Strange Bedfellows

This year due to all of the rain, my gardening consists of taking the huge pair of lopping shears across the road from my house and chopping off branches, broom and scrub. Last night it was pouring down rain. I got a bee in my bonnet to get over there wearing my bright (too large) orange rain coat and start the lopping process on the branches that were drooping over the road - heavy with rain. 


What makes my gardening behavior legal is the county used to do this work when they had money, keeping trees and branches off the road. Though I'd really rather do this work myself because when I do the work, it gets done without ten county employees standing around scratching themselves while leaning sideways on a shovel, talking about last night's game. Let's face it. I'm cheap labor plus I don't need a shovel just to stay vertical.


This morning upon climbing out of bed, I noticed a strange object on the carpet right next to the bed. I bent down to pick it up, realizing the object felt kinda armor-ish, I tossed it quickly onto my dresser. Turns out it was a scorpion body. To my relief it was dead. I probably rolled over on it in the middle of the night and crushed it under my bones, knocking it off the bed.


I didn't think too much of it, we had a scorpion in the clothes once. I wanted to photograph it. I put the scorpion in a biodegradable plastic-type container made of cornstarch. I put the container in my dog toy bag (always carry a dog toy bag now). 


Arriving at work, I told my sister about gardening and the run-in with the scorpion carcass - relieved I wasn't stung because if it had stung me - OW.


I took the container out of my bag to take a picture and the scorpion waved to me. When I die, I'm hoping someone will put my carcass in a biodegradable container made out of cornstarch so I can come back to life too.

Bagging Lingerie

As I was dressing this morning I pondered my old undies (from the days of yore) and the idea of purchasing new underwear (aka car covers) since losing nearly 100 lbs. My old underwear still fit my much smaller butt except for some sag in the cheek area - something one might expect to see on a woman my age who had lost 100 lbs. Don't worry, you'll never have to see the sag. Even if we decide we're game to snuggle, I'll be fully dressed as if I were doing Hugh. 


I discussed this underwear issue with an old friend, Tricia. She told me I needed to celebrate my weight loss by buying myself nice lingerie, to throw out my car covers; that my self-esteem was at stake. 


Do you really think my self-esteem is at stake about my underwear? Are there bigger issues than baggy pants? Is this a battle I want to fight? I don't care about lingerie because I'd rather have money for my house payment, food and gas, or vice versa. I only have to see my baggy panties for a second and then if they look that bad, I can look out the window and think about the birds singing or check under the bed for dust rhinos and add to my to-do list.


People with lymphedema aren't supposed to wear tight clothing, anything that interferes with the flow of lymph if there is any flow at all (at least not mid-leg). I had an MLD therapist who would (slightly) holler at me with my too small underwear though I never bought bigger undies because she hollered. I really seriously thought that I was THAT size. When I was a size 28, it didn't matter that my jeans were skin tight either, I didn't buy larger pants because I didn't know if anyone made larger pants. A fat person wears what they can find that fits. Either that or they visit Omar and have tents made.

The way I see it, I can give up my anti-depressant and my corgi in order to have money to spend on new lingerie so that my self-esteem doesn't plummet. But the thought of living in a cardboard-box home with fancy lingerie doesn't seem like it will assuage my esteem. While money is tight -- for the first time in my life, my underwear aren't. That in itself is a celebration.

How Do You Do, Hugh?

Bella under the table at the restaurant

We've been experiencing spectacular weather here in central California. Yesterday was absolutely perfect. Lots of (too many) tourists. Other than the streets being blocked with people who have no clue how to drive, my weekend was phenomenal. I'm sorry for all the complaints during rainy weather. If it makes a difference, the weather report calls for rain late tonight into tomorrow. Guess I'll survive.


I met some new people over the weekend. A kid who just got out of jail, begging for money in the Safeway parking lot. I gave him a small bill but also gave him a lecture. I asked him why he was in jail and he said he beat up a guy who was talking to his fiance. I love it when the youth use the word fiance especially when they've just gotten out of jail. He was a real (wanna-be) tough guy. I told him "You don't look so tough - begging for money in the Safeway parking lot!" (How embarrassing - at least use a fake gun or rubber band!) I mean, be tough or be a wimp but don't ask a woman old enough to have given birth to you twice over pay for your get-out-of-jail breakfast. I'd have scraped gum off the ground to sustain my hunger before begging from me! Anything to stay out of a lecture.

Sailing school outside the harbor

In the Trader Joe's parking lot, a man came up to me asking if Bella was a corgi (duh!). He was older, 89 to be exact, carrying a plastic shopping bad with his assorted doodads. We had a great conversation, seriously (never mentioned Fiat once). He fought at the Battle of the Bulge (me too!) He mentioned other wars. War of the Worlds, the War on Drugs etc.  I was reminded of Hugh Hefner especially when my new beau was talking to me about all his money. He pointed over to the credit union saying he had "half a million over there!" He had inherited a mow-bile home which totally cinched this coming into money idea in my mind. I guess I could be arm candy for an 89 year old man! As long as when we snuggle it's fully clothed. I can't be bothered for much more than a snuggle. The bad thing is what if he lives to be 105? His dad died at 100 years old! He told me he had a 1991 Ford (somekindofcar) with 17k miles on it. What a go getter this guy is...I was charmed. I was positive my mom would like him.

Santa Cruz boardwalk

On Saturday, I'd had a conversation with Joanne about how much money it would take for us to "do" Hugh" since Hugh's girlfriend dumped him a week before their wedding. I mentioned that I wouldn't do Hugh for any amount. Joanne decided she would do Hugh for 50 billion. Yeah, that sounds like the right amount. I brought this subject up to my sister earlier this morning, discussing the amount Joanne had settled on to do Hugh. My sister said "He wouldn't do either one of you guys!"
As if we were serious.

Surgery-versary

Today is my one year post-gastric bypass anniversary. I've lost 94 lbs (give or take on any day) when initially I assumed I wasn't fat enough to lose that much weight. I only expected to drop around 50-60 lbs. 

My lymphedema is much smaller in both legs -- I wish I'd measured but the only person who has my measurements is my lymphedema therapist. Years ago (ten at least) I wore a size 26 pant. Now my pant size is a 10, the size 12 jeans can be pulled off without unfastening them (something I do all the time, mind you). My legs are not tiny and will never be completely normal but I can see now that the lymphedema resides mostly in the bottom of my legs, at the knee and below, with some fibrosis in my knees, my feet and of course, my "creepy toes."

With this weight-loss came an increase in movement I was able to witness so clearly because the weight came off so quickly. Mobility was my biggest concern going forward. As we age, the majority of us tend to move less and less until someone else must pick our carcass up and stick it inside a coffin. Excess weight exacerbates our inability to move so it makes sense that weight would take away years from one's life. 

I have no regrets about choosing gastric bypass.

None.

The only real regret(s) I have is how much time I wasted dieting, talking about dieting, obsessing about food, starving myself, overeating, sitting in Weight Watchers meetings (though the people were lovely), attending a few O.A. meetings, eating too much, drinking too much, eating at night, thinking about eating at night, writing blog posts obsessing about being fat or dieting or what I was going to try next in order to quit eating so much, or how I was going to distract myself from thinking about eating or dieting or eating at night or drinking too much or telling others what they should be eating, or reading diet books or thinking "that's the diet I'll pick and it will finally work like magic!" or discussing my food with (skinny) "counselors" or all that money spent at other diet places or on diet pills (years and years ago) or taking phen-fen or non-fat foods vs low-fat foods vs whole fat foods or how I was going to eat fish for breakfast every day or how I could never eat a bagel or a scone or a muffin or bake again or eat eggnog fudge or See's candy. I regret the time I was riding my bike when I was younger, and someone yelled out "Where's the seat?" though I could certainly feel the seat. I regret sitting on the sidelines, not fitting in the ride at Great America because the safety bar wouldn't come down over my legs. I regret the money spent on hypnosis, on special meals, on liquid protein. I regret not water skiing. I regret carnival rides I went on where I squished whoever sat next to me. (Sorry!) I regret being obese for years and then being diagnosed with uterine cancer because obesity is such a huge risk factor for certain types of cancers (breast, colon, prostate, endometrium (uterine), kidney and gallbladder) - something like 8-42% of these cancers are attributable to a BMI above 21 (I'm still doomed!) I never thought a cancer diagnosis would happen to me. I figured I had been pre-disastered having been born with lymphedema, having a husband die at age 50 of colan cancer. There was no way I'd get cancer too. The world does not work that way. (Obesity causes brain damage. I ought to know.)

Gastric bypass is not a miracle but a method. I would chose it again in a heart-beat. For someone who has lymphedema and is overweight or obese or just pain fat, and who was given a cancer diagnosis, I lessened the chance for recurrence, my risks for other cancers and increased my mobility for the time I have left on this planet. Gastric bypass surgery provided better mobility with weight loss (in a timely fashion, I might add). Gastric bypass made my lymphedema better which means I'll have few, if any, infections. More mobility, activity provides better overall health. Movement is life affirming. Time is very precious - at least I know this now, and have grown to appreciate and act on this knowledge. 

Gastric bypass bought me time though I wish it would have been nice if it bought me a new wardrobe too.

Biting the Bullet

I bit the bullet and ordered one of those canvas-type prints. It arrived yesterday and it's cute as heck. Maybe it's just the subject matter that's cute. I dunno. I was really impressed with their work. I had to pay for S&H only which if I remember correctly was $14.95 delivered by UPS. 

Cute subject matter on canvas
photo was taken August 2010

I didn't receive anything promotional from the company to rave about them.
They did a great job. They have the same deal I got (8x10) when you click on the link below.


CanvasPeople.com




Other than hanging out and looking at photos and real life cute kids and dogs, I got a call to go out to dinner with the director of the organization with which I volunteer (a local cancer organization). Dinner should be interesting. She asked, "Do you drink?" I thought, "Heck yeah!" (especially if we're going to talk about cancer!) though I only replied "Yes." So we'll meet in the bar. You should have heard me describing myself to her. After my description I'm scared to meet me!

Ultimate Cheap Date

Popcorn and water, a bit of music, some dancing and not too much conversation. A perfect afternoon.



Get educated with Bradley...

The Inner Schmuckdom

We have all done something cringeworthy in our lives. So that when Congressman Weiner insisted over and over again that he didn't tweet photos of his body parts, I felt a stirring, a tap, tap, tapping at the chamber door of my Cringe-O-Meter.


When the meter starts going off it begins with a feeling like I need to wash my hands, maybe a shower (not a cold one), then I feel the need to wash my sheets, perhaps set off a bug bomb. With each passing lie, my Cringe-O-Meter edges past 50%, heading quickly up to 75%, then maybe steam starts coming out the backside closer to 100% - sparks out of the electrical outlet. I'm holding my stomach wondering why oh why do people have to lie like this so publicly involving their spouse and families, their young kids (in some cases or maybe their young kids from several wives or husbands)? What is the lesson that needs to be learned at age 30-something that we couldn't have gotten out of the way at let's say, age 10? With the lies about a mystery hack and a refusal to state whether the body part in the photo was his or not, Congressman Weiner just could not back off of his made (maid??)-up story. (I'll bet he felt about 10 years old!) I'll be the first person to claims my own cringiness. If I took a photo of one of my body parts, I'd recognize it. Especially if I took photos of my creepy toes. There'd be no mistaking those toes.


When you're creating a big ole fat cringe-athon, my advice is to fess-up early, say you're sorry and take your lumps or it's gonna come back to haunt. This string of reaction to your action never seems to fail. Don't keep digging a hole with lies because you'll get tangled in that web and end up looking like a lying schmuck. People won't trust you any longer. Trust is a big deal.


If you're a public figure and I'm watching you on MSNBC or Rachel Maddow or gawd forbid CNN or worse, and you are lying to your spouse about the affairs with the janitor, your toe-tapping behavior in airport bathrooms, your 276 sets of twins you've had that you didn't pay child support for, the public is going to find out because otherwise a lot of reporters would be out of jobs. Please stop lying. Please if possible, stop cheating & stealing. Stop being a schmuck. That way I don't have to deal with my own feelings of schmuckdom that your actions caused to stir up inside of me.

To a Literate Coyote

"If you notice anything it leads you to notice more and more."

- Mary Oliver

"Dammit!"

-Janell

An Open Letter to a Coyote who has internet access, reads, writes, etc.:

Neither Bella nor I are smart enough to avoid the path with which you poop.  Don't get me wrong. We will avoid stepping in your poop because you make it so obvious, however, we're not translating the sign of your poop as THE STOP SIGN. Besides, Bella likes to sniff poop. Your poop makes her day. No one ever said that to me so I'd take the statement as a compliment. In fact, if I had not pulled Bella away from your pile with a very stern (a-hahahaha) "leave it!" (loosely translated to muhmehmahbleh inside Bella's pointy head) she probably would have gobbled it up like that free sample at See's. (No offense, See's. That means it's really good stuff.)


The idea of your presence is a marvel to me, yet still scary like waiting to see if the doctor is going to say your cancer has returned. Since I had cancer once, I know what that kind of fear is like. I live it daily when and if I remember to think about it but I usually don't think about it because I'm busy avoiding piles of poo. Bella and I refuse to live our lives as if you might eat one of us for a snack (and at this point, I'm definitely thin enough to be considered snack-worthy.) We refuse to live our lives as if the return of cancer is a given. We're going to trod where others refuse to (or even know how to) trod whether or not we are welcome, and as long as there is no NO trespassing sign posted because I really hate to trespass when there's a legit sign (as opposed to a poo sign).


We have places to go, people to meet and trails to trek. As long as Bella and I have the ability to cavort through the forest, your poop will not rain on our parade or stick in our paws. We refuse (and I take the liberty to speak for Bella at this point) to be fearful of everyday things (like cars, kites and diesel engines, barking dogs or dogs with huge, thick, brick-shaped heads or their look-a-like owners, brooms, vacuums and inexplicable noises that come from household appliances even if those appliances are supposedly considered discreet) -- for the same reason (and I am going out on a limb here) that you cannot show your fear of us (a lot of crying and howling noises for starters). We won't avoid our walks because you might show up (in one way or another - nice try with the poop!).  We will step around your poop or kick it to the side after it's dry. We will avoid your cancer-y-like ways. You are tricky though since I'm also a trickster, I'm watching you as much as you're watching us - only in actuality, I've really only seen you once (in the past week) though I've now seen your poop twice -- so pretty much I'm only watching your poop and (ever so slightly) concerned with why you keep making your poop obvious (though I know from what I read on the internet it's so we can take the hint and stay away from your trail). 


How would you like it if I left a big pile where you walk, huh? 


Somehow, someway we have to maintain a balance between safety and risk just so we can get out of bed in the morning. We can't live our lives as if our next step is going to feel spongy underfoot. 


Then again, maybe this topic is too deep for you. (Or maybe you didn't pay your online access bill this month). (Who knows!?) (I can't even believe I'm writing a blog post about a coyote pooping.)


We may seem fool-hearty, somewhat careless to others, clueless for walking where you hunt and live; so few undisturbed options for you. It is said (someplace I read on the internet) that if a coyote enters your life, you need to look at things you've been avoiding. Well, we've been avoiding you, Coyote and when we can't avoid you because you poop right smack in the middle of the pathway, we can kick your sh*t to the side and keep on walking. Even though we can't see you because you are cunning (like cancer!), if Bella gets close enough to smell your poop pile, we will continue to act as if you don't exist (with a hearty, convincing leave it command along with a pull on the harness and if that does not work, I'll pick her up and carry her away) otherwise, we'd be living in fear, frightened out of our wits, afraid to move in the world because we don't always take the time to notice the mess beneath our feet.

image courtesy of radioparadise.com

"Coyote is a complex symbol of humor, cunning, and survival. Coyote is often portrayed as the 'wise fool', helping people to see the truth in difficult situations. Coyote medicine is often strongly tied to learning to be adaptable, seeing the humor in even the worst situations, and being able to cope with even the toughest things life can throw at you."

(Foxfeather)

June 1st 2011

Ferns that are tired of the rain

Dearest Sister,


As you're enjoying your vacation, I thought I'd update you, perhaps daily, depending on the amount of phone calls, orders and extra doodies (I know that duties is not spelled that way) you've left me with. I hope the weather is good where you are.


It's raining today on and off  -- as it was yesterday -- only today is June 1st. Mom is afraid it's going to snow on her when she's driving to Oregon tomorrow. There is a threat of snow on Mt. Hamilton above 4k feet. It's cold here. I built a fire before I left home this morning. It's June 1st! The inside of my house temp was 48 degrees when I woke up. Before falling asleep, I put that artificial fur blanket on top of all the other blankets. I have not used that blanket all winter. Hopefully while I'm at work someone will break into my house and be able to enjoy cozy, warmth of the fire as I'm sure the embers will be down to coals by the time I reach home tonight.


I'm craving celery so I bought a whole bunch and pack that to eat like a snack. It's delicious. This is kind of funny. I keep making myself slightly sick of foods by eating them to excess. By 'excess' I don't mean tons of food at any one time. I mean too much of one food and this can be over the coarse of days or weeks. It happened with ice cream which means it can easily happen with celery. It happened with watermelon. I think it's nearly happened with microwave popcorn. We shall see. My body is probably craving actual nutrition from the celery as compared with the popcorn. Maybe I'll drop some more weight.


Tom installed the new printer today. It works well but doesn't staple or 3 hole punch so my job continues to branch out creative into areas I never imagined. Life is good.


I'm sure you're at the pool bar wearing the bikini you spent months looking for online though I'm seriously not jealous.


I spent some of Sunday with Hannah. She was a joy as usual. She coiffed Bradley's hair which was in dire need of coiffing if you are an almost 6 year old stylist.


I spent part of Sunday with Joanne and Joe. We ate horses-doovers and drank wine. Joanne is a bad influence though I still love her. Maybe her bad influence is why I love her. Or maybe it's Winnie. Bella gets along with Winnie while Winnie doesn't always get along with other dogs. Bella can poop in their backyard. No one complains. In fact,  I think Joanne welcomes the additional poop. When he goes outside to pick it up, I hope Joe doesn't think it was me that left that pile.


I have not seen the coyote at work but then again who wants to go out in this rain?


Someone suffered an accident on the way home from work yesterday. I nearly got caught in the traffic snarl though at the last moment, flipped my car around (nearly causing another accident) and took a different route home.  Bella had to hold on for dear life because the alternate route was circuitous. This accident happened on Old San Jose Road. I couldn't find any news in the local papers though my neighbor said he thought it was a fatality as he drove by the scene. I talked to my neighbor for a long time last night when I was supposed to be walking Bella. Bella breathed in diesel fumes for a half hour and we walked back home. Fun for everyone.


Someone sent me an email and told me that my blog is on a list of Top 50 Weightloss/Maintenance blogs for a personal training website. Woo hoo! I can retire.


Good thing I'm still knitting (and enjoying it) because we need all the scowls we can get for this winter-like weather occurring in the late spring/summer. Plus worn strategically, the scowl doubles as a feedbag. Just imagine all the celery a person can eat! 


Pax phoned to say they had tornado warnings. He was phoning from under his desk. 


Send photos of you wearing that bikini.


Love, 
Your younger sister 


P.S. IF THREATENING WEATHER APPROACHES YOUR AREA... TAKE SHELTER IN A STURDY BUILDING.


P.S.S. The only time I have questions about the Anthony Weiner thing is every time Anthony Weiner talks about it. (Plus I want to know who's idea was it to change their last name to Weiner instead of keeping it at Weinersteinhalt?) (Just sayin...)