Twinkle twinkle little star

I am up before the chickens this morning.  It is dark outside and if I'd pull up the shades a little more, I bet I could see a twinkling star.  Waking up earlier than planned happens to me when I have lots to do and little time.  I argue with myself about what I should be doing....read "get moving, fatty."  I really should exercise, but I'm dressed and ready to board a plane.  I know-- excuses, excuses.  I'm still not going against my grain on the exercise journey.  So I'm dressed and smelling good (e.g. not that sweaty smell) and I'm heading south again to crazy Austin where their motto is "Keep Austin Weird."  Not everyone there has that motto; there are some "normal" people, but I think they live in Georgetown; or at least that is THEIR motto.

Do you have a motto?  I'm thinking about what my motto would be if I had to wear it on a t-shirt.  I read a cartoon once where a guy is sitting at a light.  The car behind him is honking at him like crazy.  At first the guy is ignoring the horn but then he just can't contain himself.  He gets out of his car yelling obscenities at the woman behind him and stressing that it is STILL a red light and blah, blah, blah.  She meekly rolls down the window and says "Your bumper stickers says 'Honk if you love Jesus.'"  I have to admit:  I'd probably be that insanely mad person getting out of my car and screaming like a banshee at the person behind me (or at least I'd be thinking it out in my head!).  And that is why I don't have a "Honk if you love Jesus" bumper sticker on my car.  So what is a motto?  Would it define me?  Would I make it and then promptly forget about it?  Probably!!

Again I ask:  Do you have a motto?  A phrase to live by?  Shoot me an email and tell me your motto.  And if you are a dead-end doll, then tell me in person!!  I'll be seeing you soon!

Speaking of dolls,  I received my first colored picture from one.  Whoo hoo.  Looky at my new refrigerator art.

Happy Halloween!!!  Don'tcha just love the red, red lipstick?  No matter what your weight, red lipstick makes it all better!

Recently I purchased an already assembled chicken strip salad from a neighborhood fast food joint and decided that I could probably make one just as good and loads cheaper than the $6.00 I just paid.  So without further ado...(sorry, Graini-aunt, I can't go without mentioning food....I tried...honest!  pffff now you know that's not true.... I LOVE FOOD....Hey, I think I found my motto!)

Now tell me that doesn't look scrumptious!  You are welcome!

DDD

I believe there are 3 Ds that will help me on my weight loss journey.  Wait, I bet you thought I was going to talk about bras again, didn't you?  These 3 Ds aren't about cup sizes; they are measures to help me along the way.

• Define what it is I want to achieve from this new healthy journey.

• Drink in (okay, maybe it is about cups after all) and learn from those who have already achieved that which I have defined as wanting.

• Do what the successful person has done.

I have to think about this because I need to figure out if this weight loss journey is vanity or health or what!  Why am I doing it?  What do I hope to achieve?  This past March, the family went to Scotland.  Oh do I ever love Scotland.  We walked nearly everywhere.  Or sat on a bus.  We did not hike it to the highlands, but we did do A LOT of walking.  Guess who always brought up the rear?  Yes, me!  Hubby was a good block and a half in front of me.  When I complained and whined, he told one of the kids to go walk with momma.  Then they whined and complained.  Everyone in my family has long legs, that is, except me!  I want to be able to shoot out of the gate and leave Hubby behind for once.  Truth is, he is older than me.  Maybe at some point in our lives, I can beat him.  I really doubt it, though.  I see his 80+ year old father and that man is still climbing trees.  So, vanity aside, I want to be able to walk and do sight-seeing and fun stuff in my old age.  Carrying extra weight around in my old age is really gonna piss off the kids when they have to push my wheelchair around.  I better lose weight now so my children won't be playing rock/paper/scissors to see who's hauling momma around!

I can learn a lot from those who have achieved weight loss and are successful with an exercise program.  Yahoo has a news section called "Second Act."  They highlight real stories about people reinventing themselves.  I like to read these stories because that is what I'm doing.  I am re-inventing myself.  I'm going against my inbred grain.

Can you trust that date?

As a mother of school age children I'm not afraid of finding science projects in the refrigerator.  Heck, some aren't projects at all; they are some long lost and forgotten dinners.  Our frig even has a death drawer.  You might call yours the "vegetable bin."  So it shouldn't have come as a surprise when I opened a lid containing what I thought was pudding.  Sheesh, I only made it one day ago.  Let's just say the color was something that you'd expect to find on your child's GI Joe-- the one that's been hiding out in the backyard dirt bunker for several monsoons.  That brown/ green combo I was staring down at did not look anything like the delicious sugar-free chocolate fudge pudding photo on the box!  Now really, it was only one day old.  Recently I found some fungus community in the ricotta cheese hidden in the back of the frig that didn't look like that!  Lest you think I made super old pudding, the box stated best used before 2/17/11.  February!  Only 8 months had passed.  I thought we had at least until the end of the year to use it.  Am I wrong?  I've read the reports where you should throw away any kind of Bisquick- like product if the expiration date is over 2 years, but pudding too?  And not even a year old?  It's too much.  So down the drain when the pudding and pout-y face went the strawberry.  I really wanted some pudding but I didn't want it bad enough to sample that camouflaged concoction.

As I was still on my cooking high, I had already prepared a big crockpot full of chili.  As Hubby walked through the front door, he cheered "Shepherd's Pie!"  Boy heard that and cheered "Mashed Potatoes."  Boy is really a hobbit.  His favorite potato chant is "boil them, mash them, stick them in a stew."  I am still limiting my starchy veggies and grains so I made enough for them-- 8 cups!  During dinner, Hubby scrunched up his face and said "I think you should throw out that milk."  What???  It's expiration date was 11/18/11.

I admire farmers and ranchers.  Grow your own beef, grain, veggies, milk.  It's a hard life, I know.  But at least you know "the buck stops here."

Pass the Bowl

Warning:  Content may be disturbing to vegetarians. Viewer discretion advised.

Before I get in to today's topic, I wanted to mention the quick breakfast by Aunt Jemima.  I was in a rush this morning (seems to happen more and more) so I popped this frozen breakfast into the microwave.  It is quick and satisfying for those rushed days.  I didn't have time to dish it out and pretty it up like the other day so I just ate out of the original packaging.  Here it is...

Lots of potatoes and green and red things!

It also passes the quick and simple and good taste-test of the strawberry.

Moving right along...

I'm a carnivore but I love my veggies too.  I planned my little heart out and cooked...all day to be exact.  It's not so hard once you start; it's the starting part that is so hard!  I boiled a chicken and used the broth for my vegetable soup (which is yummy, by the way)

yummy broth

 Makes yummy veggie soup.

 Stew in the pot for tonight or tomorrow or tonight and tomorrow!

It's amazing all you can accomplish once you set your mind and stove to it!  Well dang, now what am I going to do?  I'm the type of strawberry that likes to prove I can do something and then move on.  I'm afraid Hubby could get used to this. Nah, he really does like to cook and fortunately I like to eat.  We're a great team.  I think I'll keep him.

Say "Cheese!"

You have to be a nutzoid to come home from shopping, set up your groceries, and ...

TAKE A PICTURE!!!  I mean really; I take more pictures of my food and my pets than I do my own children.  I believe Kitzilla comes running when she hears the camera power on.

Welcome to the Strawberry Nut House.

Say "cheese"--darn, where's the cheese?!

There is a method to this madness:  I planned!!!  I woke up and decided "Today is the Day."  It's D-Day in the nuthouse.  For breakfast I'm trying out Weight Watchers Smart Ones for those days (like yesterday and the day before and the day before that and ...) when you don't have time to make a "smart" choice.  Breakfast is the meal of champions.  Or so they say.

Pull it out of the box and do not pull back the plastic.

Pop in the microwave.  See how easy and fast...3 minutes.

You can either eat right out of the container, but please don't eat this while driving.  I know you are in a rush, but scrambled eggs down the front of your clothing is not very appealing not to mention taking your eyes off the road is very dangerous!!

Or you can pull out a pretty plate and add some fruit...and a little low-fat caramel sauce...with a huge gulp of diet coke...hey, I said I was going against my grain; I never said I'd be perfect at it!  And voilà...

Note to self: don't ever let the low-fat caramel sauce seep over onto the eggs.  blah

All in all, a very good alternative to the fast food drive-thru.  Tomorrow I'll be trying out another fast breakfast.  After all, we want to be a champion, right?

P.S.

 Happy Birthday, "J" Grainiac!!!

Just a Quickie

Yesterday was a rushed day; today will be a rushed day.  I seem to be falling back into old habits where I'm rushed and don't have time to plan-- let alone think---about meals.  Boy and I have been roughing it without our #1 chef.  Hubby eats lunch and then decides what to have for dinner...and then makes it!  I'm the opposite; heck, I just ate; I have no idea what I want for dinner.  As you know I can't meal plan worth a hoot.  If I could, I probably would not be in this pant size!!  So today is rushed and I do mean rushed.  In addition to my already packed, crazy-busy day, we had a freeze last night.  Boy and I were hauling in plants.  I don't have many, but what I do have I want to keep!  Kitzilla and Co. were fascinated with all the stationary green things in the house last night.  You would have thought I was setting a feast before them.  I have a few tomato vines with tomatoes AND flowers on them so those babies went straight into the privacy of the privy.  Ditto for the green pepper plants.  I have a recipe in mind for them and it doesn't involve Kitzilla using it as a little green punching bag.  When all was said and done last night, I heaved ho all the plants into two bathrooms, dropped a full bowl of rainwater all over the hardwood floors, cussed, cried, and mopped.  I just cannot get ahead.

This morning we had little slimy antennae-ed slugs enjoying the great indoors.  So I'm on a round-up; following a slimy path and praying I don't step on one.  blaaah.  And before you ask; escargot is NOT on the menu today!

Welcome to my world....

Hello Little Slug, come out to play.

Good Little Slug.  Let's take a ride....flush!

Kitzilla's green punching bags.

Yum! Fresh tomatoes.

 

Somewhere in time

I had a huge crush on Christopher Reeves in my teens.  Who could forget Superman- the 1978 version?  My daughter and I watched Somewhere in Time and she exclaimed “that is the most depressing movie I’ve ever seen.”  Now tell me your heart doesn’t drop when you hear that theme song?  I told her “Yes, but isn’t he hunky-dory?"  She gagged “ewww, what,  he’s like Daddy’s age?”  Yeah, I guess it would be like my mom trying to get me to have romantic notions about Marlon Brando.  EWWWW

But this post isn’t about dead guys.  It’s about dead clocks.  Specifically dead clocks in my house!  Someone gave me a wise tip once about setting the clocks a few minutes ahead so I'd never be late.  You would think I could handle it, wouldn't you?  I didn't always have this problem.  My mom makes sure she is at the airport at least 2 hours before her flight takes off and she was doing this way before 9-11.  Sometime after taking Hubby's last name, all sense of time flew out the window.  I like to say "That's a Berry thing."  My sister-in-law and I can think up a whole list of "Berry-things" as a matter of fact.  

This morning I had a commitment and I didn't want to be late.  I checked the clock in my bedroom...it was blinking...I hadn't reset it since the power outage on Monday.  Who needs an alarm clock when a 10 pound cat with breath like water from a stagnant fish bowl and a cry that mimics fingernails on a chalkboard jumps on your belly every morning demanding breakfast?  Can we say headache and bad mood?!

blinking 5:57 p.m. or a.m.  Take your pick! Now you see it....

Now you don't!

So I padded down the hall to the kitchen to check the kitchen clock...

It's a ravioli time....somewhere!

Cute clock but this SOB is toying with me!  I change his batteries frequently and his time is either slowing down or speeding up.  Either way, it is ALWAYS wrong!!  Now that's-a not-a nice, Tubby!
The other clocks in the kitchen?  Check out the microwave...

Hasn't been reset since the power outage. I'm looking pretty lazy, huh?

Stove clock is never right because we use the timer and that is connected to the clock so the hands spin out of control when we go to set the timer!  You know, I'm kinda proud I make it to any function at all!

Thank God for cropping. This picture doesn't show whatever goop is on the stove!

I have 2 clocks that are the closest to the actual time of day it is.  Why I don't throw out all the other ones is beyond me.  I finally looked at them and realized I needed to hit the road, otherwise I was really going to be late.

So why blog about my inadequate clocks and my refusal to do anything about them?  Because I'm going against my grain and my grain tells me to ignore them and run around the house trying to find the correct time of day.  But going against my grain tells me I DON'T HAVE THE TIME to run around looking at every timepiece trying to remember if it is correct for me or correct for Indonesia.  Time is precious and although I can claim I exercised for the day by running through the house; it is not productive.  I'm all for being productive.  I even reset the bedroom clock!

I'm not fat; I'm cluttered!

Why is it: the more organized a messie person is the less they can find?  Can there be order to our mess?  Hubby thinks so.  I walk into his office and even I think it is messy.  He, though, can find everything he needs.  Need a napkin?  He’s got one or a hundred on his desk.  Need a theological magazine?  I guarantee the one you want is atop the desk.  Need a writing utensil?  Well, that might take a little longer to find, but somewhere nestled between the tomes is one.  No wonder we had boat-loads of arguments when we first married.  He wanted to keep all the contents of the house out in plain sight.  I, on the other hand, preferred to stuff everything in a drawer, a closet, or laundry hamper to at least appear to be tidy and organized.  So it didn’t come as a shock to lose the rechargeable batteries that I had left somewhere on my desk.  I mean, really, why can’t I find those ding dong batteries?!

Doesn't everyone have a plastic butterfly on their desk?

I asked Kitzilla.  She is pleading the 5th!

Are you talking to me?? Batteries?  What desk? 

I asked the other culprit.  He prefers to ignore me and knock things off any level or not so level surface.  So you can see why I accuse them first.

Here; let me knock off that stupid looking butterfly for ya!

I've learned through time not to blame the children.  Clean something up/ organize it?  Ha, these apples don't fall far from the parental tree!  Me?  Why I can't be expected to remember where I put everything; now can I?  It's not my fault, I tell you!! 

Now did I do that? (in my nasally Steve Urkel voice)

Not only is my house and my body cluttered, but my mind is cluttered too.  I'm taking charge...hehehe.  No, I'm not talking shock treatment, but I wonder...does it work?  I mean I'm going on a clean up campaign.

P.S.  Stay tuned.  You will either be seeing a stronger more organized strawberry.  Or you won't be seeing me anymore as the dust bunnies and clutter staged a coup and I am now under house arrest.

My Cup Runneth Over

I've had it with bras!  You could call it my Bra Tirade.  No, I'm not rebelling against the system and planning to burn mine.  I'm just tired of trying to find the perfect one.  I've measured above the cup and subtracted; I've measured below the cup and subtracted; I still cannot find the perfect fit.  I'm thinking next time I should try measuring my thigh and my elbow-- I might finally have the perfect bra size.  I have had it with bras.  Lingerie makers:  Why can't a B cup BE a B cup?  Or a C or a DDDDDDDDDDDD-- whatever the cup size!  I bet you all sit up nights laughing at the poor fools who measure anything bigger than a training bra.  And don't get me started on training bras!  You did not train me well!  I'm ready to write to the President.  Forget the economy- I don't have enough money to support my "find a perfect bra size" fund anyway.  I'm going broke- did you know that nice bras cost over $15.00?  No wonder our economy is in crisis.  Full busted women!  Unite  or  Unhook!  Let's buy up every ace bandage and wrap ourselves silly.  I say give me enough ace bandage to harness these puppies and I'll be good to go.  

Be sure to lower your arm before applying; otherwise you'll just look silly!

Remember the Madonna craze with the water cup bra?  Well, I'm thinking she was on to something.  Go have your sip of water from the water cooler and then sneak a second cup and presto!  Recycling/ reusing/ reducing at its finest.

I mean really, I should be able to buy a bra in my measured size and it should fit.  I went to the Playtex website and measured the exact way they said.  I went to JCPenney's (they are having a great bra sale) and bought my size.  Got home; tried it on and look, Ma...I have boobs in the front.  I have boobs under my arms and I have boobs on my back.  No matter which way I'm facing, I have some girls facing that direction too.  Problem is I DON'T WANT BOOBS every which way!  I love that most bra manufacturing websites tell you to be sure to have a professional fit you.  Say what?  I'm a woman.  I don't have to have another woman show me how to measure and bend and stuff them in a bra.  I've been doing this since 4th grade for heaven's sake.  I should not have to expect to have "a professional" poke and prod in my space-- you know?  I could go to the gynecologist if I'm feeling that masochistic.  No thank you!  Just make the bras the same size each time!  Is that really asking too much?  I think not.

So, it's back to the store to exchange them.  I guess I should stay and try them on, but that really burns my bra.  If you happen to pass by a dressing room and hear whimpering, you might be tempted to stop and help.  It's probably some poor soul fighting the urge to call in the professionals.

40 lashes with...

a limp noodle?  No, I'm off grains.  How about a huge yellow squash?  May I just admit --Going against the grain still has me bamboozled!  Take Wednesday for example.  I did a strawberry no-no.  Background info:  It was my turn to hostess the ladies meeting on Wednesday!  As usual I started thinking about what I could make on Tuesday night right before bed in my jammies with a cookbook in hand.  Yahtzee!  I found a weight watcher friendly dessert.  Each mini phyllo tart was one point (either on the old plan or new plan...in case you were interested!).  Next thought:  ingredients in my cupboard and frig?  Check and double check except for one main one.  Easy enough; I'd run to the store and pick it up first thing in the morning and I'd continue to squash any thoughts about how this new dessert might taste.  Wednesday morning, not so bright and early as hoped, I ran to the store to purchase enough ingredients to whipped up a batch.  No point in buying lots of it if it doesn't pass the child or dog test.  I decided it was tasty and lady-worthy when Son didn't choke, gag, and fake death.  So I hopped back in the car to purchase the ingredients in bulk.  Remember my Dad's saying: if one's good; two's better!  This time to the store I felt in control.  I knew my recipe was good and I was maybe walking a little cocky...not like my earlier panicked dash to the store.  BIG MISTAKE.  I strutted over to the cheese case where the cream cheese is located.  I bet your store displays it with the dairy.  Am I right?  And what do my wandering eyes focus on?

Heaven in a tub.  "Heavenly Classic" to be exact!

Have you ever seen or tasted the Philadelphia brand cheesecake filling?  Ooo la la.  Ready to spoon out and eat.  The wheels in my head were spinning.  Gee, I thought, that would be easier than hauling out the mixer again and the attachments and cleaning the bowl and attachment.  Just fill a teaspoon of cheesecake filling in a mini phyllo cup.  But it needs a topping!  Notice the pie filling and topping.  Man alive, my brain was working overtime on this dessert.  Why didn't I just keep with my original plan??????  This going against my grain is a full-time job!  I need a secretary or a sergeant of arms.  Someone to keep me in line.   At the meeting, the ladies ooh'ed and ahh-ed over my dessert.

They did look nice, especially the apricot filling ones.  They're all gone--- no photos-- you'll just have to take my word: they were heavenly.  Hit me with that squash, please!!!  The ladies thought I'd spent a lot of time making them. Actually making up a batch of cookie dough and spooning it out on a baking sheet would have taken more time-- and that's not even counting the bake time.  When all was said and done I had about (who's counting?) yikes, seven left-over.  By the time of the picture...well you can count! Needless to say, I will not be making any more of these little buggers unless ALL of them are consumed.  My wonderful weight watcher tarts were 1 point each.  These little treats are 2 points each (at least).  I'm not going to tell you how many points I consumed just on tarts.  Let's just say I made a meal of them.  Remember my mantra?  How quickly can you get back on track?  My train derailed last night.  Sooooo, here's my kick in the butt.  Mistakes will be made; after all we are human.  Even a good plan needs a detour every now and then; otherwise it makes for a dull strawberry and I do not want to be thin and dull.  Of course the thin part is looking pretty iffy!

Shake Your Booty

I'm thinking about exercising--- note: I'm just thinking about it.  There's a big difference between thinking and doing.  I've read all about "seeing in your mind's eye" type of philosophy.  Yeah, right!  I imagine myself floating through the air like a Dancing with the Stars dancer...which reminds me- I recall my ballet days as a child.  I HATED those humongous mirrors.  What I was seeing in the mirror was not what I was imagining I looked like.  Think bull in a china closet... a flat-footed bull.  I do like yoga but I'm not disciplined right now to keep at it.  Yesterday I started singing "Shake your Booty" but the reality is my song should be "Watch it wiggle; see it jiggle."  Why do I fight exercise tooth and nail?  I feel better after a walk or 30 minutes on the stationary bike but to get myself  "in the groove" is just too much for this strawberry.  I think I have to make time.  No more excuses.  No more whining about it.  No more, ahem, typing about it.   So I'm off, dear grainiacs, to work up a schedule for my exercising gig.  Ooh, I have an idea: I'll start with my brain; it needs exercising.  I have a great Sudoku book; it's right next to my coloring books.  I'm imagining great things!!!

Hi Ho... oh whatever

Ya know it's gonna be one of those days when you....

• promised your son you'd take him somewhere and you are already late for your appointment
• you also promised to take the dogs and they are now on a leash by the front door
• you open the front door and there's a dead squirrel in front of the glass storm door
• the dogs AND the cats see the squirrel
• all four animals WANT that dead squirrel "can we keep it, huh, huh, can we keep it?"
• you realize uh oh, it's gonna be one of those days

That was my yesterday.  Thank you, it's over.

This morning I got on Kaa (my s-s-s-scale) and did not see the results I was hoping to s-s-s-see.  Looks like I'm having another one of those days-- damn it!  Don't get me wrong, I've lost 15 pounds so far but my goal was to lose 2 lbs a week.  One pound (even though it is a loss) has gotten me off my goal.  I'm not beating myself up about it; it just means NO MORE MARGARITAS IN SAN ANTONIO.  Oh but it was so good.  I guess that's the give and take of dieting.  I can have whatever I want, right?  It will just take me longer to achieve my goal.  I remember as a teen (yeah, and probably as an adult too) my friends would make fun of my shopping tactics--  I didn't have a plan (surprise!).  I would be looking through one area and run to a totally different section of the store, only to come back to where I was in the first place.  My brother's best friend laughed when he heard Hubby and I were getting married.  He described Hubby setting out on a path and walking straight down that path-- no deviating.  He described me as walking along and then jetting off into the bushes and then back on the path.  AND just in case I didn't get it, he also provided hand motions to illustrate me swerving on and off that path.  I mean honestly, I think I would have been diagnosed ADD in the 70's if Dr. had known about it and given it a name!  But I admit it:  I love life.  I want to enjoy it and live it to my full extent.  And yes, that means jetting on and off my path occasionally.  I am a little more systematic these days.  Quite frankly I don't have the stamina to shop that way.  Is it by the front door of the store?  Great; I'll take it!

So I'll pick myself up by my boot straps, dust myself off (I sure wish there was 1 pound of dust to dust off-- then I'd be back on target, pardner!) and hi ho silver my ass back on my weight loss happy trails.  Should I include hand motions?

Let them eat cake!

Sunday Rev. Hubby was honored for pastor appreciation and the wonderful ladies of the church bought two different kinds of cake—a devil’s food chocolate cake and a white cake for those poor souls who don’t like chocolate (I can’t believe they really exist).  This Strawberry was not even tempted by those delicious delicacies.  Not at all!  Who am I???  I couldn’t believe it.  I have reached the part where (to me) nothing tastes as good as being thinner looks.  In the weight watcher circle, there is a phrase “nothing tastes as good as skinny looks.”  I like my phrase better because I have seen some unhealthy looking skinny people and I’ve seen some healthy looking larger people.  I want to be a healthy thinner person.  I AM truly going against my grain.  Hallelujah!

Look Ma! No cake crumbs on my black dress!

I mentioned in a previous blog that I traveled this past week.  What I didn't mention was I didn’t plan out what I would eat.  I’m still struggling with that plan word; what can I say?  My friend and I stayed at two different hotels.  Each one had a fabulous breakfast buffet!  JB was worried I wouldn’t be able to find anything to eat at the complimentary continental breakfasts.  Let’s face it, most establishments provide sweet rolls or cereal or toast.  Or maybe I’m showing how long it has been since I’ve stayed at a hotel!  The first one had those items PLUS scrambled eggs, sausage links, and hard boiled eggs.  Since we were in Texas, they also had Texas shaped waffles.  They are so cute—so big!  I wonder if hotels in Florida offer Florida shaped waffles.  Probably not, it might be mistaken for a male appendage.  Eeeks, let’s not go there!  The second hotel provided fruit cups, yogurt, sausage cheese biscuits, TX waffles and mini waffles and fresh fruit.  We were really impressed with both hotels.  For lunch and dinner, we picked places that we could both enjoy.  You've gotta love San Antonio.

The sights....

San Fernando Cathedral

Emily Morgan Hotel

The sounds....I wish I could upload the mariachi music we heard over and over and over and over.....while eating our dinner that first night.  Then during our historic walk (yes, we got in exercise too!), we were serenaded by screaming Americorps Kids yelling cheers at the Commissioner's Court and then by the Sam Houston marching band.  They were excellent and very entertaining.

Food and Song

The tastes....

olé!

The smells.....

Hot Tamale

and let's not ever forget the ......SHOPPING!!!!!  Whatever you do: do not open up the credit card bill too early after the trip.  The margarita or the cigar smoke or the corn concoction will come back up!  Just saying.

Mariachi Plaza had no mariachi music. Go figure!

oooh, and I found the dog in Corpse Bride (I hear he ran away from Tim Burton-- not making as much money as Johnny Depp!)....

Bienvenidos! Grainiacs

Hello from beautiful downtown San Antonio!

Please forgive me for not writing yesterday but I was lost...well not really lost, we knew we were in a car and we knew we were driving in a direction but the exact location was a mystery.  If you have never been to SA, then you cannot imagine the highways.  Picture a bowl of spaghetti....literally.  How do you San Antonians knew where you are going?  I remember years ago my in-laws coming to meet us in SA.  My farmer father-in-law very calmly and meticulously folded up his newly purchased SA map, handed it to me and laughed "here."  He also mumbled some words like "ain't no way in hell, I'm coming back here."  Thankfully we don't have a job in SA....we'd never see my dear father-in-law.  Lest you think that mild mannered man didn't say that; just ask him about it!  I think San Antonio has that effect on people.  But I love it....being lost and all.  Getting lost helped us find the Ogle College (school of beauty).  What a treat!  Just exactly what I needed after one month and now two weeks of being very good on my diet.  We women need to pamper ourselves... A LOT!!

Diets are like getting lost in San Antonio.  You might take a detour...or veer into another lane as you are marveling at God's beautiful city (just keep your eyes on the road, J!), but the good thing is you seem to find your way-- either with the help of a map, your "on-star" Hubby (let's give a cheer to internet and cell phones!), or a friend to get lost with and back on track.  Friends and family are good "turnaround" markers.  Marvel at them!

Sportin' a new 'do

A couple of days ago I had the “ho hums.”  Do you know what I’m talking about?  The “I don’t give a duck what happens” type of attitude and I didn’t like it one bit but I couldn’t get out of it.  I didn’t want to journal what I was eating; I didn’t want to cook or decide what to eat—I just wanted it set before me.  Why did Oprah tell us she has a personal cook?  Now I want one!!!  Can I just say: Uh Oh, the old strawberry was coming back?  Grainiacs, this is how I got into this mess in the first place.  Then it hit me.  Achy shoulders, tickle in the throat, feeling like I was off balance, snot caught in the back of my throat…I was sick.  I had been fighting this cold and/or allergy attack for a week.  I let myself get run down instead of resting.  The old strawberry would have run (or called Hubby to run) out to the store (yeah, more likely I would have called Hubby to run to the store) and pick up ice cream/ sherbet/ Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and saltine crackers.  That is my “I’m sick” comfort food.  We all have comfort food for different times, don’t we?  If you don’t, please don’t write and tell me that.  I’m in a delicate state right now…sniff sniff.   I still have **mutter***mutter***mutter** pounds to lose and I have worked hard to lose those 10 pounds.  So instead of eating my sick comfort foods, I fought my inner strawberry and ate fruit!  Yes, you read right.  I’m sick and I’m eating fruit.  It’s really not a good combination if you know what I mean, but fruit sounds so good and healthy.   I’m not only eating fruit, but nuts too!  What is with me?  Remember that guy, Euell Gibbons, who ate bark off a tree?  Why would Grape Nuts cereal hire HIM?  Do they really want Grape Nuts to be associated with tree bark?  You know, I’ve never eaten tree bark and we do have a dead tree in the backyard…  Nah, I don’t care how sick I am; I’m not eating tree bark.  Problem with being sick is you ramble. 

SOOOOO, all this (you know, sickness, fruits, nuts, Euell Gibbons) made me think about my attitude.  I have been a good strawberry for one month and one week.  I know, you are thinking “I guess it was too much for bad strawberry—she was bound to blow!”  Well I say “dieting is bad for your health!”  HA  I’m just kidding.  You really have to take anything on this blog with a grain (get it?) of salt.  It is allergy season for me and I will not let a little allergy season “blow” my diet.  I’m sporting a new ‘do—I can ‘do this!

P.S.  Here are my bicycle photos.  Check out that seat and tell me if you don't think "up yours!"

Tour de Rural

I have Queen’s Bicycle Race song stuck in my head.  If you don’t know what I’m talking about, don’t search the internet or you’ll have this silly song stuck in your head too.  Actually it all started several days ago (yes, that IS how long I’ve been yelling out “Bicycle”) when my wonderful Boy attached my pretty white basket to my bike.  Yes, actually I do feel like Jessica Fletcher only Jessica rode her bike on beautiful New England roads (do they really exist?) and I dodged cars and potholes in my rural town.  Watch out, commissioners, I’m coming after you once I can walk normally.  You see, Hubby tightened my bicycle seat and he must have been thinking “up yours” because that’s exactly how that seat was positioned!

Recently I rode my bike to a church function.  I was riding and talking on phone; why do I still think I can multi-task?  As I was riding my friend said I knew you were on your bike; I could hear the wind whishing on the phone.  I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was going less than 2 mph and that whishing noise was my nose trying to take in enough oxygen to keep me upright!  We both decided I should hang up and watch the road.  Personally I was more concerned with my snack in the basket.  Did I mention the potholes?  I’m glad I didn’t pack my snack in glass (so much for rhyming).  My snack and I bumped up and down Main St. to the church.  

By the time I got there I was hyper-ventilating.   Hubby came out of his office because he thought I was whistling for him to come and get his dinner.  My nose and chest were conducting some sort of wheezing/ whistling medley.  I made some excuse about getting my Bible for the study and collapsed on the couch in his office.  Thank goodness for that couch!

As members arrived they asked about the bike in the hall.  I could overhear them talking about how Strawberry rode her bike to the church.  Did I catch a note of awe in their voices?  I was feeling pretty smug about my feat until they also remarked about seeing another member on her bike.  This woman is 20+ years older than me AND she recently had knee replacement surgery!  Oh well.  I’m off to the store to buy a horn while singing “I want to ride my BICYCLE!!”

Ponder This

I have a theological question or a “things that make you go hmmm.”  Remember Arsenio Hall?  My church serves wine and grape juice during communion-- the wine for the more “traditional” members and the grape juice is for those not liking the wine.  I think this simple act is a blessing for the recovering alcoholics who pledge never to let alcohol pass through their lips again.  But what about the recovering grainiac?  What about us?  This thought never even dawned on me until yesterday.

During our communion service, I was staring down at a tray of little white pockets of bread-- the very bread I have given up.  I thought one little piece won’t hurt so I went to pick up the top little pocket.  Of course!  It was stuck to several little pockets of bread.  I can never catch a break!  So there I am desperately trying to shake loose one little piece of bread.  Meanwhile the next congregant is smiling patiently waiting for the tray.  Finally I drop the cluster of bread pockets and pick up a little lone piece from the side.  I know, you are thinking sanitation, but I started thinking about gluten allergies.  What about those people?  Do they skip communion?  I mentioned this thought to Rev. Hubby and told him that next communion service, I was going to bring an almond.  Hey, it’s the same color as bread and let’s face it: you should have your head bowed and be praying….not staring at me crunching on an almond!  So being the pastoral person he is, Rev. Hubby raises his arms and declares “The Almond of Heaven.”  I retorted that nowhere in the Bible does it mention grape juice either.  We like having theological discussions like that!

For those of us without the allergies (I’m not allergic to gluten, I just don’t like what it does to my waistline), how can we be prepared for these instances?  It goes back to that darn 4-letter word I have such a time remembering…. PLAN.  I mean, really, why can’t I be one step ahead of myself?  Any ideas for me?

You are what you read!

Years ago I invited a friend and her husband to dinner.  I noticed the husband was engrossed with all the books on my bookshelf.  I searched the deep recesses of my mind to make sure I hadn’t inadvertently placed a “questionable book” there while cleaning up.  He turned around and smiled and told me you can tell a lot about a person by the books on their shelves.”  I didn’t bother to ask him what he found out.  I’ll ask you, though.  What do your book shelves say about you?  At present, mine are saying “cough, cough, cough….I ….can’t….breathe….cough, cough, cough.”  Those darn dust bunnies are getting it on again.  Shame on them.

This distant memory came to me while I was checking my email account.  I decided to take a look at my “email shelf” to see what it had to say.  It sure doesn’t say I have a lot of friends that write!  Hint…hint.  Just today I noticed I have one actual letter (thank you, P), one letter that just says to get my butt in gear and write on my blog (I don’t count that as an actual letter! ahem) and the rest are spam letters for losing weight AND recipes.  I have to laugh.  Most of the recipe emails are “dinner made easy” which include chicken fried steak or some other Southern mouth-watering dessert to go with the CFS—not at all what I need.  Or I will get the occasional prozac lawsuit settlement email or my fav- the “biggest loser club” email (I’ve gotten that one more than once!).  I’m afraid to open it for fear they aren’t talking about weight!

How did I get ALL this spam-mail?  I know exactly how it happened.  I signed up for one diet website and then another and then another and before I could say “dust bunnies” it multiplied like, well, dust bunnies on my book shelf.  Note to self: dust the dang book shelf so I’ll quit writing about it on my blog!

I know there is a correlation between fluff, i.e. stuff, crap, “treasures”, in the house and the fluff around my tummy.  For you, dear Grainiacs, I will search high and low for more “official” reports to prove this.  I will write this pledge in the dust on my shelf.  It will be safe there; I hardly ever get out the Pledge and a dust rag.