Monday, August 23, 2010

Dress You Up

I went shopping today...for some more workout clothes...I can't believe I can actually buy some IN A STORE and not online from the fat chick websites.

I bought some tops the other day from Lucy. A friend told me about Lucy so I checked out the website (because I was too lazy to drive to Highland Village, not because of size! yea!) and bought a few things.

They fit...

If you want some nice workout gear that has a great fit, a long length in tops (I like that for spin), and actually makes you look BETTER when you put it on (vs. looking like a squashed sack of potatoes), try Lucy...

But today I headed to Academy and picked up a couple of new pairs of compression shorts for cycle (I don't care for the padded bike shorts) and some new t-shirts because the tents I am wearing are starting to be...tents...

It felt good even though I was buying an XL...at least it wasn't a 2X or 3X...it's been a while since I could fit an XL.

I slid into a smaller t-shirt last night too...that felt GREAT!

Tomorrow I am sitting in while GOTT and TTG audition 8th graders for the fall musical. I watch and tell them if I can make a scrawny 8th grader look like a princess. GOTT is considering 2 shows...one will be easy...the other terrifies me. I won't say what they are lest I jinx myself (trust me, I am really pulling for one because I have done it before) but the challenge of the scary one does offset the terror...a bit...

Costuming children is something I have found that I really enjoy. I love the challenge of getting 70-80 kids into costumes and having them all look good enough to make their mamas proud.

In the fall of 2004 I was sorting some stuff in the Fine Arts Center and I was watching GOTT and TTG work on a set design for a Christmas show with a Victorian theme. The set looked...ok...but it needed something. It needed a woman's touch. As married men whose wives probably buy a lot of the decor, I knew that they were missing some stuff...greenery and ribbons and wreaths and candelabra.

So I asked, "can I dress up the set a bit? I can help...I watch a lot of "Trading Spaces"! And I worked on sets for our Junior League Children's Theater!!!!"

They said "go for it!". Little did they know what they were getting into. 5 1/2 years later they haven't told me to go away...yet...

I went home...and I went for it.

I came back with ribbon, garland, wreaths, and some fancy cording.

When I got to the stage a young man, who I love dearly dearly dearly, was sitting on the stage. He watched me work.

Then he said: "Hi, I'm BF and I am your neighbor. I see you driving down the street. I am SF's brother. Does Mr. GOTT and Mr. TTG know you are doing this? Because it looks A LOT better..."

That boy, who is now a man and a sophomore at a prestigious college, earned the right to one of my kidneys (should he so need one) with that speech. I love love love him...he went on to be a lead in our spring show that year ("The Music Man") and sang a song called "Shapoopi"...you have to love someone who, at age 14, will get on stage and sing something called Shapoopi.

So GOTT and TTG come and see my work...and like the god he is, GOTT pronounced "it was good"...(and so ends the lesson...LOL).

So come spring of 2005 I was looking for something to do and I asked GOTT if I could help. He asked if I would be willing to costume "The Music Man"...I said "yes" because I was desperate to get close to his genius and soak it up and learn from him. I also did it so I would do something more with my day than shop...at least this way if I was shopping, I was doing it with someone else's money. I didn't really know what the heck I was doing but I thought I could learn as I went.

Saying "yes" that day changed my life.

I gained a friend (GOTT) who I love as much as a woman can love another man who is not her husband, son, or brother. He is my brother...I love love love him.

TTG is also a close friend who I love love love...and his humor and insight into the Lord always makes me glad I can say he is my friend.

I've spoken of my love for them before...but I can never get enough of learning from them and working with them. I could tell you stories...but they would kill me. Suffice it to say that I may not get paid in $$$ for what I do but they repay me in good times and fun...and I know they appreciate what I do to help them with the shows.

And they are really glad that I have a black belt in shopping so they don't have to do it.

But the other thing that saying "yes" that day was to save me...

Because I was saved by a group of 78 8th grade kids.

My mother died in April of 2005. The show was just a few weeks away. I had done about 60% of the costuming when she passed, but I still had a lot to do. I can't sew anything to save my life but I am really good at borrowing and eBay, so I had gathered most of what we needed, I just needed to fit everyone and jazz it up.

Losing my mother was the most devastating event of my life. Not going to talk about it right now....

But I got pretty good at having a pity party for myself in the days after her funeral and I took to my bed. And I really just wanted to stay there.

And after a couple of days, as I was laying there railing at God for taking my mother from me, He told me to get out of that bed and take care of those children. I had 78 kids that needed me...and 2 men...and a husband, and 2 children who did not need to watch their mother spend her days in bed.

So I got up.

And I took a shower.

And I put on some sweats...brushed my wet hair...and without make-up I went to the school.

I forgot that on that particular day the kids did not have drama class but were in religion and were listening to the school chaplain as they sat in the Fine Arts Center. So I snuck into the back and sat down on a table while I tried to figure out how to sneak backstage and check out the mess of costumes that I had abandoned 10or so days before.

One of them saw me. My precious Lovely Lauren.

She told Father W that I was in the back and could she go and hug me.

He said "yes".

She came...and trailing her was the class...

Lots of tears...lots of tears now as I remember them coming to me...

My Big Ben, a precious HUGE child, wrapped me in his arms and I sobbed quite a lot all over his uniform. To this day I get the BEST hugs from him. I would give him a kidney too...

I told them I was "back" and that I would return the next day.

I found GOTT and told him I was ready to work. He was sweet and gentle and urged me to keep busy.

Soon I was back in the groove and those kids brought me back.

And they looked awesome on stage.

And when I see any of them to this day I always thank them for giving me a reason to do something for them and not just feel sorry for myself.

I don't get paid for what I do but when a teenager runs screaming across a crowded room to throw himself in your arms, I get paid pretty well...very well...extremely well.

A friend told me the other day that she and her son can directly credit the fact that her son is student body president at a prestigious high school in town to the fact that he was in the 8th grade musical. He thanks GOTT for casting him and letting him express himself on stage because it gave him courage and a belief in himself. He credits me with dressing him up and telling him he looked good and whispering encouragement to him while I got him in his costumes. He is a great kid...and he gets a kidney...

I'm running out of kidneys...I hope only one of them ever needs one.

I've costumed everything from "The Sound of Music" to "Cinderella" to "Macbeth". I love seeing the kids on stage...I cry...

Last spring I was treated to a truly magical moment during our production of Cinderella.

Our Cinderella, let's call her Cindy, had gone out and bought a dress without letting me take a look at what she was purchasing. It was the one thing I asked of her---do not get a ball gown without me. But she did.

It was dreckitude. Well, maybe not dreckitude...but it was a hot mess that only a 14year old girl could love. It was a fluffy confection of TEAL (I don't know about you but thanks to Disney, in my brain Cinderella should wear a baby blue dress) with swirly hem and looked like a tutu.

Not exactly in line with my Renaissance style vision.

A friend very very very sweetly loaned us a stunning stunning stunning dress that belonged to her daughter. I loved my friend before this, but with this little act of kindness she sealed the deal. She gets a kidney.

The dress had been made for another production of Cinderella. It was the "right" blue. It was fluffy and it SPARKLED with jewels. It was absolutely perfect. I love love love that dress.

Cindy sees the dress on the mannequin that my friend brought it on and asks if she can try it on.

I send up a prayer of thanks to the Lord.

We get into the dressing room and I slip the gown over her head.

Before I zip her up I pray again;" Dear Lord, I have been a good girl. I have made 20 trips to pick out costumes at Performing Arts Supply with children and worked their fittings and helped them all pick out ballgowns and court costumes. The teal thing is a hot mess. Please let this dress fit!"

I grasped the zipper.

It slid up....perfectly

The dress was made for her figure.

She. Looked. Perfect.

She stepped onto the stage in the dress and everyone in the room (a class of 5th graders and some adults) froze. And then applauded.

I didn't find this dress...it found me...and I love love love my friend for letting us use it. I am more than a little obsessed with this dress.

But Cindy liked her other dress too. And we had some tearful conversations about it but she understood that my word was the final one and I wanted her in the sparkly blue dress...not the teal hot mess.

But she couldn't see herself as we saw her.

But on opening night, that magical moment happened.

It was the ballroom scene. When the Prince first sees Cinderella (Rogers and Hammerstein version) at the top of the stairs. GOTT lit the scene perfectly. Everyone was frozen on stage except for Cinderella who was bathed in blue light and the rest of the stage was dark. She was sparkling up there. She took my breath away.

And from the audience comes the voice of a small child:
"Look! It's Cinderella!" (really more like "Wook! It's Cin-da-wella!")

The audience burst into laughter and applause.

I burst into tears.

I resisted the urge to run to the sound booth and ask GOTT how much he loved me at that moment...

It worked...I helped to make a moment happen. A powerful and very special moment. With some help from my friend and her dress...and of course GOTT and that incredible lighting and staging.

But I put her in the dress...and it zipped---although it DIDN'T zip in the earlier scene because she ran out of the dressing room before I could calm her down. In 14 previous shows I had never sent a child out "undone". But that time she ran on stage and squirmed her way into getting the zipper up before Fairy Godmother sang "Impossible".

I will savor that moment (the "It's Cindawella" moment, not the unzipped one!) for a long time.

Only one other time have I had a serious wardrobe malfunction. Sound of Music. One short Von Trapp boy. One tall Von Trapp boy. In a quick change the short boy grabbed the tall boy's leiderhosen shorts. So tall boy was forced to put on short boy's pants. I didn't see it...I was dressing "Maria" and some Von Trapp girls.

I'm waiting for them to come back off stage (it was a 2 minute scene) when the child who was stage manager informed me that GOTT wished to speak to me on the headset. I got on and said "what's up, honey?"

He answers: "why does D look weird?"

I say "I don't know...does he?"

he says "look on stage"

So I do...and see D's (tall boy) boxers coming out the bottom of the shorts while P (short boy) is drowning in his.

My answer to GOTT "OMG! Sorry!"

and then I fell on the floor laughing until they came off stage...and clamped my hand over D's mouth so he wouldn't yell at P for putting on his pants.

I separated their changing areas at intermission...and it never happened again.

So you see, wardrobe malfunctions happen (especially when working with 14 year olds) but no one has seen a nipple.

Although my hands have almost made it beyond the curtain as I zip someone up.

And I have stripped many a young man (since I can't let an 8th grade girl help a boy to change clothes and the boys usually won't help another dude), and I have even put tights on a boy (who informed me that his mama said that he was just to think of me as his extra mama and he does), and I have laced up bodices until my nails break. And I love it and I love the kids.

I've worked with GOTT on 15 shows as costumer...and an additional show as his asst. director. I will do it until he throws me out the door or fires me...but it is hard to fire someone who is not paid so he will just have to toss me.

So tomorrow we embark on number 16. And I will dress the kids up and get paid in hugs and kisses and children who years later will scream my name from across the room and come running.

It's a pretty good way to make a living...

Inspiration Song: "Dress You Up" by Madonna

bye darlings...

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Hot Child in the City

Today Ke$ha Barbie had her first day as a Junior in high school. I have 2 more years with her and then she is gone gone gone. I feel like it was yesterday when I sent her off for her first day of first grade.

I saw my neighbor today who told me she kissed her son goodbye early this morning and sent him off (with his father) to LSU where he will be a freshman. I remember him in elementary school and now he is gone gone gone.

It is bittersweet..

So I was really happy today that I got to be occupied doing some training at my son's school where I (sometimes) substitute teach and volunteer (a lot). It was CPR/First Aid training followed by substitute teacher training. I sat with GOTT in case I feel asleep because I knew he would let me snooze on his shoulder. I stole his blanket from backstage and wrapped up (the room was FREEZING) and we managed not to be too distruptive to the proceedings. Normally when I watch something with GOTT we are little like the cranky old men in the balcony on "The Muppet Show"...

We behaved...and I didn't fall alseep.

I was worried I would be dead to the world by 10:00 since I woke up at 5:00 and hit the gym by 6:00 and burned through 750 calories on the Arc Trainer in 45 minutes and headed home to take the fastest shower/blow dry/make-up job on record (for me).

People, I don't "do" mornings so going to the gym at 6:00 was HUGE for me...

I was up at the school yesterday to work a bit with GOTT and TTG so I saw a few of my teacher friends and the headmaster. I got a lot of compliments on my weight loss (30 lbs down from the last time most of them saw me...62 total) and it was a great feeling.

So today I got even more compliments and I was in danger of thinking I really must look good...or I looked that awful before...

One friend admitted to me that he almost walked right by me before he realized that it was indeed me standing there. I forgive him for having to do a double-take...and told him to keep the compliments coming...I need lots of positive reinforcement. To borrow a line from "Glee"---"I am Tinkerbell...I need applause to live". And then I told him to get ready to clap a lot because I wasn't done...he promises to do so often...

Another friend (who once was quite overweight himself) didn't say anything until I called him on it by saying "I have been standing in front of you for 5 minutes and you haven't said a word about how I look"...I told him that above all he should understand having lost a great deal of weight himself. He said I looked really good. I forgave him...

My friend, Sistah, who is one of my biggest supporters, spread the word about my loss and several friends approached me by saying "Sistah told us you looked great"...I love my Sistah...

The principal hugged me twice and told me I looked "like a hot chick" (she's been super supportive)...and then she teased me it won't be long before I have to show up in her office in my cheetah print miniskirt...that will take a good bit of courage...

Up until recently, the only way "hot" ever applied to me is the temperature. I'm not "hot" yet, but it was very sweet of her to say so.

And then I have GOTT and TTG who give me lots of love and support and positive affirmation...everytime GOTT calls me "The Shrinking Woman" I give him a hug of thanks...and TTG makes me stay on my program all the time...They are like wonderful brothers to me...

To top it off, while the headmaster was addressing the faculty and substitute teachers she announced that I worked enough at the school to earn a faculty shirt (yea! but I really want a parking spot...)and then proceeded to announce JUST HOW MUCH WEIGHT I HAD LOST...I was a bit embarrassed, especially having it announced that I had lost over 60 pounds since March...that sounds like soooooooo much and I am still not a fit and trim little tiny thing and it is obvious I still have a ways to go. But in any case I love her support and the applause from my teacher friends did feel great.

I did a little curtsy anyway...

So the last couple of days have felt really really good...because I was almost feeling like I was just treading water instead of swimming this big course I set myself. I have a long way to go but it was good to see that through the eyes of others I have come so far...

It made me realize how lucky I am to have friends who love and support me so much...some afraid to even say anything lest they hurt my feelings by saying "wow, you have really lost some weight"...I told one of those friends to NOT be afraid to say anything because I know just how bad off I was. I have worked hard to get where I am today and I appreciate the acknowledgement of it because it hasn't been easy.

Sometimes I wonder if it would have been quicker or easier had I gone the route my doctor suggested and gotten the gastric band. But from what I have read about banding, they have mountains to climb as well and it is no picnie or magic bullet. I applaud anyone who goes that route...it is no qick fix. I just know in my case I had to give willpower and trying to eat "clean" a try. Those who have a band have to limit and change their diet as well, but I wanted to see if I could do it without surgery first. And food is just part of it...whether you are banded or just trying to say "no" to cupcakes, you have to excersise to help it along.

Getting weight off is hard hard hard...no matter how you do it...

And working out is hard hard hard no matter what form of exercise you choose to do.

I am surprised to say that I do enjoy my time at the gym...it is an hour or two that is just for me and I need to take it and do it. I give a lot to others and spend a lot of time taking care of others and helping others...but that time is just for me me me...so I sweat sweat sweat (it actually feels good) and burn burn burn the calories and think about the pretty dresses I want to wear next spring.

I bought some new workout clothes...sort of a reward, sort of incentive...but mostly because I may have to occasionally help GOTT and TTG out in the morning before I workout and don't want to look like a total hot mess of fat chick going to the gym. And it will feel good putting on some new things for the gym that aren't a tent over some big pants.

During the CPR class I told GOTT that my father had to have a defibrillator implanted when he was not even 60 and died having bypass surgery (he knew the bypass part) and it was one of my big motivations for getting in shape. I don't want to be my dad. I want to live past 60. I don't want a difibrillator.

I'm almost halfway to my goal weight. I was feeling like I was looking only "better" not "good" but today made me feel great...and feeling great on the inside, because you know you are loved and cared for as well as being healthier, is so much better than just looking good...

But it doesn't hurt to be called "hot" or "gorgeous" either...

And today, I felt it all...loved, cared for, and....hot...in the BEST sense of the word...

Inspriration music: "Hot Child in the City" by Nick Gilder...come on, when is the last time you played THAT on your iPod?

Bye Darlings...

Monday, August 16, 2010

Help!

I finished a book the other day and found myself sobbing as I came to the end.

I'm pretty emotional, as you all well know...I cry at the drop of a hat or a kleenex commercial. I cry at plays, I cry during tv shows (Glee gets me all the time), I cry at movies (my son was nonplussed that I was sobbing at the end of Toy Story 3), I cry during choir concerts, I have even been known to cry when admiring art...heck, I even cried a few times during the latest "So You Think You Can Dance" competition during some of the beautifully choreographed dances. When a friend called to tell me her daughter just pledged Pi Phi and I cried because now that beautiful child will be my "sister"...I cry a lot...

But I don't cry a lot when I read...a few books have moved me to tears..."Pillars of the Earth" did. I cried when I read "Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood" because I saw a lot of my life there. "The Lovely Bones"..."Auntie Mame"...and I laugh until I cry when I read the Sweet Potato Queen books...

But the other day, when I got to the end of "The Help", I found myself sobbing...just sobbing. It really is a beautiful book...and it was a very very very satisfactory read. I highly recommend it.

It is a book about a young white woman and 2 black maids and their lives in the 60's at the time when segregation was still going strong in the south. It is a very frank and honest book and I don't doubt for a minute that the horrible forms of prejudice portrayed and talked about in the book existed at that time.

What got me sobbing?

2 things:

1) I will never never never understand prejudice. I don't get it. I do not understand how one human being can think they are better or superior to another because of the color of their skin...or because of their religion...or because of their sex...and yes, we have been down this road before---because of who they chose to love.

and

2)I was reminded of the women and men who helped raise me and how lucky I was to be loved by them...Matilda...Chale..Nick...Ginje...Tommy...and N (he is still alive, so no real names) and L (she is still alive...same rules)and how much I missed the ones who died and how I am so happy that L and N are still around and I am always so glad to see them and hear them call me "Nicie" and what I wouldn't give right now for any one of them to tell me what to do...

Matilda and Chale were married. They were never able to have a family of their own so we were their kids. Chale grew up with my father...he liked to joke that since he and Daddy practically shared a birthday that they had bee switched at birth. There isn't a person in this world who knew us as a family that wouldn't absolutely agree that Tilda (Matilda) and Chale were family. Every holiday they were at the house to watch us unwrap gifts, or have some turkey, or help us dye eggs before we headed off to Premont. Chale would make an excuse to come but my dad caught on to the ruse early on and told him to just come. We were family.

I spent most of my younger years in Chale's truck. I would ride sitting on the door armrest of the truck and my sister would stand next to him---so close that he really drove with his arm around her legs. We went everywhere in Chale's truck...Tejano music blaring as we went down the road...

Chale drove the carpool. He knew all the moms at school. They all loved him. How could you not love him...he was amazing...

Tilda, his wife, taught me to cook. She taught me to sew. She taught me that warm Campho-phenique can cure almost anything. She taught me to drink lemon and honey tea when I felt bad...no matter what ailed me from menstrual cramps to a sore throat to a tummy ache. She taught me to be a better person.

Ginje and Tommy took care of me when I was little. I have precious pictures of me in their arms. I can still feel their kisses...

N and L were married when I was younger. N worked as my dad's right hand man...they were partners in crime and in all things good and evil and my dad didn't get through many days without N at his side. They rode together in the car and on horses. They worked cattle together. They drank coffee and had breakfast together. They won championships together.

I still remember the first time I met N...he started working for my dad just as we came home from a ski trip---where I had hurt myself and was on crutches. I was expecting Nick (who until then had been my dad's right hand) but instead this devestatingly handsome guy comes climbing onto the plane to get me and carry me out and into the car. I said "you're not Nick" and he said "No, I am N" and from that point on I was "Nicie" and it was love forever...and still is...his son was my brother's best friend...his daughter like a sister and playmate...younger than me so she was like a beautiful doll to play with...

L woke me up every morning...she would throw off my covers and holler at me to get up and get going. She was the best alarm clock in the world. As I grew up she became my confidante and keeper of my secrets. She dried a lot of tears...lots and lots of tears...

I cannot imagine my life without these people. Tilda's passing crippled me...and Chale's passing this past year sent me into my bed with hours of tears...still can't talk about it...so I won't...

My parents were good parents, but it was Chale, Tilda, N, and L who raised me. I give them more credit than my own folks in some ways because they carted me around and taught me things.

I am a lucky woman...I was loved by some of the best people in the world...

And everyone who knows them feels the same way...

So as I read this book and read about how some people treated "the help" in their lives, it killed me.

I remember once I decided to get high handed with Chale. My father had instructed him to only speak Spanish to us so we would be bilingual. My daddy's first and primary language was Spanish so he wanted us to speak it as well. That plan backfired because he didn't realize that his oldest child (me) was as stubborn as a mule...and him (the stubbornest man ever born). I didn't want to speak Spanish (boy was I stupid).

So one day I wanted an Icee. I asked Chale if we could go get an Icee. I must have been about 4. He told me to ask him in Spanish...I understood the Spanish, just didn't want to speak it...

From what I was told, because I don't fully remember the incident, I then answered him with the following:
"Shut up you stupid Mexican and get me an Icee"

(as I write this I am shuddering at the thought I ever ever ever spoke to him or anyone else that way)

Now, I don't remember saying that, but if Chale says I did...well, then I did...

What I do remember is the beating with the belt I got from my dad for saying that to Chale and how I never did it again...and am horrified that I even tried it once.

I still cannot believe those words left my mouth...but apparently they did...and it rocks me to my core that I ever said anything that awful to him. Even if I was 4.

I learned early on that the men and women who worked for us were not the lucky ones...we were the lucky ones that they worked for us because we were lucky to have them in our lives. They didn't deserve us...and we certainly didn't deserve their love and grace and teaching but were blessed to get it.

Tilda and Chale lived in a tiny one bedroom house when I was little. It was the best house in the world. And Tilda made the best food in the world. No one's empanadas, carne guisada, pollo con calabasas, tamales, 7 Up Cake, hummingbird cake, or pan de polvo (except I do recall that L makes some really good pan de polvo too) can compare. Chale made the best frijole beans, jerky, and pan de campo (camp bread). None better.

L would watch me burn up things in the kitchen and then teach me how to clean up the pans and she would cover up the devestation (hide it from my parents) for me. My mom also taught me to cook but Tilda and L were instrumental in my culinary education. I am a good cook because of those women...and Chale...

They weren't "the help"...they are family...

So just to overload on social injustice I have started to read "Same Kind of Different as Me"...what an awesome book. Also about what ignorance and prejudice can do to a life...

I just don't get prejudice...I cannot believe anyone ever thought it was ok to make someone use a seperate restroom, or not be able to eat in a restaurant, or drink from a water fountain. It makes me crazy to think about it...and ashamed of the human race for ever allowing it to happen.

Skin color is only a color...just like hair color...

Like I said before I would hate for someone to discount me as a person because I am blonde...

The "Help" in my life has been enormous. And I'm not just talking about the people who loved, cared for, and raised me.

Lately I have had a lot of help in my weight loss journey.

Fitness Goddess motivates me every time she sees me. She is amazing in her support and care. I highly recommend having a fitness goddess of your own in your corner...and it helps if she/he is a trainer.

Spinderella and Spingirl (my other favorite spin teacher) are my reason for getting out of bed some mornings...

GOTT and TTG are big helpers...maybe because I help them...but it never hurts to have 2 incredibly good looking sweet men who are literally like brothers to you to cheer you on...remember my motto of "I am like Tinkerbell...I need applause to live"? Well, their hands must be soooo tired from all the clapping I have demanded of them but they keep going...I love them as much as any woman can love two men who are not related to her or her husband...

JayVee, a name that will only make sense to HRC members, is the group fitness director at the gym. She is gorgeousness and been in the fitness business long enough to laugh with me when we remember Body Rock Houston and doing donkey kicks while wearing thong leotards. Of course she was only 2 when she was teaching there... JayVee has been cheering me on and supporting me and today gave me an ultra compliment when she asked my opinion on some class times BECAUSE SHE IS ADDING SOME MORE SPIN CLASSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Woo-hoo! I might get to spin 4 days a week now!!!!!! I like my elliptical and my arc trainer but the spin bike is truly my happy place so that is mega good news.

JayVee is teaching a class tomorrow that I am going to try...body pump...I'll let you know how it goes...

Sistah has been so supportive I don't even know how to express it. I know she loves me and prays for me (Sistah is a good one to have in your prayer corner) and comes with me to classes and motivates me so much. I was so deeply touched when I heard from friends that she was bragging on me that I cried. Now if I could only get her gorgeous long legs on my stubby frame...and her ability to play sports...Sistah reads this so I can give her a shout-out and tell her I love her...like a Sistah...

And some of the greatest help of all has been you...my friends and readers of this blog. Your support and words of encouragement have meant the world to me. Everytime one of you becomes an official "follower" of this blog or you tell me via facebook or when I see you that you read this and are following me on this journey to become half of myself, I am deeply deeply deeply touched.

The fact that any of you want to read the ravings of a mad fat woman is a mystery to me but as long as you want to read, I will write...because it is way cheaper to do this than to pay a therapist...and this is therapy for me.

So thank you for the help...I truly love and appreciate it...

Inspiration song: "Help" by the one, the only...the BEATLES...

The lyrics pretty much sum up how I feel...although when I was younger I DID need the help I got...and right now I am not down but I have been down in the past and again you all have helped me get through it...

Here are the words...thank you Lennon & McCartney

Help, I need somebody,
Help, not just anybody,
Help, you know I need someone, help.

When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.

Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won't you please, please help me?

And now my life has changed in oh so many ways,
My independence seems to vanish in the haze.
But every now and then I feel so insecure,
I know that I just need you like I've never done before.

Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won't you please, please help me.

When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.

Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won't you please, please help me, help me, help me, oh.


Bye Darlings...

Sunday, August 15, 2010

The Name of the Game


Are you ready for some football?

Nope

Not me

Not yet

Because I am not not not ready for summer to be over and to get back to the grind of school. And I am not ready to give up my lazy mornings. And I am not ready to give up happy children (because they don't have homeowork). And I am not ready to give up evenings in the pool, on a Monday...

And I'm most certainly not ready to watch my son get himself almost maimed on the football field again.

I stay behind my camera and shoot tons and tons of pictures while the games go on. It takes my mind off the fact that my son is going up against boys who are sometimes twice his size. I usually shoot over 800 photos in a game...I just put the camera on sports mode and hold down the shutter release. Sometimes I get something great, sometimes...not so much...

As you can see from the photo, which I like to call "David vs. Goliath", and my son being "David" in this case, that often times he takes on much bigger boys.

He plays offense and defense. He is a starter...first among the boys on the field...coach says he is definitely one of his very best players.

But I still worry...that's my little man out there...and The Cutest Boy in the World (TCBITW) could get hurt out there on that field...

Saturday his team had a scrimmage. When I tell you it was hotter than the devil in hell out there, I mean it...because hell doesn't have the humidity that Houston does. The scrimmage was from 10 am until after 12. It was hot hot hot. And humid humid humid. The sweat was rolling off of all of us...and we weren't the boys in football pads and pants!

I would have sweated less in the spin class I had to miss for the scrimmage. I needed that spin class...and sadly one of my favorite instructors was teaching. My weight has not budged much lately despite cardio every day and good eating.

I tell myself I am gaining muscle...which we all know weighs more than fat...and my clothes continue to get looser and I am getting into things I haven't worn for 5 years...

So back to football...

I was a little worried about this season. You see, I had a little run-in with one of the coaches last spring and I wasn't sure if he was going to get over it (and if I could get over it) and if we could move on without anything affecting my son...

What happened was that my son was playing lacrosse and one of his teammates hit him in the head hard enough to knock him down onto the ground. Let me repeat---he hit him in the head. His own teammate. During practice.

The lacrosse (LAX) coach didn't see it. But, the football coach, who I will refer to as Coach L, did see it. He wasn't on the LAX field but he could see it from where he was standing.

Coach L is on the staff of the school

Coach L DID NOT TELL THE LAX COACH WHAT HE SAW

So I am substitute teaching at the school that day and I go looking for my boy. I though perhaps practice was cancelled because it was raining.

I run into Coach L and Coach S (another poor innocent bystander) and Coach L sees I am looking for TCBITW. He (Coach L) knows me pretty well.

So he tells me, and I am quoting him here:
"Kid X (no names) just hit TCBITW so hard in the back of his head with his LAX stick that he knocked him over. It was a pretty nasty hit, even by LAX standards"

I ask: so you saw this?

Coach L: yes

Me: And did you tell the LAX coach?

Coach L: no

And that, my friends, is when I grew horns, a tail, and some pretty big claws.

I said: so you mean to tell me that you witnessed Kid X hit my son, his teammate, for no good reason, and it wasn't an accident but appeared to be an INTENTIONAL hit in the BACK OF HIS HEAD SO HARD IT KNOCKED HIM OFF OF HIS FEET and you DID NOTHING?

Coach L: yes

me: you OWE it to the children of this school, as a coach, hell, as an ADULT to report when one child abuses another child and you witness it and can tell it is abuse or bullying.

Coach L: ummm...

At this point the other poor guy standing there, Coach S, has stepped back several feet and is looking at me like fire might start shooting from my fingertips.

I was very very very mad...

me: so you didn't tell anyone that this kid, who has been known to abuse his teammates, once again hit one of his "friends" out on the field?

Coach L: ummm...

I walked away in disgust...

My son finished practice and found me an informed me that Kid X not only hit him really hard in the back of the head (thank goodness for helmets)but he (Kid X) walked into the locker room bragging about how he "owned" my son...and was proud of it.

When we got home my husband informed my son that the next time this kid hit him (he did it a few times in football practice), he was to BREAK HIS STICK OVER HIS F'ing HEAD

And then he fired off an email to the headmaster, principal, dean of student, athletic director, and all of the LAX coaches.

My friend, Precious and Adorable History Teacher (and LAX coach...but not my son's team) informed me the next day that he could hear the screaming in the email. Sadly he had gone home sick that day or some very serious discipline would have happened as he took great care to watch over the 6th grade boys (since they were his students) as well as his own team. He gets it...he is an adult and shepherd of these kids...he takes it seriously...that is why he is precious and adorable...

So Coach L gets called on the carpet for not reporting...and I know that he isn't exactly happy with me for making a stink about it...

Coach L is the assistant coach for my son's football team this year...

We are getting along fine but I think he wishes he had a restraining order against me.

Precious and Adorable History Teacher emailed me the other day and asked why he hadn't heard from me as we were 5 days into football season and he had expected to get all the scoop from me. He will be coaching 6th grade football. He was afraid that I had killed a coach and was on the lam since he hadn't heard from me...he knows me pretty well...

I told him I wasn't on the lam but the jury was still out on whether or not the coaches got through the season unmaimed by the witch known as me...

I finally met the head coach the other day after the scrimmage. He also looked at me like I had horns and a tail and very long sharp claws...I think Coach L told him that I am the SCARY mom...the one who eats coaches for lunch...to keep his distance...because Coach L still looks at me like at any moment I might turn into a dragon...or vampire...

My friend, Sistah, came and watched and made sure I behaved...she was proud of me...

But I must say I like having them a little afraid of me...

But really, was I wrong? I mean, if you are an adult and you see a kid abuse another kid, shouldn't you tell the person in charge of those children that they missed seeing something WRONG?

This is part of my trouble with some of these sports and some of these coaches...it is not that they all need to "take it like a man". I get it...it is a contact sport. But you shouldn't allow a child to abuse his teammates just because he wants to be a hot-head...

Thank you for letting me vent...

Now here is my game...or game plan...

I'm going to ignore the scale for a bit...and quit letting it rule my life. I will still weigh myself for my "lose it" application on my i-Phone. I need it to keep track of things with that, but I'm not going to let it spoil my day---especially when I START my day on the scale. I'm letting numbers get to me and I shouldn't.

I know I am doing what I should do. I am keeping track of my calories (really friends...that "lose it" app is a good one if you are dieting) and I am excersing (hard) every day. I burn through a minimum of 700 calories every day at the gym...more most days. I'm doing my strength training and lifting weights. I eat "clean". I'm working my program. I don't have "cheat days" on my food and I only skip a day at the gym about once every 2 weeks...and even then it is because I am active in some other way.

But what is making me happy and feel better is HOW MUCH BETTER I FEEL now that I have some weight off.

And I love the support and compliments I have been getting, especially from my friends who haven't seen me over the summer.

I am down 60 pounds...

That's a lot in 5 1/2 months!

And I can fit into clothes that I haven't worn since Ke$ha Barbie was in the 5th or 6the grade...she is a Junior in high school this year....

My son has his game...football...I will watch and love and support him...and I will try not to have the coaches want to get a restraining order against me and I won't tear into them with my claws...maybe...

I have my game...lose weight, get fit, improve my cholesterol levels, lower my blood pressure, help my heart. I will do it with spin classes, the elliptical machine, the Cybex Arc Trainer (I have learned to love that machine!) and with weights. I might even learn to like the dreaded Bosu ball.

And I will be a healthy woman...

That's the name of the game...

Inspiration music: "The Name of the Game" by ABBA...or the Mama Mia Soundtrack version...I have both on my iPod...

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Goody Two Shoes

I bought new shoes yesterday (Sunday).

I bought new shoes Saturday.

Saturday's purchase was a cute pair of wedge heels in bronze...now that I have dropped some weight I like the wedge heel...makes me taller, makes my legs look slimmer, and most importantly, I can actually walk in them and stand around in them. I can get through a party in wedge heels (I did so on Thursday night).

Yesterday's purchase: new workout shoes

Lovely new turquoise and silver and white shoes. They fit. They have support. That is uber-important...

I walked out of the store in them and headed straight to the gym to workout. They were great.

I figure I had logged about 140-150 hours in the old pair so it was time to retire them to "shoes to wear in the mud" and have a new pair for the gym.

I'm such a girl...I love shoes...I have more shoes than I will ever need but every time I purchase a new pair I am excited. It's a rush...

I don't buy expensive shoes...spending more than $100 on a pair makes me really sweat, but for some reason I can buy 4 pair of $50 shoes and not think twice about it.

Don't get me wrong...I could totally go all "Carrie in Sex in the City" and would build a shrine to my Manolos and Louboutins if I owned them, but I don't. I would really love to own a pair of black Christian Louboutin pumps...stilletos...that fabulous red sole on the bottom...but for me, $500 for a pair of shoes is not something I can do. I don't think I have ever spent more than $200 (it was a pair of boots...very fancy cowboy boots)...so I think I would have a heart attack if I ever shelled out $500 or more for a pair of shoes.

Not judging here if you do spend $$$ on shoes...I just can't bring myself to do it...but I would love to be the kind of woman who COULD do it...

Heck, I wouldn't even shell out $195 for a pair of Tory Burch flats...

Once we had our 8th graders at the school do "Diary of Anne Frank" for one-act play competition. I costumed the show. I asked the girls who played Mrs. Frank and Mrs. Van Daan to bring in some dark colored low-heeled pumps to wear. The girl playing Mrs. Van Daan showed up to rehearsal with some beautiful black pumps. With bright red soles. I know what those soles meant. GOTT and TTG did not.

So GOTT says "the red soles on her shoes are distracting..."

TTG says "I'll ask her if I can use a black magic marker or sharpie to cover it up"

I all but screamed....

Once I caught my breath I told them to let me handle it...

So after rehearsal I ask the young girl wearing the red-soled shoes if they belonged to her mommy. She said that they did but were "old" so she could wear them. I told her that GOTT and TTG wanted to cover up the red soles.

She looked horrified.

I looked horrified at the thought of it back at her...and felt her pain...but then explained that at the very last second possible TTG was going to use a little black tape on the soles and we would take it off right away and the shoes should be none the worse for it.

She agreed...

After she left rehearsal I explained to GOTT and TTG (who both have shoe-loving wives who are practical like me...even though I think any of us would covet those shoes) that the following week, when I was subbing for GOTT, I would not make enough money to purchase those shoes...those beautiful Louboutins...and they were just fine when we took the tape off...and I held them for a second and really wanted to try them on but controlled myself...

I'm cheap with purses too...I see all kinds of Coach handbags that I would love to have...and some Michael Kors ones too...but I get to the $300 price tag and don't feel worth it...

So I have decided that when I get to "move the bar" on the scale again I am going to buy a new purse or a REALLY nice pair of shoes (but not Louboutins...but maybe a pair of Tory Burch flats)...it will be my reward. I don't want to buy clothes now because I am going to "move the bar" 2 more times before I am happy...

My mother had a shoe obsession too...I guess that is where I get it. She wore a 9 1/2 or 10...I cannot wear her shoes...and I so longed to...and I wish I could wear them now just so I could put them on and feel a little "Debbie magic" when I wear them...then I could be, as my sister N and I referred to her as "Fabulous Debbie"...

I have my Daddy's feet...very wide. Daddy wore something really crazy like an 8 1/2 EEE...maybe even a EEEE...very fat feet. He was slightly pigeon-toed from having polio as a child...and funny arches...and his feet weren't just wide ACROSS, they were kind of "tall" if you know what I mean...his feet were short but LARGE.

Daddy very rarely could ever purchase shoes in a store. Most of the time he had to have things custom-made because of how his feet were. All of his boots were made for him. Once we were at a store and he tried on a pair of loafers and they fit. He literally cried. And then he bought every pair they had like them in his size.

Daddy rarely wore shoes...his lived in cowboy boots...but every once in a while he would put on some shoes...

When I got married he went to the tux store to rent the tails I was requiring him and the wedding party to wear. I was getting married at 8:00 PM in an Episcopal Church and I had me a very long train so all the men were going to have to endure white tie and tails. So Daddy, even though he had a perfectly good tux, had to rent the tails. So he and my brothers go to Al's Formal Wear to rent what I had selected. Thank goodness my stepmother was with them or I think mutiny would have happened. Because once he was there, and being fitted for the tails, the salesman asked him what shoes he would be wearing...

Daddy says: "Boots"

Salesman says: "you cannot wear boots with white tie and tails"

Daddy says" "in Texas I can..."

Salesman says:"I have some nice formal shoes we can get you"

Daddy says:"no, I am wearing boots"

Salesman says:"what about your sons?"

Daddy says: "boots"

Salesman says: "I think we need to discuss this with the bride"

Daddy says: "I'll call her" (since this was the dark ages before cell phones he called me at my mother's house)

Daddy calls me and says "tell this man that I am wearing boots to your wedding"

I say "well, hello Daddy! what is going on?"

Daddy says: "I am wearing boots to walk you down the aisle or I will be barefoot...tell the salesman!!!!"

I got on the phone with the salesman and explained that my father and brother would be wearing cowboy boots. Period.

Salesman says: "well, I hope they are at least BLACK boots..."

Daddy walked me down the aisle in a beautiful pair of black eel skin boots...he looked very elegant...so did my brothers in their boots...

Some day I will tell you the story of me and Daddy and my wedding dress and the shop ladies at Neiman's....but today is about shoes, not dresses...

When Daddy died we decided he needed to be buried in his most special boots. My stepmother gave me his elephant hide boots to take to the mortuary. Those boots were made from the hide of an elephant that my father shot in Africa...the elephant was old and sick and needed to be put down so they (the game keepers) allowed my father to shoot it and keep the hide and tusk...this was back in the 60's...rules have changed....but it was not an easy thing for my father to do even though he loved to hunt. He treasured those boots.

So I take the boots to the funeral home and hand them to the funeral director. He asks me what he is supposed to do with the boots. I told him to get them on my father's feet.

He tells me "Anice, I knew your dad and I have seen those feet...I'm not sure I can get them on his fat feet and this is elephant hide..."...

I informed the mortician that I knew he had all kinds of tools back in the area where they prep the bodies and that I didn't care what he had to do to get them on those feet (short of cutting my father's body), but those damn boots better be on this feet when I came back the next day.

The boots were on his feet.

I never asked how...

I don't want to know...

I just know that I buried my Daddy with his boots on...the only proper way for a man such as him to be buried...along with some chile petin's in his pocket...

I buried my mommy in her most beautiful cream suit, her fake hair switch on her head, her favorite lipgloss on her lips, and the pretties pair of pumps she owned...they were Manolos...

I know she was proud of me for making sure I sent her to heaven looking her best...and I didn't think twice that I buried her in some very expensive shoes...because she was, after all---Fabulous Debbie...

I wrote this without shedding a tear...only smiling...I think my parents are proud of me...OK, now I am crying...

Inspiration music: "Goody Two Shoes" by Adam Ant...so fun...

bye darlings...

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Moth's Wings

The Cutest Boy in the World (TCBITW) came back from his friend's ranch last night...they called it "Camp for Wayward Boys"...2 men took 8 boys (12, 13, and 14 years old) to the ranch in Colorado and put them to work...they unloaded hay, sprayed weeds, learned to use heavy farm equipment...but they also fly-fished, kayaked, attended a rodeo (where they were unsuccessful in the calf scramble) and had fun on an alpine slide (a luge---but in the summer with no snow, you ride a sled-thing).

And then they pulled a rather nasty joke on them and staged a very elaborate prank wherein they convinced 7 of the boys that the host boy had been attacked by a bear. They even used fake blood. The boy screamed in a convincing manner. The dad even managed to rustle up some tears to convince the duped children that his son had been carried off by the bear. And then they let them in on the joke. I think it was pretty funny and amazed that they pulled it off. Photos of the boys an hour later show that they weren't amused...or forgiving...

But despite the fake bear attack, they had a marvelous time.

I think we need "Camp for overworked Mommies"...that would involve luxurious massages and a lot of wine...but hey, a girl can dream...

TCBITW insists that despite the fake bear attack, he had as good a time as he did at camp. That is high praise, my friends, as he thinks that Camp LaJunta is heaven on earth. He didn't even mind working...says it was good for him and his friends.

Tomorow football pre-season begins. It's not going to be all that hot in Houston from 5-8 in the evening, right?

I'm not sure there will be enough Gatorade to re-hydrate my son after that. Practicing in full pads...

I know that this barbaric practice has gone on since the beginning of football times, but my kid is only 12...but he loves it and is soooooo excited for it to start.

Now as for SCHOOL starting...well, that is another can of worms...

I will readily admit, when I found out I was having a boy, I was crushed. I didn't want a boy. I like girl things. I like pink. I like ruffles. I like bows. I like perfume and makeup and fashion. I don't like sports. I don't like smelly boys. I had 2 brothers..I know boys. But there, on the ultrasound, was an unmistakable appendage that marked my unborn child as a boy. And I had to accept it.

Now, as I am on the other side of smocked dresses and socks with ruffles, I am so grateful to God for giving me a son and not another girl. I was not cut out to handle more than one female. God knew I needed a little boy in my life and that one girl was more than enough for me to handle.

So I learned to accept the sounds that boys make (helicopter noises, fart noises, armpit noises) and that they need to comment on their bodily functions. And that they smell.

And I have learned to enjoy WATCHING my son play sports. I still do not enjoy watching sports on television, but put me in the stands of a child's game and I am a fan.

God also knew what he was doing when he gave me the sweet soul that is TCBITW. He gifted me with a child that is sweet, sensitive, funny, and charming. He is perfect for me...the perfect little boy for me...

TCBITW is a funny little guy. He has a great sense of humor. He makes great observations...

Once, while fishing, he caught a skipjack. Skipjacks put up a fun fight and flip about as you are reeling them in. They are not good eating. TCBITW was about 6 when he caught one and asked "Daddy, can you eat a skipjack?". Daddy told him "no".

TCBITW says "too bad...then you would have dinner AND a show when you catch one..."

When TCBITW was in Pre-kindergarten (and his sister was in the 2nd grade) we were fortunate enough to get to spend a month in South Africa. My brother and his beautiful wife (my adored Sister-in-law, who I will refer to as SIL in today's blog...she deserves a better name and I must come up with one....maybe "She Who Has the Patience of a Saint for putting up with our family"? I will stick to SIL for now) lived there. SIL's father works in South Africa, but they are from Texas (my brother was no dummy---he didn't just find a pretty girl, he found a beautiful TEXAS girl). So SIL, my brother and her father have a ranch a few hours outside of Johannesburg and it is truly heaven on earth.

So we go to South Africa and have an amazing time. I have great stories, but that is for another blog...but I will share one with you today...

We were in South Africa (SA) for the Christmas holidays. We stayed at the ranch for a couple of weeks with plans to head to the coast after Christmas. The set-up at the ranch is wonderful...a main house with an attached dining room that has one wall of folding glass doors that you can open up to basically remove a wall from the room. All under a thatched roof. A "boma" that is a party room/bar/pool house to enjoy cocktails and games in. Guest chalets that are 5-star accomodations.

We LOVED our meals in the dining room. They had a chef who made the most amazing food. I lived in the kitchen and watched him work and the dear man shared his wonderful recipes with me. Dinner was always spectacular.

One night, as we were eating, moths began to gather in the dining room. There were always a few flying bugs but it was never a real problem. And the moths weren't bothering anyone.

It was summer.

Summer = bugs

no big deal...

now if these had been cockroaches, it would have been a different story.

I don't know why the moths flew in but there were a lot of them...way more than usual and just a lot. They were all gathering on the ceiling.

SIL and I decided that maybe since there was no moon, they were attracted to the lights in the dining room. After dinner we turned off the lights and got out a big flashlight. Some/most of the moths flew out. We didn't worry about the others.

A day or two later we traveled to Johannesburg and were staying at a hotel. We were out enjoying the pool. I could see my son talking animatedly to my mother and my SIL. They looked bemused. And then they looked like they were about to bust out laughing.

My mother walks over to me with tears streaming down her face...she is literally laughing so hard she is crying. She then tells me what my son was saying. Here is a rough transcript.

Oh, and you need to know that he called her "Nona"...so Nona is my mother...and TCBITW was 4 years 9 months old...

TCBITW: Nona, I am a little worried about the mops.

Nona: what mops?

TCBITW: the mops in the dining room!

Nona: what mops in the dining room?

TCBITW: the mops in the dining room! I'm afraid they will make cahoons!!!

Nona: cahoons?

TCBITW: yes, cahoons! Mops make cahoons!

Nona: mops make cahoons?

TCBITW: yes, Nona, mops will make cahoons if you leave them in the dining room for too long! We should have gotten all the mops out before they make cahoons

Nona: so the mops in the dining room are going to make cahoons?

TCBITW: yes, Nona! Mops and bufflies make cahoons! That is how they become mops and bufflies. They make CAHOONS! When we go back to the ranch there will be cahoons all over the place in the dining room!!!!! Mommy and Auntie W (SIL) tried to get them out with the flashlight but it didn't work!!!! Now we will have mops and cahoons everywhere!!!!

Nona: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH! MOTHS and BUTTERFLIES make CACOONS!

TCBITW: yes, Nona, mops and bufflies make cahoons!

At that point he became exasperated with her and SIL and left them.

I cannot look at a moth without thinking about that story.

And no, we did not have cahoons, er, cacoons all over the dining room. And no mops either...

Inspiration Song: "Moth's Wings" by Passion Pit. Every time I hear that song I think of the mops and cahoons and our lovely dinners in the dining room under the thatched roof and how blessed we were to spend time in such an amazing place.

I'm going to have dinner with TCBITW and let him tell me some more camp for wayward boys stories...there might be another blog in there...

bye darlings...

Monday, August 2, 2010

Sweet Escape

Cupcakes are my kryptonite...

I am powerless against them...but only the really good gourment fancy-cupcake-store kind. I can walk right on by the grocery store variety...but if it is a cupcake from a bakery, I am weak. I have no strength to say no. I'm like an addict.

I'd forgotten that there is another substance in this world that I also have no ability to say "no" to:

CHOCOLATE MOUSSE

I love love love chocolate mousse...

so much so that I have actual memories tied to chocolate mousse...

Like the first time I ever ate it. My dad had taken me, my mom, my sister S, my sister N, and my brother B up to Washington DC to see the sights. We flew up and arrived late in the evening but early enough for dessert. My father ordered 2 of everything on the menu.

When it arrived, I was intrigued by the stuff called "mouse" (I thought it was mouse, like the rodent...my father corrected me to "moose"). It came in a bowl set inside another bowl surrounded by ice. We had a wonderful hotel suite...with a big window with a view of the city and monuments. I am fuzzy as to whether it was the Capitol or White House we could see, but I remember looking upon it. Daddy and I pulled up chairs in front of the window and ate our mousse and looked at the beautiful lights of our amazing capitol city. The mousee was rich, chocolatey, velvety, and the best tasting thing I had ever had. I licked the bowl...

My mom got to be a pretty amazing chocolate mousse chef. She made a wicked mousse in the blender. It was all good until the night she was yelling at us for something and started the blender---without the lid on it. I don't remember how long it took to get it all off of the cabinets, but I remember my sister (I will not name which one) licking a cabinet when my mom announced she did not have enough ingredients to make another batch.

My favorite place to get chocolate mousse, now that I have lost my precious mommy, is Gaidos in Galveston. If I go there, I must get it...and I eat it all. It is truly one of the most glorious desserts in this world. And, like Crave cupcakes, I am powerless against it.

So Saturday night Hubby decides he wants to go eat at Gaidos. He is from Galveston and he really enjoys having dinner at Gaidos. For years we would drive to Galveston for the evening to take his mother to dinner at Gaidos. We would pack the kids in the car, and very often my mom too, and head to Galveston, pick up his mom, eat at Gaidos, take her back, and head home...and we always had the kids change into pajamas before we left the restaurant parking lot because they would pass out in the back on the way home. And yes, we always had chocolate mousse for dessert...

We lost his mother 2 months before we lost mine, but we always think of her when we go to Gaidos...

Hurricane Ike was hard on the island....Galveston is recovering but hasn't fully recovered and Gaidos has had to change because of it...but they still make the best chocolate mousse!

My aunt was down in Galveston, visiting her precious friend I call CAT (Cute And Tiny---you know, because she IS cute and tiny)and her friend Wonder Woman was also down for a visit.

I need to explain Wonder Woman. She EARNED that name. She IS Wonder Woman.

She had ovarian cancer. BAD ovarian cancer.

She kicked overian cancer's ASS (sorry for the curse word, but it is needed)...

She kicked ovarian cancer's ASS to the curb!

Wonder Woman, who has long been one of my favorite of my aunt's friends, continues to be the gorgeous, sexy, fabulous woman she was before the cancer...just even more so because...she kicked ovarian cancer's ASS...

So Wonder Woman is there---and I am so excited to see her because it has been years---and she has her sister and her gorgeous niece's with her (wish TCBITW had been with me...his eyes would have spun at the beauty of these girls) and CAT's brother and friends are there...well, you know it was a party...

So I had to bring wine...

And I had to drink the wine...

And CAT and Wonder Woman made some amazing shrimp kabobs...which we sampled...but hubby still wanted Gaidos so we saved room...for the chocolate mousse...

I had a great time with my aunt...she's the best person in the world so she has great friends...because she is the best person in the world...

A fun time was had by all and then we had to tear ourselves away to go to Gaidos...

But I wish I had stayed at CAT's house...because then I would have escaped the mousse episode...

Off to Gaidos we go...and they have soft shell crab...another weakness...

3 of them appear on my plate...pan-fried...perfect...sweet and yummy...I ate 2...and all of my veggies...

and then I had the mousse...it was heaven....

kryptonite...

but worth it....so worth it...

but as sweet as that mousse was, the REAL sweetness of the evening was spending time with my precious aunt (who is the best person in the world...in case I haven't told you that) and CAT, and CAT's brother and friends and the beautiful girls, and Wonder Woman...who kicked ovarian cancer in the ass...5 years and counting...and her sister of course...

because kryptonite can make your powerless...but love can make you conquer anything...even cancer...

So here's to my aunt...who is the best person in the world...

and CAT---who always opens her home and her heart to me...

and Wonder Woman---because I love her and she is HERE...after kicking ovarian cancer you-know-where!

and Gaidos...for giving me the best chocolate mousse...that was worth every calorie...and I worked it off the next day...all the while being happy that I am blessed...

Inspiration Music: "Sweet Escape" by Gwen Stefani