be that I just read an article about the crowning of <a href="http://www.delmarscene.com/fashion/misscougar.htm">Ms. Cougar 2011</a> (I can only ask.....why?) but the dress whispered to me....I can cover all of your flaws with my leopard spots...I meet all of your criteria...young...slimming...and not stuffy! I showed it to Joy who told me...that was the dress that I picked out for you! Wow...it was meant to be....I tried it on. Guess what...it was....slimming, young and not stuffy....and it didn't look too bad as it slipped delightfully past my missing knees. Not too long...not too short. I bought it. I must add that the pictures are of LB models...please do not adjust your screen....you're right...no dress will make me look <strong>that</strong> good! <br />
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Today I went to a wedding. I decided to plunge in. Yeah! A place to wear my dress. I touched up my toes...grabbed the liquid tan and started getting ready. I was faced with so many questions!! Do people wear nylons anymore? Even so...can you wear nylons with open toed shoes? Do I need a slip? Do they make those anymore? Can I wear Spanx? (I must say on the last one...I tried but was overwhelmed by the swish swish noise erupting from below my waist!). I felt like a divorced woman going on her first date. After primping and prancing in the mirror and looking at every angle that I could see (I opted to ignore my backside since seeing it up close in Leopard spots would undoubtedly make me loose me nerve), put on my heels and left the house with Loree. <br />
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We arrived at the wedding in Spring Valley and I was met with the realization that strong winds and dresses do not mix. The dress if fairly light. I held my hands stiffly at my sides and gave anyone that tried to hug me a quick clasp while hanging onto my dress for dear life. I felt positively unnerved...what happens if my dress flies up? Will any of these young single guys ever entertain marriage afterward? Will the thought of what becomes of old married women in dresses give them nightmares? I was grateful when we moved indoors...no wind.<br />
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I then was encountered with sitting and standing during a wedding. I would try to run my hand over my rear in an attempt to be sure that I was sitting on the dress. I kept pulling it down over my legs. I was impressed with Loree crossing her legs....I knew that I would be too focused on where the hem line was to do anything other than sit with my ankles crossed. Each time I rose, I envisioned my dress caught in some random skin fold and exposing my entire backside to the people behind me. I have decided that for me...dresses should be accompanied by a side of Ativan. I'm going to have to work up to wearing one for a whole day....this could take years!<br />
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All in all, I had several compliments...including from my son and husband. I guess the stress was worth it. I did feel pretty...and younger in it. I'll continue to work on my relationship with the dress...as with all relationships....they take time to nurture and grow. Hopefully the dress and I will make peace at about the same time that my knees return!<br />
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Love to you all!ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-71890730835982726042011-07-31T15:12:00.000-07:002011-07-31T15:12:54.944-07:00Life as I Know ItOK - another five pounds down and a successful trip to the MD. My cholesterol is down 50 points, my blood pressure was within normal range and apparently I don't look as anxious as I did the last time I saw him. I thought back to my last appointment....January...right after I took my new position. Suddenly it all made sense! I was pretty stressed out then....now I've reached a point of calm. I enjoy the students...I've found a good balance between teaching and administration and I'm wrapping up my MSN. I am no longer buying wine by the box! I'm onto the little self regulating individual serving bottles. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0RPi0cfkUneKhrjQ1iXCvkmkXSzE9otmMsr5fGTVTiD_p5mV1HrNzEAVy2V-AFtRrtVhjEUPEjWRihV3cA0RmZSNclyPNDC7YQ2j84HZhM_2U89xBq2qlgAznvflpQiQ3x9gLg9B7D4/s1600/married.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0RPi0cfkUneKhrjQ1iXCvkmkXSzE9otmMsr5fGTVTiD_p5mV1HrNzEAVy2V-AFtRrtVhjEUPEjWRihV3cA0RmZSNclyPNDC7YQ2j84HZhM_2U89xBq2qlgAznvflpQiQ3x9gLg9B7D4/s200/married.png" width="200" /></a>I do feel calmer and in some ways, more....can I say it?....attractive? I still have all my other Samwise Gamgee traits....large feet, stocky body and red hair (albeit that one is by choice!) but I am feeling like a more feminine version of Sam...maybe something like Sam's wife...hmmm...without the curly hair and young face. At least if I'm going to resemble a hobbit, I'm looking more like a female one!<br />
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I bought a treadmill from my friend Loree. I know that everyone warned me that it would quickly become a clothes hanger but believe it or not...I'm using it! I love it! I put it at an incline of 8 and 3mph and go to town. I am being warned by my family that I need to get it out of the Living Room - Matt wants me to keep it in the garage so he can sweat more while using it. I have a feeling that if I sweat that much, they will find me passed out and covered with the neighborhood cats. I like my exercise the way I like my...well....every other activity...in air conditioning and with some form of music or visuals to take my mind off it!<br />
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I also may add that in the Living Room I have the ability to watch my dog. He stays in great shape by chasing his tail....for hours....like a little Tasmanian Devil spinning about the room. He catches it sometimes...and chews on it...looking surprised that something is causing him pain. That is quickly replaced, however, with that pesky thing moving at his backside and he's off and spinning again! We have decided that....he's just not...that... smart. But he's thin....there is always a trade off somehow, isn't there? I'd try his method but alas...I have no tail...and my if I tried to spin like that, I would break something...most likely a hip. <br />
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The other thing that has changed is how I order from restaurants. Does anyone else feel that the calorie count on the menu's has completely ruined the dining experience? Why even go out anymore? I am typically relegated to soup and salad if I want to stay under 500 calories. There is really no happy medium....everything else is 1500 calories and rising. They even force me to look at the calorie count of the free chips and salsa....Come on! They're supposed to be free! Beat the calories out of them if you have to....! In the end, however, I guess informed decisions are the best. It has changed how I look at eating out...I can no longer rationalize eating an entire days (or two!) worth of calories at one meal....I do still feel at times, however, that ignorance was bliss....in spite of how it affected my pants size!<br />
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So...I still have a lot of weight to loose. I still have my fat suit....but it is in a smaller size. I still have the uni-leg and my knees continue to hide from me. Overall, however...that's OK! If I take a long time to shed my suit, maybe I'll have time to adjust to not wearing it. And my fat suit does have some special things that I love about it. Some people get lost inside of theirs....mine is pretty transparent...you can still see me inside of it. Who I am is pretty much who I am at any size...a hobbit that loves to laugh!<br />
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Love to you all!ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-23718386046431030552011-05-26T22:18:00.000-07:002011-05-27T05:31:01.436-07:00Summer.....Shudder.....I'm feeling the anxiety building. Memorial Day is coming...what to most people is just a delightful three day weekend. But to me...and to other fat suit wearers, it means something much more sinister. Summer is here. And for this weekend....it's not just summer....it's summer in Yuma. Eric and I have decided to visit my brother this weekend....in Yuma.... a house that contains two adults, about six dogs and my archnemesis...the pool. <br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkODPiLpnVYpPuAbhWivbMjf81RkrrVPKeE16bdaobdhdoWqhH8OTdwK7WEts4Qhn6ILxsV9k1E11Xc6EUvkSHLQPVwLy0K2qAI0LkfSVrITtdcqRSUUkd0lKZsDfhPYgJVx4NUqlrdDM/s1600/Pool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkODPiLpnVYpPuAbhWivbMjf81RkrrVPKeE16bdaobdhdoWqhH8OTdwK7WEts4Qhn6ILxsV9k1E11Xc6EUvkSHLQPVwLy0K2qAI0LkfSVrITtdcqRSUUkd0lKZsDfhPYgJVx4NUqlrdDM/s200/Pool.jpg" t8="true" width="200" /></a>San Diego has been very kind to me this year. It was still raining up until a week ago. I could still wear jeans on Saturday's and no one batted an eye. I'm thinking that you can get away with long pants in San Diego up to about the 78 degree mark. When you hit 80, layers shed like snakeskin. Suddenly everyone is in short shorts and Cami tops....and....(shudder).....bathing suits. I do own a bathing suit. I bought it about three years ago...it has never been worn. Mainly because I can't wear a pair of jeans under it...or Spanx. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>This weekend, however, it is slated to be 101 degrees in Yuma. I will look like an imbecile in jeans....or sweats....or anything besides shorts. It will be similar to the 15-mile training walk that I took preparing for the 3-day in which I forgot three very important items....water....a hat...and sunscreen. I almost passed out at the end. Yep.....I got nothing to counter that. I was an idiot.<br />
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So.....my fat suit is complicated with one other problem. My legs have not seen the sun since 2006. I believe that was about the time that I lost my knees. I can feel my patella if I wade through the fatty tissue, but it is definitely not visible to the naked eye. So...if I wear a swim suit, I will have to deal with explaining why my legs are fluorescent white....why my legs seemingly have joined together to make one big leg...and why I have no knees. You can see why I'm having anxiety. Thank God it's family. <br />
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Now, I have been busy since the last time I wrote. I have lost 15 pounds. My pants are looser. My waist in smaller. My friend has told me on numerous occasions that my shirts don't spread tightly on my midsection anymore. Side note....if you see me wearing something that makes me look fatter.....please comment. I have a thick skin...I can take it. I'd rather have you say something than find out by ending up on the "People in Walmart" website. I am eating healthier....fruits, vegetables and lean meats. Eric and I are somewhat followers of the 17-day Diet. Not obsessive followers but more like....hmmmm...casual followers. We are eating healthier but I did partake in a glass of wine tonight. I had to....the pool is coming.<br />
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So.....15 pounds...and still no knees. I estimate that I need to loose about 20 more pounds before they pop out again. I do hear that tan skin makes you look thinner. That may be good....as I reach for the Jergens self tanner. I may end up orange but at least I won't be sheet white. I can't do anything about the uni-leg by Saturday. Maybe I can invest in a nice wrap. Do they make ones that cover you from sternum to ankle? I do have ankles still. I don't mind people seeing those...just nothing any higher!<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">OK....I'm going to just go with it. It's family. They love me in spite of my flaws. Heck, at this point, I may just remind them of my mother. I remember thinking that she was big when I was a teenager....you know....when i was a size 9 in Saddle Back Ditto's. Back when I had two thighs <strong>and </strong>knees. Now? I look in mirror and realize that I don't just resemble her....I became her! Only her without all the talent! Who cared if she was big? She could play the guitar, piano, organ and believe it or not....the accordion. She sewed, cooked and sang. Amazing talent all wrapped up in her own fat suit. As we grew to appreciate what an amazing woman she was, no one saw the fat suit....they only saw incredible talent. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSArzQOWMRz-m-YdWEaKhG5SwuhOW2mehsYMJI2Fo5CdYhutdNiYBpGnQfa4G1MTVBc90lLgtZtvBdCuphrvRUIeb7pMVCqEyWzP6-MMTGvklGnkVWIT5cZXwe6WEZz6Tq8mQY2bGpSgw/s1600/imagesCAV3NW5L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSArzQOWMRz-m-YdWEaKhG5SwuhOW2mehsYMJI2Fo5CdYhutdNiYBpGnQfa4G1MTVBc90lLgtZtvBdCuphrvRUIeb7pMVCqEyWzP6-MMTGvklGnkVWIT5cZXwe6WEZz6Tq8mQY2bGpSgw/s200/imagesCAV3NW5L.jpg" t8="true" width="155" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Maybe I could learn to juggle by Saturday. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Say a prayer for me.....I may end up with PTSD....and my family could end up blind from the sun reflecting off my legs. Maybe i can go vintage on the bathing suit....what do you think?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Love to you all!</div>ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-73637538140481632212011-03-09T18:04:00.000-08:002011-03-09T18:04:43.864-08:00Big and Bulky<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8voq4ASEGPUfppHZQYq35G2Xy00d__Jn7xHA7-2wHpQNEFj-D3BxsEyX7VnjdBV9Be09VZCnkehgZZyzVrcOeTdaNqb8i0MGyObDzr7sh3O5Eu-7AumEOXSHsD-aMTwtrPCJArWoYvk/s1600/3303458-Chicago_In_The_Winter_Brrrrrr-Chicago.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8voq4ASEGPUfppHZQYq35G2Xy00d__Jn7xHA7-2wHpQNEFj-D3BxsEyX7VnjdBV9Be09VZCnkehgZZyzVrcOeTdaNqb8i0MGyObDzr7sh3O5Eu-7AumEOXSHsD-aMTwtrPCJArWoYvk/s200/3303458-Chicago_In_The_Winter_Brrrrrr-Chicago.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
I'm moving to Chicago. I'm here for a work conference and I've decided....it's a fabulous city...with amazingly tall buildings, huge stores and lots of hustle and bustle. None of these are reasons that I want to move here. I want to move here because I get to wear a long coat and a scarf....and I look...just like everyone else. I'm not <strong>the</strong> fat chick when I'm out walking here...<strong>we're all fat chicks!</strong> It's a world of solid blocks of trench coats, bulky scarfs and hats and there's not a belly button ring in sight. I love it here!!!!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRoU6gCL5POdLR7smNigRprbUO2-yOXLo3WA-Nj0-dVJgokzfQ456uZ9LoU_xas-Ia2hQZqgKmAIf8xr8OWTAaD7XHg73xoVKO9M6qvcPiIoDMTtFS7cqRQm9iQVTqdiCZgYEF3ZAJcTM/s1600/Bronchitis_JPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="124" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRoU6gCL5POdLR7smNigRprbUO2-yOXLo3WA-Nj0-dVJgokzfQ456uZ9LoU_xas-Ia2hQZqgKmAIf8xr8OWTAaD7XHg73xoVKO9M6qvcPiIoDMTtFS7cqRQm9iQVTqdiCZgYEF3ZAJcTM/s200/Bronchitis_JPG.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I think at some point, I'm going to save enough money to just follow winter around the planet. When summer comes to San Diego, I'll just head to Chicago...and then maybe Alaska....anywhere that I can wear a coat! I'll work remotely and follow the rain...and snow...and become the human form of a walrus. Don't laugh...in a famine, I bet the walrus's will survive!<br />
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Or...I could just follow a new friends example...she did this crazy diet and lost 110 pounds. It's called the.."I just ate less" diet. Weird, huh? She has a great plan...she just thinks through her decisions when she eats. Its just so out there that it just might work...I'm going to eat a bit more of my Garretts popcorn and then will make the decision to put it away, in hopes that this will be the first of a long line of decisions. Decisions that will enable me to give up my trench coat.<br />
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Since I don't see independent wealth in my future, this may be the better option. I am faced with decisions regarding food about....every 30 minutes...on a good day. About every 10 seconds on a bad one. I've already confessed that I am a complete stress eater...with a bit of Prader Willi's on the side. On a bad day, I can down my lunch, your lunch and the leftover food from the guy at the next table. I'll be full, mind you, but will still keep eating. So the first decision may be to just stop...at my plate. Or even to just stop...at one serving. Or to just walk away if I'm not hungry. Now...the popcorn is staring at me...but I'm walking away.<br />
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Are my hips smaller yet?<br />
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Have a good night....I'll be under the covers hiding from my popcorn! Love to you all!ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-83060648075695321682011-02-05T07:54:00.000-08:002011-02-05T21:51:34.331-08:00It's Not the Lighting!I was chosen this week to be filmed at work. We were graced with a film crew filming various spots to use for online classes that are being developed. I was chosen to speak about health care accreditation. While I hate being in front of the camera, I do have a reputation for being a team player and if it wasn't me, some other sap would need to do it. I was given some ideas for speaking points, a very tiny microphone and a seat in the hot spot. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The first item was to find a good angle. The Filmer had my chair pointing off to the left as they looked through the camera. "hmmmmm - move your chair to face front"....I obliged. They looked through the lens, looked at each other and quickly said "Well...that won't work....move back". They started fidgeting with the lighting....looking through the lens....looking at each other and then fidgeting some more. If you have ever seen the movie <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0104694/">A League of Their Own</a>, you will understand my next comment. The phrase..."that Marla Hooch....what a hitter!" came to mind. I was reminded of my single days when a friend tried to encourage me with -"Sheri, I see all these guys want to date the beautiful girls and I keep telling them - What about Sheri Gomez? (my previous last name) She has such a great heart!" Dude....stop helping! Another friend and I walked around for years saying.....That Sheri Gomez....what...a...heart!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7i7nSKsCj-k0_5U287AOR8IE9GdictGLnu_DYg3Fyi0nY8fWcIKb_M8t4Y48aUQ1H9-jZEt6ESB9A7Q9MJAjMC-6V1Y0HjO6heDzVwM8r0hs3dB19CPzELX1QF5BUeI6xE6BH38ytTUQ/s1600/marlahooch_02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7i7nSKsCj-k0_5U287AOR8IE9GdictGLnu_DYg3Fyi0nY8fWcIKb_M8t4Y48aUQ1H9-jZEt6ESB9A7Q9MJAjMC-6V1Y0HjO6heDzVwM8r0hs3dB19CPzELX1QF5BUeI6xE6BH38ytTUQ/s320/marlahooch_02.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I finally told the crew - "Sorry guys....it's not the lighting....THIS IS JUST HOW I LOOK!" I thought that we would be looking at voice over at about that time but no.....they plunged on ahead, I'm sure determined to do some soft focus or play with photo shop. <br />
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I learned very quickly that I can speak in front of thousands of live people but become a babbling idiot in front of the camera. When asked what a student could be asked during a health facility accreditation visit, I responded with what seemed to be an intelligent response - "they should know emergency procedures - such as the acronym R.A.C.E.....which stands for Rescue.....hmmm......and hmmmmmm.......and three other things!" <br />
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Now, I could recite R.A.C.E. backwards and forwards once I was away from the camera - Rescue, Alarm, Contain and Extinguish....I've taught it about a billion times. As the one eyed monster stared at me, however, I embodied Marla Hooch and could not put two words together in any intelligent format. O.K. - that may be a slight exaggeration. Overall, I did fine and did come off somewhat intelligent (other than for that whole RACE thing!) - which I'm very thankful for since as I've always believed, if you're in harsh lighting, you better impress them with something!<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWIPltOkVytxxdvKwtnrc4K3XXCyCatMBMRxISMM9Omj6_THqcHxwPZLMinGwKITzLzGXpvf59Zqo0mboN8oiKF_84US0E7fDYDrBj2uYGd0eP7pf5EUC1e6uqXoeokI-JKP3_eEHeUY/s1600/mae1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWIPltOkVytxxdvKwtnrc4K3XXCyCatMBMRxISMM9Omj6_THqcHxwPZLMinGwKITzLzGXpvf59Zqo0mboN8oiKF_84US0E7fDYDrBj2uYGd0eP7pf5EUC1e6uqXoeokI-JKP3_eEHeUY/s200/mae1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I've decided to be like <a href="http://www.starpulse.com/news/index.php/2009/06/26/johnny_depp_doesn_t_watch_his_movies_let">Johnny Depp</a> and not see the final cut. I'll wait for the feedback from my students if they view the video. If I see them snickering and pointing in the hallways, I'll know where its coming from. And who cares, anyway... Marla was one of the best players on the team....we can't all be Mae! </div><br />
Love to you all!ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-57806096785882307892010-12-14T21:28:00.000-08:002012-08-02T02:06:16.911-07:00Disco anyone?I blame Lane Bryant. The store caters to big girls..one of which would be me. I have always loved the store in the past. It is the only place that I can be.....wait for it....a size 1! I know what you're thinking....she does know that it's not really a size one....doesn't she? Yes I do, but humor me. It's most likely the only time I will ever hit a single digit in my lifetime. I was a size 7 for a brief period after Christopher was born. Then I got pregnant with Tommy....and Matt...and my hips have never been the same.<br />
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Back to Lane Bryant. They are an illusion. You walk in to their store and are surrounded by big girl clothes that are stylish and beautiful. This may be after you have just hit three department stores and realized that their big girl section holds a grey sweater and a pair of sweat pants. They sort of combine it with the big boys section and end up with an overall androgynous big peoples section...somewhere next to the flannel gowns and minimizers...or possibly plumbing supplies. The point is that most departments stores have a sorry little big girls section because they believe that you should be sorry for being big. I'm wandering, aren't I? OK, back to Lane Bryant. You walk in and are surrounded by clothes that don't make you think that you should hide in a tent or dress like you are an 80 year old grandmother...of 30 cats. <br />
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You revel in the thought that you can wear something somewhat attractive and fun. This is where you head down a dangerous path. It leads you to the outfit that will become your nightmare when you view your company Christmas party pictures.... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADmfswiA5RZ-iI1iudyUDmsFfox6KIKI_MCtMLTs-oyvYw1RQGan1K5Qh7uVS5fbZRMUHZjXxKApvDfmq6-Hf7i_yD12PEkv3Y4Nt5bQ2LxGXVnASQwyUUby9dLF5iOHnIp0fY9E011g/s1600/IMG_5843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADmfswiA5RZ-iI1iudyUDmsFfox6KIKI_MCtMLTs-oyvYw1RQGan1K5Qh7uVS5fbZRMUHZjXxKApvDfmq6-Hf7i_yD12PEkv3Y4Nt5bQ2LxGXVnASQwyUUby9dLF5iOHnIp0fY9E011g/s1600/IMG_5843.JPG" /></a></div>
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Now it could be the fact that I have my mouth wide open that makes this picture even worse. I can't tell if I'm saying...."STOP!" or if I'm getting ready to place a piece of cheese in my mouth (notice the left hand). Eric is either choking or anticipating his piece of cheese also...it <strong>was </strong>really good cheese. Either way, I'm struck by the fact the I resemble a mobile disco ball.....or maybe a mackerel. Those appear to either be shiny sequins or...maybe...scales.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4zGbNZ8kFAEiaza_IcqHsEAqt7glGWSPx6n0b4LgTPxTpJQ2X-bbjffSD2Iz5h7BV9dPW4p87KM3d0CEreGu0ecVzUg7pcLTM2JS25D2SbwaL50pUiReszxF7DAkjQFa7Bmtp4Y_Pv6c/s1600/CIMG4203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4zGbNZ8kFAEiaza_IcqHsEAqt7glGWSPx6n0b4LgTPxTpJQ2X-bbjffSD2Iz5h7BV9dPW4p87KM3d0CEreGu0ecVzUg7pcLTM2JS25D2SbwaL50pUiReszxF7DAkjQFa7Bmtp4Y_Pv6c/s320/CIMG4203.JPG" width="320" /></a>Now this would be me dancing the Electric Slide...or possibly accepting my fate as a disco ball and shining my glorious light on everyone else dancing! Notice the shiny fabric...covering my oversized midsection....something like a Christmas ornament! I am now swearing off of silver sequins. I have learned an important lesson. Just because it is for sale does not mean that you should buy it.....just because they make it doesn't mean it will look good on you....and just because you want to look cute does not mean that everything will look cute on you. To confirm this point, I will let you know that Lane Bryant also sells "skinny" jeans for big girls. Skinny jeans on a big girl makes one look like an ice cream cone....it's not attractive. </div>
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So....my lesson is learned. I don't trust Lane Bryant anymore. I'll still shop there....the options are pretty slim....but I will take off my rose colored glasses before purchasing. You know...the ones that make me think I really am a size 1! </div>
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Love to you all!</div>ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-57852308132793618322010-11-25T06:45:00.000-08:002010-11-25T07:48:16.528-08:00Day Three - I Can't Believe I Walked the Whole Thing!Day Three began at 5am from our warm hotel beds. We started with inspection of our feet and prep for another day of walking. One of my staff members had supplied me with what turned into the perfect blister guards....nipple shields. Cut up and placed on the blister, they provided a waxy barrier when wrapped with Tegaderm. I wrapped my left foot and Loree's more damaged foot and then we both worked on our opposite feet. I had developed a blister running across the ball of my right foot, under my toes. I used a blister bandage, and then a regular bandage and we both finished up our feet with.....pink duct tape. We have developed more uses for duct tape than I could ever imagine....Socks, shoes and we were ready to go!<br />
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Eric picked us up at 6am and we were off to the camp. I headed over to help Cyndi pack up while everyone else headed to the breakfast tent. Cyndi and I joined and we were soon on the road walking out of the camp. Sunday turned into the day that we spent the most time together as a team. We stuck together for the most part and all kept a watchful eye on each other. We nursed bad knees, blisters and some just plain awkward gaits at times...but we kept on walking. We were treated to a group of Stalkers making a human bridge for us to walk under. We waited for one of our party to run to the restroom off the beaten path and were able to witness a group of the PD, walkers and stalkers all dancing together....To the left....to the left....to the right....to right....Very cool!<br />
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Sunday was a time to look up and take notice of the single file line going over the bridge of the Spillway - pink abounded. It was still raining but after our second day, this seemed like a breeze. When we reached Old Town, the rain stopped and one restaurant was passing out Quesadillas. I don't think I've ever had one taste so good! One more pit stop at the bottom of Juan Street and we were soon heading uphill again. Poor Cyndi had to witness my bobbing again at the bottom of the hill.....Can we leave now....how about now...are you ready now? There was a hill to conquer! She, of course, was actually being a good nurse and trying to talk a fellow walker into hitting the medical tent. I didn't actually see the injury...just the bloody gauze next to her foot. The walker was adamant that she was good so off we went.....<br />
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Here we go again....walk and wheeze....up the hill....for the delightful surprise of chips and salsa at the top. Have I mentioned that there is evidently no way to loose weight on this walk? I think I gained four pounds! We headed from Old Town towards Balboa Park. Loree jumped on a Sweep Van a few miles from lunch to have her knee wrapped - little did she know that she was going to tour the entire walk before they dropped her off! She did make it ahead of us, fortunately, and was walking better when we arrived. <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjado2SobRn3Eby9I_3y57EzqE_5o435acPdehf908q5K4bN3nHLSRQKZU2MyCU4VxFniRocic__OUAUumORYtCRvCOnNs1_CzWp8uTLiGi1Y1brUpOgR5S0A4khezUOk0fQlUurR6t0uc/s1600/Recieving+line.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjado2SobRn3Eby9I_3y57EzqE_5o435acPdehf908q5K4bN3nHLSRQKZU2MyCU4VxFniRocic__OUAUumORYtCRvCOnNs1_CzWp8uTLiGi1Y1brUpOgR5S0A4khezUOk0fQlUurR6t0uc/s200/Recieving+line.jpg" width="149" /></a>And then....the rain came again. We headed out once more towards Downtown knowing that there was only three miles left. We had a little setback when a walker tried to go around several of us and jump back onto the path - she slipped and came down on her face right in front of us. I did confirm that none of us tripped her - I promise this was not due to my impatience! (Although I really couldn't feel my feet at that point so....). We helped her up to see that she had a split lip - not a ton of blood but we all knew that she had hit hard. We tried to talk her into sitting down but to no avail. She clearly stated that she just wanted ice and needed to keep walking....at this point, who's going to stop?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilEjSsvMEVdIgtPN4qt2Hq_5PksgKXsNteshj8DxCGbwv8j5bqACdmRTHIaOsh5YTQzv7Kjxm6TBQTjkCUQHDqv98wM0wgPqnIlDf1loGDx5Z63hSTPPvgjdjsOxn6nhGHhE-BNzbLD80/s1600/IMG00237-20101121-1554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilEjSsvMEVdIgtPN4qt2Hq_5PksgKXsNteshj8DxCGbwv8j5bqACdmRTHIaOsh5YTQzv7Kjxm6TBQTjkCUQHDqv98wM0wgPqnIlDf1loGDx5Z63hSTPPvgjdjsOxn6nhGHhE-BNzbLD80/s200/IMG00237-20101121-1554.jpg" width="150" /></a></div> Eric was already on the path at that point and I know Loree and Stacy's families were close by. We seemed to walk quicker knowing that the end was coming. The only downside of walking Downtown is the stopping at almost every street corner to allow for traffic. Once again, however, Komen was well prepared with crossing guards and PD ensuring that everyone was safe. Cyndi became lost in thought at one point and walked right into the arms of a Police Officer as he kept her from stepping into the street. Looked like a good hug! As closing ceremonies were not starting until 4pm, we hit up the first Starbucks that we saw (along with about 50 other walkers!) and again....it tasted marvelous! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51eQR7MImftxn6h4NHeJLVEj5emLPtnjWOucJmw5HWDCzCnLFKsuEpTn-LmfjbpbRmH6tDC-gWLR2yHYX56Eyt60JYC7LNZme6JRvC3OddQJo7jtmCHAotEzp1muKn1L8hyphenhyphen2lw1rw9oE/s1600/Shoe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51eQR7MImftxn6h4NHeJLVEj5emLPtnjWOucJmw5HWDCzCnLFKsuEpTn-LmfjbpbRmH6tDC-gWLR2yHYX56Eyt60JYC7LNZme6JRvC3OddQJo7jtmCHAotEzp1muKn1L8hyphenhyphen2lw1rw9oE/s200/Shoe.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>We were able to find Eric, and Loree's kids on the way in. Loree was in tears as her kids gave her flowers and told them how proud they were of her. We were all pretty proud of ourselves! We walked into the holding area doing high fives with a line of hundreds of other walkers, grabbed our shirts and waited for the ceremony to begin. As we walked in together, amongst cheers and hugs, my favorite moment was when the survivors walked in. Gloria, our team captain and the one who started this all for us, was wearing her pink survivor shirt among a group of about a hundred others. As tradition would dictate, we all removed one shoe and held it in the air to welcome them in....<br />
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The walk was finished. Everyone found their loved ones and we headed out to our car. Goria and I warily looked at the three flights of stairs before us that would lead us to Eric's car. I think she almost ran up them, again, cheered on by a few community members beside her! We headed home, sore, blistered and on a high that can only come from doing something that you weren't sure you could do....only to find that you are much stronger than you thought. Would I do it again....you bet! <br />
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Love to you all and thank you for your support on this incredible journey!ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-63492217648123102732010-11-24T16:14:00.000-08:002010-11-25T07:52:13.434-08:00Day Two - Where's the Ark?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Day two began with Loree confirming that I was delusional. I know that many of you are asking yourselves why she needed a confirmation….you have known that for years! I did not sleep well in the tent…or so I thought. When Loree woke up, I tiredly informed her that I did not sleep at all…It was pouring allllllll night long! It was horrible…the rain was coming down and I’m surprised that we didn’t blow away! It may have been the worst storm of all time….except that….as we exited the tent…the ground was dry! Our little door matt was equally dry leading her to comment…”maybe you slept better than you think you did!”. Hmmmm…..maybe! <br />
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Now one of the things that I forgot to tell my team is that I have a little impatience problem. As everyone was gathering their supplies for the day, my head started to bob. Then my whole body….can we go now? How about now? Can we go now? I decided at that point that this was a character building adventure for me and that God was going to teach me patience if it killed me. Better to just go along with it! I';ve tried avoiding lessons like this before....the end result is never pleasant!<br />
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We received bad news for Loree – the medical tent advised her (not actually the tent advised her but the medical professionals inside the tent…) to keep her foot dry. She had some very serious blisters that were tunneling towards her bone. She decided to start out with a plan to take the Sweep van if needed. We bundled up and headed out of camp….and the rain began. ..with a vengeance. Loree made the wise decision to grab the Sweep – there was going to be no way to keep anything dry from the looks of things. Before she left us however, she made a phone call to her son. Her son that works for a hotel….her son that could save us from a rain filled night in a tent…and not just the rain from my delusions! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVo4w3o6wE9SCX1Om8UDyqeiM0f-6pf6Ec9PRiHZ5Ah-gi27wMwZlLVxPx84_Jpr8ol8HHcDVXQPzEvqC9pCvfeueB0-NwWuYtFrQT9uUa91JjtFssBN_kJaeDwXlPVZn-K78oG9S5deA/s1600/Rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVo4w3o6wE9SCX1Om8UDyqeiM0f-6pf6Ec9PRiHZ5Ah-gi27wMwZlLVxPx84_Jpr8ol8HHcDVXQPzEvqC9pCvfeueB0-NwWuYtFrQT9uUa91JjtFssBN_kJaeDwXlPVZn-K78oG9S5deA/s320/Rain.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>We armed ourselves with our little plastic rain cover and headed out. I’m not even sure if I can tell you where all we went. I can only tell you that I felt like I was in a hurricane. But there again….at every turn….were the Walker Stalkers. Like dear old friends, they toughed out the rain with us. <br />
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Now, this day was particularly bad for me aside from the rain….I had made the mistake of putting on cotton socks over my wicking socks so my feet felt like they were submerged in two little lakes and I was wearing a pair of Capri’s that became low-riders every time I stretched. Argh! Why….would I do that to myself, you ask? I guess things just weren’t quite bad enough with just the rain! So at every opportunity to stretch, I was the one trying to keep one hand on my shorts. I didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s day by having them yell….My eyes! My eyes! as I flashed them! <br />
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Lunch was 13.4 miles in….Komen arranged for us to eat in buses and have a dry place to check our feet and change our socks. My left foot had a spot running between my toes and a blister on my small toe. We kept reminding ourselves that this was still nothing like having chemo and charged back into the rain and wind. At least there was only five miles to go until we got back to the camp. I phoned my husband, who agreed to pick us up and take us to the hotel. I don’t think I have ever loved him more!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJNHGjR3_tAXf7LA4DCQ-2R-hCP5dW2-m_deKhKwjCL6ZcuYUizWqmz3vexrDzwOpin3cwCtbfR-Uel6pC3QtTyM3xIXhqHTu8-gIVDEV-xEdHo5R3ESPZsJL-ICMB6TUaOonb0T_kXg/s1600/IMG00231-20101120-1645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJNHGjR3_tAXf7LA4DCQ-2R-hCP5dW2-m_deKhKwjCL6ZcuYUizWqmz3vexrDzwOpin3cwCtbfR-Uel6pC3QtTyM3xIXhqHTu8-gIVDEV-xEdHo5R3ESPZsJL-ICMB6TUaOonb0T_kXg/s200/IMG00231-20101120-1645.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>I was doing great up until the last two miles…then Cyndi saw my dark side. She cheerfully kept trying to involve me in conversation as I just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. At one point, she looked over at a young surfer holding a huge kite on the sand. She looked at me…”what do you think he’s doing?” I answered honestly. “I don’t care.” I still need to give her a hug and an apology for that one!<br />
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We arrived at camp and gathered our bags. Loree informed us that our tents had blown about ten feet and that many campers were heading out to hotels. We started hefting bags up to Eric’s car and were immediately surrounded by Camp workers who started grabbing bags to help. I love them. They were another highlight to the week – always willing to serve and out in the rain with us. When we got everything settled, off to the hotel we went. Ahhhhhhhh…..<br />
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We drove up to realize that it’s not the walking that causes muscle pain….it’s the stopping! We all emerged from the car like 90 year old women. I’m sure people were wondering where we had left our walkers! Eric asked as he handed us our bags…”how are you getting back to camp tomorrow…?” “Hmmmm”….I responded…..”about that…… can you be back here at 5:45am tomorrow?” He didn’t even blink an eye….he’s a saint. <br />
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After getting our bags upstairs and realizing that we would each have our own bed, the celebration began. We headed to the managers reception for a few drinks and hit up PF Changs for dinner. Thank you Loree for making the walk over there….I think I would have just grabbed the pretzels from my pack if I had to go! During dinner, one of us spilled a drink and I ‘jumped up’ to get a towel. Several minutes later, as I was still slowly trying to make my way back to the table from the bathroom, Loree called out… “I think it’s dry!” I can only tell you that I was out when my head hit the pillow. No delusions…no dreams….just sweet, dry sleep!ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546776339745096378.post-42706857435540108112010-11-24T15:10:00.000-08:002010-11-25T07:55:23.991-08:00Day One – Walk on!After mooooving out of the bull pen, we headed out of Del Mar and walked through the neighborhood. We became experts at scouting at bathrooms off the beaten path. This became increasingly important when we realized that a wait at the Port-a-Potties could waste 30 minutes and potentially cause a very embarrassing accident! We were soon on our way to Torrey Pines. Torrey Pines could be considered my arch-nemesis. The Torrey Pines hill is well known for being steep…and long. Have I mentioned that I have exercise-induced Asthma? Actually, it should be correctly diagnoses as incline-induced asthma. I only feel it on the way up a hill. Flat ground is my friend. Just as we all develop coping skills to deal with our “issues”, I have developed mine. On a hill, I am very focused….I don’t talk….I only step and breath or maybe that is step and wheeze…and Lord help anyone that gets in my way. I heard several times from my teammates…..”Do you want to stop?” Nope…..keep going…. “Did you bring an inhaler? “ Nope…what do I look like….a nurse? Oh yeah……I am. But we know from past experience that on the 13.5 mile train walk, I was also the one that forgot the sunscreen, a hat and to drink consistently. This would be the embarrassing day that I almost passed out on the way to the car. So is it any surprise that I forgot the inhaler? Nope! Did I make it up the hill? Yep! Every day…and in the same manner….walk and wheeze all the way, baby! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I could have done the over-40 white woman dance at the top but I was surrounded by 4000 of my best friends and my hips can become a lethal weapon when not controlled effectively. I have to say that there is something powerful about seeing a solid line of people in front of you and behind you. It was amazing. Even more amazing were the people on the side lines….everywhere…and many of them for the full three days. We picked up chocolate, Twizzlers, mints and other tasty treats from the ever present community members that cheered us on. People of all ages and cultures were out in packs – we affectionately called them the Walker Stalkers. God love them! They yelled, whooped and overall kept the mood happy and light. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm55s1ZgyhNSyazOE10XfABmTIkvwj4GjElF_seot_uIwEbyHkZlUMX4gUVMG3bxfCuBgk9Y8M-7bVjmF94-28jUM5TnwIH9XZeJbQCrGzKxMlzuUnxhqoFJhuHqOsbcCTyWzalw52hRg/s1600/SJPD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm55s1ZgyhNSyazOE10XfABmTIkvwj4GjElF_seot_uIwEbyHkZlUMX4gUVMG3bxfCuBgk9Y8M-7bVjmF94-28jUM5TnwIH9XZeJbQCrGzKxMlzuUnxhqoFJhuHqOsbcCTyWzalw52hRg/s320/SJPD.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We were also surrounded by the San Jose Police and SD Police – all in bunny ears and pink tutu’s. They rode their bikes next to us, playing music and joking with everyone. Some of them men had baskets full of feminine hygiene products…just in case. One of my favorite moments was when one officer ran down the row of Port-a-Potties yelling “San Diego PD…Open up!” We got to see them dance with the Cheering groups and give a struggling walker a hug at a tough moment. The trip would not have been the same without them. </div><br />
We stopped for lunch at La Jolla Shores…11.5 miles in. A quick sandwich and change of socks and we were back on the trail to see the Seals, the community of Bird Rock and eventually….the camp. As we drew close, one of our 3Day crossing guards let us know that we were within 2 miles of being done. I cheerfully stated…”Well, heck….let’s just run it!” Eight faces turned towards me in disbelief! I wish I would have had a camera! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJDLIaUqQsVN2Iyf1Gq3EYtu5RnVYWQIqQ9yGz9ZXce3xzOPnryDeuUm2yz0FrdFdNNS5Pja3QphMx03WXu7WU5FV7ZAmfk-ABS9_2JqHq8d95E7i15KbfIbAMxPvSujy7Y_EtkVxWsk/s1600/Lunch_Day1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJDLIaUqQsVN2Iyf1Gq3EYtu5RnVYWQIqQ9yGz9ZXce3xzOPnryDeuUm2yz0FrdFdNNS5Pja3QphMx03WXu7WU5FV7ZAmfk-ABS9_2JqHq8d95E7i15KbfIbAMxPvSujy7Y_EtkVxWsk/s320/Lunch_Day1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We returned to camp to pick up our luggage and our little pink tent. Two boy scouts wandering past offered to help – we kept them within close reach lest they be hijacked by another walker! Since only one of us was a camper, tent construction promised to be very challenging without some outside help. We ended up with beach front property at the end of the row! Fabulous and a wonderful view in the morning. We grabbed dinner and hit the showers – very interesting, I must add, to shower in a semi-truck. Hot water and privacy….I would have never thought it was possible! Bedtime came quickly – fortunately at the same time that the Karaoke ended. We were very close to the dining tent and I’m assuming that the final singers were just tired….or were only able to sing when alcohol is involved! Our heads hit the pillow and day 1 was complete!</div>ssaretskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097135031443649561noreply@blogger.com0