Dear Future Heather,

You do not like throwing New Year's parties. They require a lot of planning and prep and they require that the house get cleaned and then STAYS cleaned. This is a lot of work on your week off. It takes away from your relaxation.

You will drink too much, talk too loud and possibly even get sick. You are definitely going to feel bad on New Year's Day and then you have to go back to work. Ick. Future Heather, you need to take January 2 off too. Plan for that now.

Future Heather you need to know that when you are on vacation you are lethargic. You don't eat right, you don't exercise and you have really poor habits all around. Don't try to act like you do, just try to do one thing better in the future. If you plan on doing all of them, you are oging ot disappoint yourself time and time again. But if you make an effort to talk walks then at least you're being active.

Just some things to think about.

love,

Past Heather

PS to my 2 readers: Have a happy, healthy, joyous new year. I don't make resolutions, so I won't be swearing I'm going to write more or anything but keep in touch!

The comments I have been getting on this emailed picture are torn between how cute the puppy is (we wound up naming him Charlie Bear because he looks like a Teddy Bear) and how cute my HUSBAND is.

I agree with both.

Been having a blast with the puppy, but we're pretty spoiled by his mellowness. He has had few to no house accidents and no "destroy everything" incidents.

Plus, he will acknowledge you (sort of) when you call him. Although he has been prone to taking a message and getting back to us.

And having the puppy has introduced us to The Dog Whisperer on the National Geographic channel. This is me and Pops (my nickname for Scott's dad) new favorite show, but Scott gets burned out in it pretty quick.

If anyone has any tips on easing crate training, I'm open to suggestions...

Our puppy has arrived and we have decided to name him Charlie. As sort of a tribute to my dad, Charles. I asked my mom if she thought he would mind, and she wrote back, "How would we ever know?" His full name is Charlie Biscuit Lee. Mom says that if I had been a boy, I would have been Brian Charles and Dad was going to nickname me BC. She said if we called our boy Biscuit Charlie, he could have the same nickname.

But, I'm digging on calling him Charlie B.

He's always been an outside dog, so bringing him inside has been somewhat confusing for him.

But boy, he is CUTE. I never knew I would be this much of a dog person but he is the newest love of my life!

We're getting a puppy!!

This is not an exact image of our puppy but he is a golden retriever and we'll have him next week.

We called Scott's dad and stepmom to tell them. I said, "You're going to be grandparents -- it's a boy!"

Ooops. They went nuts. Crazy with the yelling and excitement. I couldn't let it drag out and had to yell over them that it was a puppy. They were still pretty happy but not like that.

Wow.

But now we're debating names. Can't decide on one.

Any thoughts from the readers?

Why is it that whenever I cut my hair off my husband suddenly wants me to grow it shoulder length? A style that I have been saying I think I wanted to try but he would not validate.

Why does the world seem so absurd sometimes? I cannot relate to anything or anyone for long periods of time. What's my character's motivation? Why am I interested?

I'm never going to be able to tell you the truth about how I feel about you and it's killing me.

And that sentence is true for so many people in so many different ways.

Here is what I find annoying (I think I've said this before) -- why is it that I can lift weights a couple of times a week and never get any stronger? What is that about?

If I know what's going to happen to you, is it because I'm psychic, a know-it-all, or you just keep making the same dumb-ass mistakes all the time?

And, what is the being right thing about? Why the fuck do I have to be right all the time? That is so obnoxious. If I never solve anything else about my character, I really wish I could fix this. Man, it's disgusting. I don't want to be right all the time. I want you to be right and I really want not to care that I don't get to be right.

I can't believe I am going to have to study to get a D on a test. I mean, I know that's arrogant, but that's because I'm arrogant about this. I always bought in to my own hype that I'm smart. But, if I were smart, I would not have to study hard to get a D. That's not fair.

Travis figured out tonight that Scott and I's "act" is that we sell each other. The thing I sell him on is that he wants to take care of me and nurture me and the thing he sells me on is that he can do all of that and more. We're not always successful selling each other, but I guess it makes a fun show to watch.

I know it's wrong but sometimes I think we like being in love in front of people. Our kind of love. The goofy dysfunctional kind. We like to show it off and see if people think it's as cool as we do.

But there's a lot of expectations that go along with show-offy love and I think sometimes we let each other down.

You can't put on the show all the time.

I think the reason I like to take a week of at Christmas is that I like to pretend it's high school break. Take time to be with my friends and family. Hang out and talk to them. And in these fantasies we're always drinking hot beverages. Usually spiked with rum.

Hmm, I'll have to call HP2 and pass this on as a suggestion...

Oh my freaking God I am almost done with Physics.

Whenever people in my class learn that I am not taking the next class, they always ask why I am not required to take the next level? I explain that I did not even have to take THIS level, but that I am an idiot.

It's perplexing being an idiot in most situations, but in Physics it's a tragicomedy. Especially since the teacher will ask us if we understand and then tell us that of course we do and move on to the next thing.

Why did I take Physics? Because I don't like to cut things up, I am really bad at Chemistry and I think Earth Science is boring.

If I had to do it all over again, I would have chosen to be bored.

But I don't, because I'm leaving and heading for VA Wesleyan in the Spring to work on my grown up degree. Woo hoo!

And next semester I'm not taking anything that could even remotely be mistaken for a lab science. Not even in a dark alley in a bad neighborhood. I'm taking Organizational Psychology and Buddhist Philosophy.

Don't you love the yen/yang of it?? Does Organizational Psych get less zen than Buddhism? It's basically the antithesis of Buddhism, I think. I think it's going to be a good contrast. Plus, this is my first toe dunk in to a 300 level class. Something I believe I am completely unprepared for, but who knows? I may surprise myself.

Then again, I seldom do. :)

Actually, this whole going to grown up school is pretty funny because when you look at me on paper from back in the day (aka my JMU transcript), I really look like a drop-out burner/loser. My GPA worked out to be like 1.5 or something horrific like that. My VWC advisor was praising me on how proud I should be of what I have accomplished in my adult college career. I mean, it just doesn't seem like she should be talking about me.

I was an honor grad, for pity's sake. I took AP classes. Who is this loser with the shit GPA we're talking about? Hard to believe it was me. Hard to believe that I look like that on paper. It just goes to show, I think, that it really doesn't matter what those numbers look like -- they tell nothing of the person behind them. No one who met that girl would have ever believed that she was capable of being like that.

But, she was -- I was. But, I still can't reconcile it.

And this is where it gets a little wrapped up... I think that people who have known me since I was that girl still see that in me. Still see that girl who made those mistakes and who let her life fall in to someone else's hands and gave it away. Someone that it never would have seemed possible. It's hard not to see myself that way sometimes. It's hard to accept that I am a different person now -- a person that I wish that girl could have met and learned from.

Boy, all this rambling ain't gonna cut it at the 300 level... :)

Whenever I read my really old blogs, I always feel quite bad about my really new blogs.

I was single then, sorry.

Read the stuff from 2003 -- boy, I could sure turn a phrase back then. Held the phrase in my hand and lovingly nurtured it into something bite size and delicious.

Or 9 course meals when I was feeling verbose, which was apparently quite often then.

Single. Lived alone. Minimal amounts of school work.

Sorry again. Read that crap. It's good!

I find that whenever I have free time that allows me to mess around online, I rarely do anything "productive." I just like surfing around and looking at the same things over and over again.

I go and visit the same blogs and curse when they have not been updated.

I wonder if people curse when they visit my blog because it has not been updated or if there even are any visitors anymore or if I even care.

Sometimes I do care.

Mostly, not as much as I like. I get periodic comments and this gets me motivated to write more, but then I answer the comments and get no response and I give up.

I want to be read but I know that means writing things people want to read and not just writing about wanting people to read this crap.

Lately I have been looking at my butt a lot. I have no idea what this is about but if I am in front of a mirror than is possible to reflect my butt, I will look. I am little upset that my butt looks exactly the same to me as it did some 50 lbs ago.

How is it possible to lose more than 50 pounds and still have such a giant ass?? I just cannot figure this out.

Sometimes people notice that I have lost weight and this makes me feel both proud and incredibly self-concious. People who have noticed or who know that I am working on it feel guilty whenever they are fat around me. As if their fatness somehow offends me. It's very odd. I know that it's because I am doing something and they are not and that makes them feel weird. I wish I could say, "Don't feel weird." The other day at work I was talking to one of the Directors that I like and had not seen in a while and she commented on my weight loss progress as she eyed my Lean Cuisine meal. I tried to direct the conversation towards her recent wedding (a topic far more current and interesting to me) and she summed it up that it was fine and then pointed out her high fat lunch content. And further pointed out a recent physical problem that was keeping her from exercising.

I mean, lady, you are my boss's boss. I think that you are allowed to carry a few pounds. I am no judging, please do not fire me.

This is not an isolated incident but just the most recent that I can recall. But, whenever people see me heading to the gym on my breaks, they will sometimes make comments. Not negative, per se, but more... Self-deprecating, actually. But yet, proud in their self-deprecation.

And I relate to this.

The truth is that I start over every day. I make mistakes and I go nuts eating or drinking like I think it's the "good old days" and try to right myself and I eventually get a little straighter. I have been going to the gym on my breaks, usually 3 times a day, to get in 30 minutes of exercise Monday through Friday and I take the stairs to my car on the third floor of the garage almost faithfully every day and STILL get winded doing it.

I lift weights twice a week to try to shape myself a little. I have a routine that was set up for me by the personal trainer. One exercise is to lift 5 lb dumbells from my shoulders over my head in the shape of a triangle. 2 sets of 15. I have been doing this routine for 2 months and I STILL can barely get through the second set of 15. Five pounds.

It's sad.

I sometimes think that I do all this work and make all these changes and for what? It seems there is so little change.

And then I know that I must be hormonal and I look at my butt again and I look at the 3 pants sizes I have gone down and I try to push forward.

But, don't feel shamed by me and don't feel shamed by yourself. You get ready when you're ready. That's all. If losing weight were easy, it wouldn't be a bilion dollar industry, right?

Anyways, that's my tangent. That's my blog -- for now.

Look, Fall...

We can hear the Salem High School band practicing from our house. I friggin' LOVE that. It's just starting to get cold and the leaves have long been falling...

It's FALL!

I love Fall and Spring because they are the transitional seasons. They are periods of the year that I can really relate to. Fall doesn't know if it wants to be cold or warm, rainy or sunny, crisp or muggy. It is completely unwilling to commit to any one weather pattern and I love its ambiguity.

Anyways, the change in season, but more particularly the sounds of the high school band drifting over really made me nostalgic for high school football.

I remember going to the games and the sounds of the fans and then the band playing and all of the excitement. And I really had the urge to go to a game.

And then I remembered all of the climbing of the stands and the cold, cold stand under my butt. And the not really knowing what's going with the football game and the just waiting for it to be over. And waiting and waiting and waiting.

And then THAT made me think about what high school football games were like when I was in high school. For one, they were actually at the high school and now I think they are at a local mini sports arena. For another, one of the reasons I would get so tired of being at the games was all of the walking. Remember that? How you had to walk and walk and walk because you were trying to find the person you went to the game with in the first place? But, you got separated when he/she went for just a minute to get some popcorn and next thing, you can't find them anywhere. And you walk around in circles forEVER and then just give up and sit next to someone who at least looks vaguely familiar.

Yeah, high school football really sucked before cell phones. :) Now, I guess you could just text your buddy with your location and be good to go.

Am I too old to make out under the stands now?

I stole this from Lori's blog... (with slight modifications)

If you want to respond, just cut and paste into comments.
Part I

1.Your Middle Name:

2. Age:

3. Single or Taken:

4. Favorite Movie:

5. Favorite Song:

6. Favorite Band/Artist:

7. Toilet paper over or under:

8. Paper or plastic:

Part II

1. How do we know each other?

2. Whats your philosophy on life?

3. Would you help me hide the body?

4. Would you keep a secret from me if you thought it was in my best interest?

5. What is your favorite memory of us?

6. Would you give me a kidney?

7. Tell me one odd/interesting fact about you:

8. Would you take care of me when I'm sick?

9. Can we get together and make a cake?

10. Have you heard any rumors of me lately?

11. Do you/have you talk(ed) crap about me?
11.5 Would you admit it?

12. Do you think I'm a good person?

13. Would you drive across country with me?

14. Do you think I'm attractive?

15. If you could change anything about me, would you?

16. What do you wear to sleep?

17. Would you come over for no reason just to hang out?

18. Would you go on a date with me if i asked you?

19. If I only had one day to live, what would we do together?

I'm not a freak. I'm surprisingly not overly disappointed by this.

I mean, maybe I wish I was freakier. Maybe I could have been freakier if I had come from a different gene pool or had different life exposures.

What brought on this not-so-shocking revelation? We decided to go to the sex store tonight. It was totally random but Scott suggested it and I was like okay.

They've got weird stuff there. Things I am pretty sure I would not want to meet the person in whom they would fit. Like a life sized rubber fist.

Man sized fist.

Scary big fist.

And why are the costumes so darned expensive? I mean, they're really cheap quality and it's not like you have them on long. Do they charge that much because they can? Because they have to make up in price what they lack in volume of sales? It's puzzling. But it's just not worth $60 to me to be a naughty nurse.

I mean, maybe if I could charge someone whose money doesn't share a bank account with mine...

And then there was the porn. Wow. 7 levels of scary there. Old lady porn, porn filmed by secret camera, anal sex porn, fat girl porn -- who wants to see this?

Don't tell me -- I don't want to know.

Right now the only porn we have access to is the soft core Skin-a-max kind. Not enough sex and too much really bad story line. And I think I'm the only person lame enough to actually get sucked in to the bad story line and want to know how it turns out.

Speaking of which, Emanuelle and The Alien Sex Slaves is about to come on -- so I've got to dash.

That's SOOO Funny/It's funny, because...
aka Conversational Tics you didn't realize you had

I am hoping to get organized AND motivated enough to write about this past bachelorette weekend. The problem with the motivation is that no one really GETS what we are like (and WHY) when we are together, so there is always background information that goes in to it.

So, instead I am going to tell you about a little conversational tic I like to call "that's SO funny."

Have you ever been around someone who said something that was funny enough to note the amusing factor, but not funny enough to laugh out loud? Or worse, have you been around someone who really felt that what they were saying was funny, you wanted to go along -- so you felt the need to acknowledge their attempt at humor?

Have you ever noticed how many times you say, "That's SO funny!" I think you will now. I've been studying it. Not sure how it got started or why it continues, but I really want to break it from my vocabulary.

There are many snafus to this plan though. One being -- what do you do with those amusing anecdotes that ARE amusing, but not quite amusing enough to laugh out loud? How do you get someone to discontinue a story that only they think is funny without being rude? It's a quagmire.

Second tic: "It's funny, because..." We open stories with this phrase, which I think is used in order to tie someone else's story into the story you actually wanted to share. After all, my favorite quote, "It may be us they wish to meet, but it's themselves they wish to talk about" works both ways. OR you need a reason to introduce an anecdote, but the only way to do so is by explaining that it's supposed to be funny and therefore somehow worthy.

Or that's all I can come up with so far as a reason.

This post isn't finished, but Julia demanded I put something else up. (See previous comment.)

I'll try to finish or write again this month.

History, revisited.

2/28/05 -- I posted this story about my past and a pair I called Derrick and Vidalia. Here's the link http://thereisthat.blogspot.com/2005_02_01_thereisthat_archive.html


Vidalia's been creeping back into the edges of my life lately. She and Derrick did indeed get married. Scott and I ran into her and her husband at a mutual friends barbecue a few months ago. Got to thinking about the people that we know whose lives intersect. And I took a leap and called to invite her and her husband to our housewarming this weekend.

She responded warmly and was pleased that I had invited them.

I figured they'd come to the party and we'd exchange polite party banter and then we'd run into each once in a while and it would be far less awkward.

Turns out the running into each other happened sooner than the party. I was at the local college where I am planning to transfer this fall (VWC, for you locals) and she comes in almost like we had planned to be there at the same time and is paying for her classes and whatnot. Crazy! So, I'm getting ready to go meet with my advisor and she's telling me what classes she's enrolling in and what's available.

When I meet with the advisor, it turns out that the only class it looks like I'm fit for IS (who doesn't see THIS one coming) is a class that Vidalia is also going to be enrolled in.

Well, I just had to call her on the way home. It was too funny. (After all these years, I still know her number by heart because of a drunken night when I recorded her answering machine message.) I was like I know that you're not going to believe that I'm not stalking you, but...

We laughed. And it was nice to laugh with a friend that I had laughed with so many times in the past. I had a big smile on my face when we hung up.

The Vidalia story has always been one of the ultimate conundrums in my life. Why didn't she come to me? Why didn't we work it out? Why didn't I give up my pride? I didn't want the man, he wasn't right for me. It was NEVER, EVER about that. (No offense meant to the man, but whatever.)

And I think that I may have figured it out. V and I were good friends when this went down, but we weren't OLD friends. Our friendship wasn't strong enough to the withstand that level of drama. We couldn't have a fight and just brush it off. When we had a fight, it meant the end. It was the high school level of friendship, I guess.

Do I think we're going to become tight buddies again? I doubt it. It's water under the bridge and the bygones are definitely gone, but I think there's going to be too much awkwardness between us to ever get back to that level. I don't know.

I don't know.

You never know where life will take you, eh?

and just one more quick thing before I let you go

After I posted that Arnold quote (about the duct tape), I realized that the reason that I don't just completely go off and say any old thing out here in the world wide web is because of Arnold. Because I WAS Arnold. I was (and am) weird and don't completely fit in. And not even in a way that I can put my finger on. I just do not know how to relate to people, to get close to them, to bond to them. I just don't get but so close.

I've never been quite weird enough for anyone to wrap me in duct tape and throw me in a dumpster, but I also have always known that I was really close to the line. I really understand that I walk the line.

And this prevents me from going off completely. It's the underlying notion that even if I metaphorically cover someone in duct tape and throw them in a dumpster by just unleashing all of my unfiltered opinions on them, it doesn't do anything but relieve the tension I feel because the person is different than me. Doesn't quite fit into my view of "the picture." I can go off and walk away, but then how about how the Arnolds feel? How to deal with the fact that this act has changed them in a negative way? How to deal with the fact that my name and vision will forever after be associated with something horrible and unkind?

Who am I to judge? Who am I to determine someone's destiny?

I am but a speck in the face of the universe and all I really want to do is to make sure that when I am gone, the speck that I occupied is not worse for it.

HPL

Julia is trekking through Europe right now. Maybe she will stop at an internet cafe and get a wild urge to check on my blog. And I will say, "Remember that thing you told me to tell you not to do? You're doing it again."

I wonder if she remembers this?? I tried to teach this to my godmother, because she is the one who instituted the "just one more quick thing before I let you go" phrase. She'll call for a quick minute and before you know it, it's an hour gone by and your ear is hanging by a thread. I tried to teach her about the above phrase, but so far it's not meeting with much success.

I'm thinking about giving up blogging. It's all but a shadow of it's former self anyways. I don't go into much detail about anything overly person and there's rarely even a sense that I should be posting.

I remember when I used to keep a regular journal. The need, the craving to sit down and dump out all that was INSIDE OF HEATHER'S HEAD and get it out, out, out. While I still feel that way in some respects with the blog, I feel that level of censorship because it's out there and it's so public that I never, of course, had with my journal. (Even after learning my mom was reading my journal...)

Plus, there was that satisfaction of having the pen feverishly scratching over the paper, the side of my hand black with the ink of my writings... And being able to go back and tell just from my handwriting what my mood was like.

Now that I'm blogging, my handwriting is 10,000 times worse than it ever was because I rarely ever write much of anything down.

I want to believe that I'm still writing for myself, but I know how much I censor. I can't show off all of the ugly side of my personality, my opinions and my life. For the same reason that women fear having their journals read -- the fear of scorn and judgment. I want people to think I'm nice and sweet and yet sarcastic and salty and yet never think any of that has anything to do with you.

But the truth is -- I do not understand you and your life anymore than you can ever understand me. I do not get the choice you make because they are not the choice I would make. I do not understand how you cannot see yourself the way other people see you -- anymore than you cannot understand how I do not see myself the way other people see me.

So, I don't know. Maybe I won't come back. Maybe I will. It's just not the same for me anymore. And look back at the old stuff: http://thereisthat.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_thereisthat_archive.html

This stuff was good stuff. Classic Heather stuff. Pre-marriage and just have other shit to do that is too mundane to blog about. Bridezilla stuff.

I urge you that if you are a Heather fan, during my potential forever hiatus, take some time to reread the archives -- EVEN Scott did that and he started using one of my summaries as the tag line for his emails. (Yeah, I do brag about this a little -- I mean, dude, I got to replace Lex Luthor!) The quote he uses is, "To always suspect that people think you're a little weird is one thing, to have them affirm it by covering you in duct tape and throwing you in a dumpster. Well, that's just something else, isn't it?"

Don't get thrown in a dumpster and holla!

So, we've just about finished moving into our new home. And just got internet TODAY -- my marriage may actually last another 2 years after all! (Today is our 2 year anniversary -- we gave each other the internet as a present.)

I have to say that move has been pretty successful over all. We definitely had some bumps, but nothing that was majorly dramatic in the grand scheme of things. The big delay in having the satellite and internet installed was a potential cause for divorce due to the stress and strain Scott was feeling over not being able to communicate with the outside world.

But, we're just about up and running and we may be able to tear ourselves away for long enough to appropriately ring in our anniversary.

I mean, I can stand to be away from the computer for 2 or 3 minutes, no problem. :)

Then and Now

You don't know how far you've been, until you can see where you came from.

This was taken April of 2005 at my friend Theresa's house. Notice how I am putting food in my mouth while bonding. Touching.

This was taken last month at Scott's sister's graduation dinner. Yes, I know my eyes are not open, but I don't have many full body shots as I'm still not really a fan of having pictures taken of my whole body.


And what REALLY gets me is that as sassy as I've been feeling (I mean LOOK at what I got my body to do!), I know that I will look back on this picture and think, "Good LORD -- I can't believe how far I have come since then."

Because the amount of weight I need to lose to fill in the blank for the final picture is the amount I have lost to get to the middle picture.

Crazy, isn't it?

That's right -- I'm halfway there.

Meetin'

Tonight Scott and I went to our first "Meet In Va Beach" event. It's a local organization he found online as a a way for people to, well, meet. The way he initially described it, I was a little apprehensive that it was going to be a swingers thing, but luckily that was not the case. (Not being swingers and all, sorry Lori.)

Anyways, it was at a martini bar in town. When we first got there, we were a little late, so wound up at the Newbies table. We were kind of holding on to our seats a little and waiting to get our toes wet, like the first day of junior high. I think people were a tad surprised when we finally burst out of our shells and started mingling.

Alcohol has a way of doing that sometimes.

Particularly to people who have recently lost weight and don't know their limits, which we both fit in to.

We met tons of people whose names I sort of remember and whose faces I also sort of remember, but I doubt I will be able to put them together again if/when I see them again.

I just can't reiterate enough though how INCREDIBLY exciting it is to have an organization devoted to helping people meet people. It seems like forever that we have been griping that we wish we had a way to meet new people to find fun things to do. While we are occasionally sort of good about generating the fun thing to do, we can't always generate people to do the fun thing with and then it's just me and Scott drunk in a bar. Well, shit -- we can drink at home much cheaper and have the same amount of fun.

We still didn't meet another couple to hang out with, which is the ultimate goal.

That's the thing the single people don't realize. They believe that once you get married, the dating is over. And it sort of is, but then the couple dating begins and that's even harder. Think about how hard it is to find someone to meet your own particular needs and demands. Then multiply that times two to meet the needs and demands of both you and your new soul mate. It ain't easy. It usually turns out that the kind of people you are attracted to in friends are not usually attracted to the same type of mate that you are -- so it's an uneven match. Game over.

Hence all the tv watching that occurs. It's often easier than trying to match up all the parts with other parts.

But, I was talking about the meet-in. (Can you tell the martinis haven't completely worn off yet?) We met a wide variety of people and had quite a few nice but shallow talks with them. I found someone to latch on to (which usually spells disaster) but we also met just other generally super nice people who make us want to go back out and try it again.

I mean after all, aren't we just a group of people who have such a hard time meeting people the traditional way that we resorted to the internet as a way to win friends and influence people? If nothing else, we have that in common, eh?

The Cottage Cheese Conundrum


I have been wanting to introduce a good protein source into my daily diet for a while now. It's important that I mix up my Weight Watchers activity by ways other than cheating sometimes, you understand...

Cottage cheese is excellent source of protein and calcium and so on and thought this would a simple way to reintroduce this into my life without having to use up a lot of daily points. The problem is that cottage cheese looks like cottage cheese and it tastes like cottage cheese and it IS cottage cheese.

I could find something else but really I just have this freakish thing with food. It really goes back to Julia taunting me about an imaginary list that she and her family thought I had. It was a list of 17 things that I would eat -- and only those things because they were the only things I had ever eaten in my life. So, sometimes when I encounter foods that I am not fond of, I feel the need to prove to an imagined audience that I AM willing to eat other things, and that I will even grow to like them -- much to my own surprise. (Frankly, there are many circumstances where I am not willing to test this theory, but this is mostly to do with the portion of the vegetable family known as The Greens. Collard, mustard, kale, in most cases spinach... You get it. And you can have it when you get it, because I'm not going near it.)

Such has become the Cottage Cheese Conundrum.

Because of this thing, I have recently focused my radar on wanting to eat cottage cheese. I think about it more than is normal. (I really need to get a hobby.) I ask people how do THEY manage to eat cottage cheese. And let me tell you, people do STRANGE things with cottage cheese, and I'm not even talking about that really weird sight I found on the internet... No, I have a friend who eats hers with Catalina dressing. I wasn't even willing to consider that.

Here are a couple that I was willing to attempt in my first few attempts. Salt and pepper was suggested and I thought this would play up the cheesy aspect of the situation. Turns out, I must have gotten too free-handed with the salt packet and it just tasted like salty cottage cheese with a dash of pepper. No good.

An earlier attempt almost cured me of the pursuit entirely. Scott had been required to eat mushy food during his early post-operative days, and I had purchased cottage cheese as one of those items. A short time after, I decided to try the cottage cheese and a friend had suggested dried fruit was a good mix-in. I couldn't find that, but I thought blueberries might be a good complement. Turned out that it was more than a short time before when the cottage cheese had been purchased and the last time it was put in the refrigerator, the lid wasn't exactly put all the way on. Let's just say that while I at least finally figured out where that awful smell coming out of the refrigerator was coming from, I was turned off of cottage cheese for a while.

My latest attempt was at the suggestion of a WW friend. Now, I should have taken the suggestion with a grain of the excess salt from my last cottage cheese experiment, but I'm not that smart. (She's given me past suggestions and swore they were so amazing and they were not as much so.) She suggested the direction to go is sweet. Put a dash of vanilla and a bit of splenda and blend it up. It's the best thing ever, you will swear you died and gone to Heaven -- this is what she promised.

Huh, if that was what Heaven was like, think I'll stay on Earth and stick with Heavenly Hash. Granted, the first bite was pretty good but not quite sweet enough so I added a dash more vanilla and that turned out to be too much and then it was a balancing act (add MORE cottage cheese, add more Splenda, etc) to get back to the first almost okay bite... But, who wants to work this hard to eat something that was only moderately okay??

So, that experiment basically used up the last of the tiny experimental container that I purchased.

And then tonight I learned that in order for a serving of cottage cheese to count as a daily serving of dairy (one of WW's good health guidelines is that you should have two servings of dairy a day) you have to consume 2 CUPS! I mean, Jesus -- are you serious? I can barely gag down 2 tablespoons and they're saying I've got to come up with 2 cups? Just the thought makes me want to hurl.

I'm afraid that cottage cheese is going to be headed the way of collard greens on my list of acceptable foods.

hugs,

Heather

PS -- One of the reasons for the long delay is that we just got back from a week long vacay to California. We got to sit like THIS close to Bruce Willis at Koi in LA and I got a tattoo in Venice Beach... I will put up a picture once it heals.

Things are going pretty well in my life these days. I am always a bit reluctant to talk about that, because I really don't want to tempt fate. I think whenever anyone looks over their life, it will often seem as though some of their happiest times are accompanied by some of their saddest. I believe this is just the way life is, though. It rolls up and down and you just can't get too mired in either one of them because it just won't last. And that's not always a negative way of looking at things, because if you believe the good things won't last then it is only natural that the bad things won't either.

The reason that I am talking about this here now though is not to wax philosophic about how important it is to appreciate these things, but rather to talk about the enviers. The haters, if you will. Into every life haters must come, but I really want to know how to get them to go.

Scott and I both have friends who envy what we have and seem to want to have a similar niche of their own. A place to call home, a person that makes you feel at home -- as a friend of mine recently wrote me,"you really do have it all now, the man, the house, the horse, the sunset, the picket fence, the vineyard..." (Don't worry, she wasn't one of the "haters", she was just being facetious.) But these other friends, they wistfully mourn their station in life, but seem to make NO moves to trying to improve the situation. I mean, my feeling is that at least you could start by improving your attitude. Just try being happy for a minute, see if you like it. If you're not, why not fix it? Why are you envying what other people have instead of trying to get a life of your own that fits you and makes you happy?

I do not understand this.

I'm not going to put myself on a pedastel. I didn't work incredibly hard to get where I am and have what I have. It's not like I had to skip by a pair of shoes I desperately coveted in order to get my credit straightened out or to by this house. I did have to live with my parents for a few years, but hell I needed to get straightened out a little bit. And while I married a man who believes he is Superman, he is no more perfect than I am. Or you are. He's just perfect for me. And the thing that I learned is that you have to be open-minded in who you think is right for you. Most of my closest friends are married to people that I deeply believe that if someone had told them a year before they met them that they would be the man they married... They would have laughed. Outrageously. One of my best friends is relatively old-fashioned and has an "old soul" and she married someone 8 years younger than she is. Another's politics lean so far to the left that they almost circle back around again and she is married to one of the biggest Bush defenders I have every met.

So, you just never know.

I don't know... I guess no matter how hard I try, I can't fight the feeling that I am doing something wrong by being happy and revelling in how good things are right now. It really makes me feel guilty... Is that crazy? I mean, why should I tailor my emotions to not make other people feel bad? Is it wrong that I want to climb every mountain and all of that other crap out of musicals??

I just want to gloat, is that so wrong?? :)

The Fairytale Birthday Story for the 2 people who hadn't already heard...

It would be difficult to fathom that there is anyone left who has NOT heard this story, but just in case... (Copied and pasted from the email I sent out to all my peeps.)

For those of you who have heard the story ad nauseum, my apologies and you can skip to the link at the bottom.

My birthday was Thursday. (33 for those of you counting.) There was a lot of build-up going into it, because Scott was tense and worrying over my present. He was really worried that I wasn't going to like it. He was so worked up about it, that I was really getting anxious with anticipation. I kept throwing out things that it could be and they got wilder and wilder. My first really wild guess was a car. Scott just laughed and said, "Yeah, I got that witht the 30,000 I've been keeping under the mattress."

My second wilder guess was a house. We've been shopping for houses extensively over the last few weeks and we're pretty fried. Scott says, "Are you just adding 0's to the ridiculousness? And another thing, just WHO do you think you're married to?"

Then, on Wednesday night I had a dream that he bought me a vineyard. Yes, you read that right -- I said vineyard. Look, I had a lot of wine the night before, and I have always loved the movie French Kiss. Well, you can only imagine just how amused he was about that. He couldn't stop laughing about it, and he seemed to be really concerned about my mental state.

All in all, my day was good. I took the day off of work and had an appointment with a psychic. I won't get in to that, because that's a whole OTHER email. I almost managed to fit into a size smaller jeans and dress size AND found a dress to wear to Scott's sister's graduation the end of this month. Spent some time shopping with Mom and then Scott and I met up with some friends at Outback for dinner.

Now, I should have guessed that something was up when the sanctity of our marriage was threatened if I even shuffled the bag the gift sat in on our kitchen table. I should have further suspected when Scott casually suggested that some of our out of town friends should come in for a Thursday night dinner.

So, we're sitting at the table in the restaurant and he presents me with the bag of gifts. The first a tiara, because every Princess needs to have her tiara. Ever since the house hunting began and my list of demands in a home grew ever longer, I have been referred to as The Princess. I hate to admit that this title is truly far more fitting than The Queen, but what're you gonna do? We all have a good laugh over the tiara and then I was directed to pull the next gift out of the bag. That was this beautiful crystal castle. The castle was sitting up on a bluff and there was a mirror below it that reflects this magnificent amount of light. I really thought it was quite awesome and was very pleased that I finally had my castle.

I assumed this was The Gift.

I was wrong.

Scott said to reach in and feel around the bottom because there was one more gift. There was a rolled up stack of photographs printed off from the computer, and the first page said, "Princess Heather's New Home -- Happy Birthday!"

It was THE house. My amazing, wonderful husband had bought me THE house for my birthday.

THE house that we had looked at two previous times that when I walked in my heart sang and danced because I knew I was home. I had found a place that we could really build our life together in and enjoy and savor. The first time we saw it, Scott didn't like it as much as I did, but after all of the red-headed step-children we saw after the first time, suddenly he was able to appreciate the beauty of the home. But, we were going through a bumpy time getting the loan end of it straight, and Scott thought it would be best if we waited to make an offer until we were SURE that it was going to work out. The next day, after our second visit, he called me at work and broke the news that the sellers had already gotten one offer and were also entertaining a second offer that they really liked. I was heartbroken, but he convinced me that we would find another house. When it was meant to be.

Sneaky, eh? Yeah, he was the second offer they liked better. Turns out, we made quite an impression on our second visit because we actually got to meet the sellers. When they received the first offer, they had their realtor call our realtor to find out if we were going to make an offer because "they really liked us and wanted us to have the house." ( Allegedly, this is an unusual occurrence in the real estate world. Sellers vying for specific buyers.)

So, Scott gave me a house for my birthday and it must have been quite a spectacle to behold. I don't even remember much because as soon as I saw the title of the photo, I began weeping uncontrollably. Non-stop sobbing that I am sure must have alarmed many of the Outback patrons, not to mention my dining companions.

And that is the story of my fairytale birthday and here is the link to the house at the REIN sight. You can't read the description without buying the pass, but the pictures are out there and I'm sure that's what most folks want to see anyways. We close on June 30th and hope to have the blender whirring for a housewarming by early fall. We'll see what develops! :)

love and kisses to all,

Heather
Link: www.hrmls.com

PS: Turns out the crystal castle was brought to me in part due to the overwhelming generosity of Scott's dad and stepmom. Special shout-out to Pops and Linda -- thanks for being such an amazing part of the day, it truly is a story to share with your grandchildren one day.

Grandchildren?! Wow, this house really is messing with my head! :)

(PS BLOGGEES: Perhaps moving into and furnishing a new house will FINALLY give me something to blog about!)

If you're happy and you know it...

Today is my 33rd birthday, and I'm giving myself a present. From today on, I am going to accept being happy -- truly, deeply happy -- when I am happy and really learn to enjoy it and appreciate it. For too long in my life, I have downplayed the happiness I frequently feel in my life because of my various self-esteem issues. But, from today on I will enjoy being happy when I am happy -- especially knowing that it's never promised.

I think many people down play their joy. They feel undeserving or they feel arrogant or they just don't want to jinx it. Too much of the good stuff goes by because I don't stop to even realize how happy I am when I am. It's so cliche'd about stopping to smell the roses, but it's true.

Because when I'm not happy, because I'm angry or sad or bored or frustrated, Lord knows that I revel in that feeling and do not act like I don't feel that way. But for some reason, I feel almost shameful in my happiness, like it's wrong for me to appreciate the wonderful gifts that I have in my life.

Clapping my hands...

I'm not going to promise that I'm going to be a faithful blogger and that I'll be true. I can't give as much to the relationship as I used to. There's only so much of me to give and there's only so many stories.

We've been house-shopping, which is frankly terrifying. In the last week, we were dating a house but it left us for a higher offer. Who could blame it?

The house wasn't great, but it had lots of potential.

Now, we've found a house that has lots more than potential, but I don't know if it's going to work out. We're trying to get our ducks in a row with the financing after our mortgage rep shit the bed, as Scott says, and don't want to make a move on a 3rd house until we get something straight on our other two. We're old-fashioned that way. :)

But, I am really praying that things work out with this house. I just love it. It is our home. I just walk in and my heart does a little dance. It's a decent size but not huge. It's cozy and the kitchen is off the hook. If it doesn't work out, I may never meet another kitchen that inspires me as much as that one.

I mean, I actually WANT to cook.

And then after I cook, I could go relax in our amazing hot tub on our 3 layer deck.

Sigh.

I'm really trying not to get my hopes up, because apparently there's another offer out there.

Someone is vying for the hand of my house.

And I can't blame them.

I hope it doesn't become the house that got away. I've had that experience before and I was so let down that I wound up settling for this house. I mean, my street name is indicative of that, for pity's sake.

Keep everything you have two of crossed and I will let you know how it turns out.

If Tyranny and Oppression come to this land, it will be in the guise of fighting a foreign enemy.

-James Madison, fourth US president (1751-1836)

We cannot defend freedom abroad by deserting it at home. -Edward R. Murrow,journalist (1908-1965)

One of the oldest human needs is having someone to wonder where you are when you don't come home at night.

-Margaret Mead, anthropologist(1901-1978)

Kindness is not without its rocks ahead. People are apt to put it down to an easy temper and seldom recognize it as the secret striving of a generous nature; whilst, on the other hand, the ill-natured get credit for all the evil they refrain from.

-Honore De Balzac, novelist (1799-1850)

Here's something I never expected... It really makes feel weird the way people react to me losing weight. It's becoming more noticeable (I would hope so, since it's almost 40 pounds now), but it's strange how people react. Mostly as though my weight loss were some kind of statement about where they were in their own weight loss journey.

If I had had bunches of smoker friends when I severely cut back on smoking, I think I would have some expectation that this was going to happen. People feel judged because they think you are commenting on their own limitations, even though you're not. I'm not.

I know how hard it is to start fixing your bad habits. I had to get pretty far into the 2's before I realized that. I didn't want to watch my portions and I didn't want to eat more fruits and vegetables. I didn't want to bring my lunch to work every day. And I damned well didn't want to exercise.

I didn't want to change.

And I know I probably reacted to other people changing in a similar way to how people react to me. That's weird too.

There's a woman at work who was going to go with me to WW a while back and wound up changing her mind. Now whenever I go up to say hello to her, if she is eating anything she tries to explain why she's eating it. Explains why she isn't going to a meeting this week. Whatever. I don't get it. If you're not ready, you're not ready.

Even when people are happy for me, their happy comments are generally followed with, "I know, I need to do something..." Or the newly popular, "I think you're sending it my way." Come on now, is that right?

Does anyone care how hard it is to stay motivated to keep losing weight when I can't even drop a pants size??

Let me say this once -- I have lost weight, this is not a comment about you. I mean, seriously -- have you met me? Don't you know it's all about me???

another rambling post about how much Heather loves her female friendships

Had the medical issue in the house this week with Scott. Sorry to those of you who don't know the complete details, but rest assured that it is all okay and he's doing much better now.

It was surreal on many levels, but really one of the strangest things is that he chose not to share the thing with any of his friends. Obviously, he's much more private than I am -- duh, he's not publishing HIS private thoughts on the world wide web -- but still, to not need that support?? It's weird to me.

Me, I shared his private ordeal with most of my closest friends and some who don't even qualify for that title. Not because I wanted to blabber about his private life, which I certainly do feel bad about, but because I needed (as they say in the Verizon ads) "the network." I needed to know that I would have people to call on when shit went down. I needed to know that people would be there for me to talk me down from it and help me get through my feelings.

I needed the women.

I always need the women, and I do talk about this all the time and I don't care. The older I get, the more and more and more I cherish the women and love the women and appreciate how much deep female friendships have enriched my life and made me the woman I am today. If I didn't have someone holding my hand or cheering me on during the phases in my life, how can I hope to have the strength to hold their hand and cheer them on? Anyone. Women, especially "MY" women, are awesome and wonderful and fanstastic mythical beings. I just don't know what I would do without the women. To worry, to stop the worry, whatever -- they just know.

Thank you, my women -- I love you all and feel so eternally indebted to you and what you give to my life. We get sentimental and ridiculous about how much we mean to each other all the time, but it's just like any other sacred relationship -- we should cherish it and relish it because not many people are as lucky as we are to have each other.

Why I shouldn't drink wine, start my period and watch Oprah... or maybe, why I should....


Warning: This is going to be long and rambly. More so than usual.

I started my period today and I've been sleep deprived, so it's been edgier than it normally would. I decided to come home and drink some wine and watch an Oprah that's been on the tivo for a while. It's the one about the families on the debt diet. Something that I know I should do, but Lord how many diets can one person go on??

This week there was a psychologist getting behind the psychological reasons that these families got themselves into so much trouble. The second family really hit home with me. The mom spoils the daughters and gives them everything they want. The psychologist Dr. Laura Smith says that this is actually abusive because by not setting boundaries for our children, then we are laying the groundwork for consequences that are putting our lives at risk. Not our physical lives, necessarily, but our future because we are facing a future of debt. Oprah says the mom is living unconciously because she doesn't realize that she is walking through life and not really thinking about the consequences of her actions.

The woman says that she just wants to do right by her kids and give them everything. Dr. Laura and Oprah try to get her to see that there are consequences to these actions, but the woman has a hard time seeing it because her parents did it for her. And what she's going through now, they say to her, IS the consequences. Dr. Laura says we do not need to raise any more young girls who are looking for jeans and clothes and men to fill their spiritual void.

And bam -- epiphany.

Everyone knows I was married before to a man I met when I was 18 who was emotionally (and sometimes otherwise) abusive to me. When I left home and then the state to be with this man, no one understood why. I was a good girl and a had the whole world in front of me and I threw it all away. Frankly, I never really understood why I did what I did. But, now I think about how spoiled I was when I was growing up. Just about anything that I wanted, I got. I had some boundaries, but not when it came to getting stuff. Because when my parents, especially my mother, were growing up their parents were poor and couldn't really give them much and they didn't want me to grow up like that. They wanted to give me what they didn't have. But as a result, I didn't know that there were consequences to them giving me whatever I wanted. By the time I realized it, it was too late. They had filed for bankruptcy and I was long on the road to being involved in this bad relationship.

I am not blaming my parents for what happened. It was their intention to give me good life and not make me "want" for anything. But, the fact is that as a result of that, I was constantly looking for something to fill that void. And as soon as I thought I found it, I jumped in head first. And when that relationship was lacking, I was so completely lacking in self-worth that I didn't think I deserved to be out of it. The consequences.

It's interesting to think that by giving our kids everything they want, that really we are creating them to only want more and never be satisfied. Never be full.

Yes, I know I don't have kids and maybe it's not right for me to preach about that. But, I do know that I have had an eye-opening experience and if I ever do have kids, I hope I keep this knowledge...

It's a funny thing about watching the Oprah and drinking the wine and all that. It always gets me thinking and wrapped up in my evolution as a person. One of the downsides of the evolution is that while I can still talk funny, I have a hard time writing funny anymore. I'm back to the days when writing was a haven for me and made me more reflective and made me really think about things that have happened and how they affect me and the people around me. It's a shame that this writing has become public, but that was my choice.

Oprah fucks with my head, but definitely in a good way.

Anyways, I though this would be longer but my current spiritual crisis is involving laundry and that's gotta be done. If I didn't have to do laundry, I could rule the world.

Fun quote from Rita Rudner: "I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life."

Happy Friday, all!

Lori: tried to post the answers to the how boyish are you quiz and wouldn't copy over to blogspot. Bummer, but I got 60/40 boyish.

This week in Fat Church

Wow. Fat Church was off the hook this week. There were tears shed and the emotions were flying high. We always dance around the discussion of the emotional side of our weight gain, but really got into it full on when one of the members asked our leader, "why do I keep doing the things that I do?"

This led to a discussion of how difficult it can be for some people to be seen in a new, thinner light. They're not used to the attention and it makes them uncomfortable. Our leader shared a story about a woman who had lost 75 pounds and still had more to lose, but then started putting the weight back on. She finally confessed in a meeting that she didn't like people noticing her, it made her uncomfortable. A woman in our meeting tonight confessed that she felt guilty about the weight that she had lost because of her family being overweight. When she's with them, she eats because she feels ashamed.

I can relate to this more than people would believe about me. Sure, I'm an attention hog and like to stir things up. But, the truth is that I only like the attention I ask for, and when I don't want anyone to notice me then I shut down the Heather Show. And for a long time, when I was 35 pounds heavier, it was really easy to turn that off because I was invisible. No one notices you when you are overweight. People just don't see you. And you don't get the same "perks" that thinner people get.

I resent that. People come up to me now and will comment on how much weight I've lost and all that, and it is great that they are doing that. It is nice that people are noticing a difference, but it's also weird. Unless you have ever lost a significant amount of weight, you just cannot understand what it's like to have people look at you in the before and after.

And really, I couldn't understand what it was like to see myself in the before and after. Because even though I know that I am the same person that I was last August when I started doing Weight Watchers, I'm really not. I'm a better version of that person. Not because I'm thinner, being thinner doesn't make me a better person. But it's the dedication to improving my lifestyle that is the change.

Another woman tonight talked about all of the various times that she had lost big amounts of weight. She said that one of the more successful times, she really took the time to get to know who she was along the way. She knew who she was 20 pounds lighter, 30 pounds lighter and so on. And I'm learning that, too. I know what I can do, and what I am capable of and how much more I know I will be able to do.

I really need to take some pictures. Because I keep thinking that if I already think that I look pretty good now, and I'm less than halfway there... How good am I going to think I look when I get down to my goal weight?

And I'm really not sure what my goal weight is anymore. Because we have a range that we can be in and while it's easy to focus on being at the higher end of the range, I don't know if Future Heather is going to be satisfied with taking the easy way out. So, I'm going to let her decide what to do when I get closer. I have a lot of confidence in Future Heather and I can't wait to meet her!

Sorry, I always get preachy after going to Church. :)

quotes

Many people that know me know that I collect quotes.

If you didn't know, I do and would love to have you send me some.

My email address is the queen lee at g mail dot com -- not going to include the actual link for obvious reasons.

Here's one I stumbled across that I LOVE:

You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do. -Anne Lamott, writer(1954- )

grrrr

Okay, I'm mad. I've never really been one to get my dander up over the politics of the nation. Some of my good friends have lived overseas and have long gone on about how much America is hated and how greedy, nasty, awful we are, etc. And frankly, I was always a bit blase about the whole thing. Yeah, we suck -- so what?

But, this is getting ridiculous.

Have you heard about Senator Russ Feingold? I'm telling you right now that I am sincerely hoping this is the man running for '08. He is calling for the censure of President Bush because of the illegal wire tapping that Bush has authorized without approval. On American citizens.

I know that if you don't watch Fox news you know a bunch about this already.

I won't bore you with the details.

The fact is that it is disgusting. But then it gets worse. Sen. Wayne Allard from CO basically accused Sen. Feingold of consorting with terrorists because of the call for censure.

I'm sorry but if you disagree with the government that makes you a terrorist??

Does that mean that when Clinton was in office and all of the Republicans disagreed with him that THEY were terrorists??

There is no clear, concise way for me to express just how morally outraged and disgusted I am by this entire administration. When is it going to end? When is SOMEONE going to say that this arrogant, lying, candy-assed pig has gone too far???

And we live in a country of people who overwhelming voted him into office. AGAIN. How is that possible? When did American people stop caring about what it means to be American?

I have heard this time and time again and I fully agree that terrorism is the new Communism. It's the latest accusation you can throw on someone in order to sully their reputation. But, terrorism is even scarier because we saw EXACTLY what terrorists are made of on 9/11. Keep the fear going, keep the people feeding on the fear and as long as they are afraid then they will do whatever you say.

The people will go along with your ignoring the poor people in New Orleans when the levees are about the break. The people will allow you to continue on a path to financial ruin to continue a war that doesn't make sense. The people will let you listen to their private phone calls and conversations because you might be a terrorist.

It's outrageous. And we're just fucking lying down. Lying down and letting it happen.

Go to moveon.org, people. Sign the petition to have Bush censored. Or call your Senator and tell them you support this. Do something, stop lying down.

I'm telling you that if you don't respect your own rights, no one will.

Si-moan Graduates


This week I graduated from my strippercize class.

Over the course of 5 classes, I learned how to do a lap dance for my boy. (Or, technically, to anyone's boy I suppose, but not sure how Scott would feel abou that.) The last two classes are strictly devoted to learning a routine to a song (Darling Nikki).

Last week, I tried to practice one night when I had some alone time but shortly into my practice session the doorbell rang and it scared the crap out of me so bad that I couldn't practice anymore. I felt like a kid getting caught masturbating... Which, may have been because I think I was at that part of the routine, but whatever.

So, we continue to perfect the routine on Thursday night and I even got my own demonstration from the instructor. Wow. I was supposed to be paying attention and learning the moves, but when the moves were actually up on me it was pretty hard. That night, we were admonished to practice like 20 times before we actually showed off.

Needless to say, the whole waiting to do things has never really been a strong suit for me.

I came home and Scott was fully expecting to get the show that night. Even sent his friend home before I got there, and that was huge. I was kind of tired and sore, but one look at him and I knew that it was destined to be game on. So, I got showered and cleaned up and put on my costume for the show.

Meanwhile, he's looking for scarved to put over the lamp downstairs and trying to get the mood all right. I come down and start the show as the song starts to play.

Of course, I messed up a few parts, but since he didn't know the choreographing behind it had no idea and really seemed not to care. And then, midway through I -- in TRUE Heather fashion -- managed to pull my calf muscle. And this was right before a part where I had to put my legs up in his lap and grind in the air. (You think reading it sounds incredible, try actually doing it. Then trying doing it without laughing or screaming in pain.) Anyways, I made it through without messing it up too much and my money shot was... Well, it was on the money!

[Definition of "money shot" to the uninitiated: In stripper-ese, the money shot involves getting down on your knees and putting your ass straight up into the air while the front half of your body is almost flat on the floor. When done correctly it is grossly obscene and quite painful. If you have an occasion to be in a strip club and you see a stripper performing this, please pay her well -- it ain't easy being that sleazy.]

All in all, it was quite worth it. As much money as that class was, I now have something in my bag of tricks that I can pull out and perform whenever things need to be stirred up.

My fellow dancers will be signing up again for Round 2, but I'm not sure I have it in me. I couldn't walk straight the next day and was definitely hurting all over.

And that wasn't even from the dance routine... ;-)

mmm... let's give them nothing to talk about...

This is one of most favorite ironic things to talk about -- the fact that there's nothing to talk about. The Librarian and I have been talking ad nauseum this week about how there's nothing to talk about. A fact she's been dying to talk to me about.

With all of this talking, how can there not be any talking??

But, it's the same with the bloggins, so feel free to interchange the words if you care to know why it's been a year since I last posted.

Now that she and I are in the early, no kid years of our marriages, we have no drama. There is nothing to talk about. He's going to call, he's going to email, he already proposed, but he still won't put the bag in the trashcan when he takes out the trash -- if he takes out the trash. But, really, how much can you talk about that?

Sunshine is pouring out of my ass and I'm watching way too much tv and whatever -- there is nothing to talk about. I really think this is why I may be a better listener than I ever used to be -- I'm not constantly trying to interrupt with my own stories. I don't have any stories.

I firmly believe that people get bored with all of the lack of drama and decide to have the kids in order to spice it up. Once you have the kids, you will NEVER run out of things to talk about. Money and food and sanity -- yes, you'll run out of that, but who cares about that as long as you have conversational fodder?!

I often wonder if I'm strong enough to ride out the lack of drama and really stick to my "no kids" thing. Because no matter how many times many of you tell me I want/need/should have the kids, I really do not feel a yearning. The Librarian (who needs a new nickname -- how about KSquare? Kind of like K Fed. SHUT UP!) says if I don't want to have the kids, I shouldn't have the kids and really I should just shut up about it. (Okay, I'm not sure if she said the shut up about it part, but she doesn't have her own blog so whatever.)

But, it's on my mind because I feel like it should be, and I know that Scott wants them and I know how left out I'm going to feel when all of my kids have the kids and I don't and then what a slave to peer pressure I am because Lord knows I don't have time to go out and make new friends or I would have done that already...

Hey, at least it gives me something to talk about!

So, what do people in mostly happy, normal (well, normal for us) relationships talk about before they have the kids? TV? Books? Other people's kids? I really can't picture myself getting upset because Malcolm didn't get into the right preschool -- so, he'll have to eat paste at home, what IS the big deal?

Anyways, when my Strippercize class debuts their routine on the catwalk of JB's, THEN I'll have something to talk about...

life lessons by heather

1. Parkinson's is not sexy. We did a LOT of leg work in strippercize tonight and when I tried to walk out to my car, I looked like a younger, blonder, yet shakier Katherine Hepburn.

2. When you do little things to try to make your life easier, it only makes it harder than it was before you made it easier. Simple case in point: I moved my gum to its own little house in my purse and now I can't remember that it's there so it takes me twice as long to find my gum. I know -- would that all of our problems were this big.

3. When you lose weight, it doesn't happen all over your body at the same time. So, now while my torso is getting smaller, my ass is still huge and looks like someone grabbed it and their hand prints stayed.

4. Do not think that you will only read "one chapter" when you are more than halfway through the book. It's not like books usually get worse at this point and then you're an hour and a half past your bedtime.

5. Do not piss off your boss after she just got her ass chewed by her boss. You will wind up with 3 times the work load to start off your day than what you thought.

6. You never get tired of people asking you if you lost weight, so keep wearing your baggy clothes long after it's appropriate. When they fall off when walking, downsize and start over.

7. You will never feel sexy (ooops, sexxxy) if you eat anything gassy before going to stripper class -- or oddly enough, if you put gas in your car before arriving. Putting gas in and letting it out are both equally unsexy.

8. Drinking 4 shots before starting the class helps alleviate this a lot.

9. You should always appreciate how easy it is to lift your hairdryer, you never know when this will become a difficult task.

10. And finally... Do not tell your man you are taking a stripper class because he will want you to come home and rubup-up, rubup-up, rubup-up on his ding dong and all you want to do is eat some ding dongs.

Less than 2

Tonight was a monumental night. I hit the 30 pound mark in weight loss and that means that I went below that ugly number that started with a 2.

You know, you never think you're going to get to a point in your life where your weight will start with a 2, much less that far into it. I know I did not. The worst part is that I did not immediately make a change once it got that far. I was in denial. I thought if I told myself enough times that I was happy and healthy that it would be okay. I would do something about it one day. But, one day didn't come until more than a year later...

And even though I did not have anything medically wrong with me at my high weight, I know that couldn't have lasted. But, the best part is that I feel so much better all of the time. I have so much more energy, I feel so much more engaged. Even when I do have days where I still feel lacking in confidence, they don't seem to take me to the same down in the dumps level that I used to get to before. The point where I was just feeling worthless. I mean truly worthless. Being overweight sucks, but particularly when our society values youth and beauty as much as it does.

Take for example the Strippercize class. A friend emailed me after she read that I was taking the class, expressing her envy that I was taking the class and how hard she thought it would be to be that sexy. (Sorry for the paraphrase, J.) And this is a friend that pretty much has the market cornered on sexy, so that's saying a lot. She talked about what she would dance to and would she wind up looking hot and said that yes, she does think about these things and presumes I must too because I'm taking the class.

Actually, I'm taking the class because another friend asked me to join with her. I'm taking the class because Scott said it would benefit the whole family. I'm taking the class because I was feeling a little arrogant about the level of my physical fitness since I started walking 30 minutes a day. That last one really cracks me up, because really you would think I was ready to run a marathon the way I talk about my 30 minutes walking daily. But, for me? 30 minutes 5 days a week?

I mean, have you met me??

Anyways, because I had to go through Stripper Special Ed, I wasn't feeling overly confident about myself. I was definitely the biggest girl in the class, and unfortunately for the girl behind me, I was probably the only girl with gas in the class. (Sorry Star, Moon, Flower, whoever you were.) But, the thing is that in the past that kind of blow to my ego would have been impossible for me to get over. I might not have even wanted to go back to the class again, despite shelling out the money in advance to go.

But, I'm trying not to be that girl anymore. I want to be the confident girl. And part of that is going to involve taking chances and taking risks that aren't always going to work out.

So, I lost the 2 and now it's down to 1. Me. And the never ending journey to discovery and more blog fodder.

happy valentine's day oh favorite people of mine

I was perusing VideoDog at Salon.com. (That's here. ) And there was this movie short called Are you the favorite person of anybody? This was sort of interesting.

If you don't want to watch it, basically the guy is conducting a survey and asks, "Are you the favorite person of anybody?" And then has the confused person rate the certainty of their answers on a scale of very certain, pretty certain, i think so, maybe, not certain at all.

It made me think -- am I the favorite person of anybody? I mean, I would say there are plenty of people who like me and a handful of them would even go so far as to say I would be one of their favorites -- but the favorite? That's a lot of pressure. If you say one person is your favorite, then that discounts all of the other people. That's why even at the ripe old age of 32 I can't commit to having just one best friend and have two instead. Which basically disqualifies the whole notion of best, huh?

The obvious answer (particularly on this day of mush and gush) is my husband is my favorite person. And even though it really is true, how cliche'd is that?

And then how much pressure to be someone's FAVORITE person? I mean, who could live up to that? Everyone has bad days and gets gas and gets cranky and whatever. Does the bad stuff exist in your favorite people? Do you only see your favorite people once a decade (I was going to say millenium but I'm trying to cut down on my "dramaticism") and that's how they remain your favorites? How much contact do you have with favorite people? Can they keep the momentum going or do you change the favorite status from time to time?

What makes someone your FAVORITE person?

I'm deciding that I'm against this favorite person thing. Too much pressure to put on one person. Perhaps favorite people by category, I can live with that. "Favorite Friend in a Dramatic Role." "Favorite Friend to Coerce You into Smoking when you swore you quit." "Favorite Relative -- local." "Favorite Husband." "Favorite Boss."

Yeah. Be someone's Favorite in a category and continue to strive for mediocrity!

Question?

Why is that I feel guilty when I go off and do things without Scott despite the fact that when I am home and we are in the same house together hanging out he largely plays video games or watches tv?

It's not like we are creating some intimate environment of togetherness when we are here at the same time, so why not go out and play sometimes without the guilt?

Not sure.

The Week in Heather Review

Last week was very strange.

Started out with me not getting the promotion that I had applied for and had that lame interview that I wrote about. I was disappointed but didn't realize how much so until I called Scott and got teary about it -- while on the treadmill, which is a weird combination to begin with. He was so great, I remembered why I married him all over again. Kept telling me how proud of me he was for trying to apply and all that. And then he sent me flowers that same day, which is pretty amazing since it was about 3:00 when I talked to him and they got there by 4:30. This beautiful little arrangement with a card that simply said, "I Still Believe." Aww, then I was REALLY gonna cry. :)

Already had a sushi date planned with a friend which was a wonderful pick-me-up. I love sushi and we went to my favorite place in town where the guy claims he is the Eel King. Which is awesome because I love eel! Good times.

Tuesday night was my Statistics class and I may have finally found a class "buddy" which is what always makes my classes go by so much better. I don't always find one and it makes me feel so strange.

Wednesday night was Weight Watchers and finally started going back down again. I say finally like I had been climbing up but I was (and still am) at the turning point of a big number that I really want to go under, if only I would stop sabotaging myself right before I'm about to drop below it!

Thursday night was stripper-cize. Yup, strippercize. That really should be a blog unto itself. My dancer name (which I hope is not supposed to be super top secret) is SiMoan, which I get a kick out of. And I had fun, but also realized (again) that I am fairly retarded when it comes to being sexy. Sorry, sexxxy. I reach in to tap into my super sexy self and get nothing. So, I had to have stripper special ed because I couldn't get the walk right, couldn't even spin in a circle right and definitely couldn't grind all the way down to a "one" position. In fact, I had to stay in three the whole time.

The instructors are actually former dancers from this area and they are extremely wonderful and supportive. The hallway leading up to the dance studio is literally vagina pink and there are notes all over the walls from past graduates gushing about how grateful they are for being shown their sexiness. Hope this happens to me. Then, the studio itself is lit by blacklights and there are a few poles dispensed throughout. Yup, those kinds of poles. We learn that on our third lesson.

Anyone that wants more info about the class, let me know because it is definitely a great work out and lots of fun -- but hard! I am still experiencing a large amount of pain in what I have recently learned is where my quads are.

Then last night I hung out with my friend Debbie and we drank too much and laughed a lot and that was awesome. We went to a frou-frou martini bar called Fresh and then went to a more low key Mexican place near by called Guadalara. Good times, but I have feeling that it's going to show up in a bad way on the scale on Wednesday night.

And now, this morning I am headed for a facial. Yay! I've been wanting one for a long time and can't wait to see what they excavate from my pores! OH, there's where the Lindbergh baby has been...

Hugs to all -- sorry it's taken me so long to do a catchup.

Have you called your mother today?

Okay, I haven't called mine but that's because, duh, she can't hear. (For those of you who did not know that, it's lost its sadness over time so there is no need to go "awwww...") But, I did get the guilt trip last night for how infrequently she sees me.

It started out innocently enough. She asked if I had gotten the promotion I applied for at work. I said that I still had not heard anything and that she definitely would have heard from me if I had. And she said that no, not necessarily because... Why IS it that she only sees me 45 minutes a week?

I really hate getting caught in my bullshit. It's such a bad feeling, isn't it?

Immediately, the excuses bubble up and that just makes me feel worse. I know that I really am all that she has, that's really not a complete guilt trip -- it's just a fact. I believe that she decided it was going to be that way, but it still is what it is. After Dad died, lots of people were calling and asking about her and would have gladly started hanging out with her, but she didn't want to. She was very emphatic about it. So, now I am her main source of any kind of socializing.

NO pressure!

I think about other people that I know and their relationships with their mothers. I know I see my mom more regularly than a lot of people I know simply because I live in the same state and the same town. And no, I don't spend tons of time with her, but I wouldn't say that I have tons of time to give.

Oy, more excuses. So, to make it worse, when I got home from my too long Statistics class last night, I had an email from her basically telling me to disregard our conversation because it was pitiful for her to ask me to spend more time with her when I apparently didn't want to spend more time with her than I already was. (Hmm, Mom you have a little passive aggressive on your chin there, you might want to get that...)

I mean, seriously...? You're going to go there and then finish by saying you didn't want me to feel guilty. Riiiight.

Yes, I know I should spend more time, okay? But, her house is boring -- it's an antiques store and there is no tv for public consumption. NONE. We have to sit and talk the entire visit. How much is there to say? What new topics can be explored when my life changes so little from day to day??

I'm frustrated with her... And I am still running the roll in my head of my friends and their relationships with their mothers. Doesn't see regularly, doesn't see regularly, doesn't talk to, doesn't talk to much, tries to get away with three visits a year, and so on. And the last one was my own father!!

So, have you called your mother today? Because she's not going to be around forever you know and one day you'll be sorry...

Oy.

First They Came for the Jews

First they came for the Jews
and I did not speak outbecause I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the Communists
and I did not speak outbecause I was not a Communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists
and I did not speak outbecause I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for me
and there was no one left
to speak out for me.

Pastor Martin Niemöller


I've been thinking about this a lot lately. We live in a country where our president thinks it's okay to eavesdrop on you if you belong to a group of people who meet and speak freely about your disagreements with American policies, just because you happen to be of Muslim faith.

We live in a country where Brokeback Mountain is in the top 10 in the movie theaters, just won a Golden Globe -- and yet our Congress is trying to pass a Constitutional Amendment stating that a marriage is between a man and a woman.

We live in a country where our President goes to war for one reason, claims a victory that didn't happen and then changes the reason for continuing the war and the American people just blindly go along with it.

The rich are getting richer, the poor are getting poorer and people who's homes washed away with the hurricanes are ignored because they're poor.

And no one really seems to care. Because, they're Christian and heterosexual and reasonably affluent so it's not affecting them.

Well, when it does affect you, who's going to care about speaking up for you? There won't be anyone left.

And I can type away at my blog soapbox while watching all of my guilty pleasure tv, and what have I done?

First they came for the Muslims...

Lame Interviews and Fat Church

I interviewed for an internal promotion today. It's a teeny step and not even something I'm honestly sure I wanted, but... I was ridiculously nervous during the interview. Ridiculous. I could not think of the answers to anything and really think I blew it. This makes me think that if/when we do move to Charlotte, I'm afraid that Scott is going to have to get some amazing job because I don't want to interview for another job ever again.

Think of a time it was critical that you understood someone. What? I'm not a General, I'm not handling bombs, what kind of situation could come up that is critical that I understood someone? And I just gave the lamest answers. I just wanted to crawl under the table or better yet just leave. Yup, that's all I've got folks. There are no good answers in here. My job is not critical. And the other questions were equally as generic and yet almost life or death related. (Not that I can remember them because my brain has been erased by the stress and then relief that at least it's over with.) Sigh.

It's one thing to think you don't interview well, it's another to know.

And then I went to Fat Church, which is only what I call it in my head as we are not allowed to use the F-word at Weight Watchers. I realized on the way home that I haven't really written about how that's going in a while, which is funny to me for some reason. (A lot of things are funny to me for some reason, most of which generally are not funny to other people.) When I wrote the highlights of 2004, I had a hard time finding posts that weren't about losing weight. I bet you're thinking that I haven't been doing it, that I fell off the wagon. But, that's not true. It's really just that it's become part of my life, part of my routine. So, I'm still losing weight (down 27 pounds), and I'm happy about it but I try not to be so focused on it in my conversation all the time...

Not that I'm always successful. See, Weight Watchers has become my church and I guess that makes the scale my demi-god that I pray in front of weekly. I make sacrifices for my "god" and I try to live a life that my god would approve of. The meeting leader is life the preacher and she gives sermons and words that we are to live by. I feel uplifted when I leave and ready to stay on track. The people all have similar belief systems and some of them are more strident in their beliefs than others. We offer each other strength and encouragement. We spread the word to "outsiders" and try to get new members. It IS Fat Church and I really do love it. Because, how can I not? 27 pounds is a lot of weight to put down and I have a ways to go but don't even feel discouraged or scared by that because I know it's going to be okay.

word of the day

From one of our most favorite guilty pleasure shows, Beauty and the Geek, this word comes from one of the beauties. I don't remember the exact quote, but it was something like she has over 200 pairs of shoes and handbags and whenever she sees a pair of shoes she really likes she has a shoegasm.

shoegasm: n.

1. The peak of shoe excitement, characterized by strong feelings of pleasure and by a series of involuntary squeals in an octave range not normally found in humans, usually accompanied by the exchange of cash for footwear.

Why is it that I have to look up the correct spelling for questionnaire every time I write the word and that I can't remember my own mother's zip code, but I find quirky words and phrases and they just stick to the roof of my brain like peanut butter??

And what is up with this peanut butter craving I have had going on?

That's another blog, but no -- I'm not.

bloggedy blog

School started tonight. Statistics class and then my Soc 202 class online.

I think I'm going to like Stats. It was wordy. I like words.

I really hate it when I blog just to blog...

It's just really not me but here we are again. My life, while not perfect, is pretty good. I mean, what is there to talk about?

I'm not dating, I'm not confused about where my life is going -- stick a fork in me, I'm done.

Well, not done per se. I'm just saying don't give me a bunch of crap if there isn't a post every 3 hours here. It would throw you into a coma. ("Went to work, ate 18 points, trying to figure out what to eat for dinner on 8 points. Walked one mile. Watched 16 hours of Lost in 2 sittings.")

I LOVE being married to Scott, things are going great. Now. But, the fact is that we're not always shining sunshine out of our ass, but I don't talk about that stuff. Why? NO ONE TALKS ABOUT THAT STUFF, YOU MORON. It's part of the cult. I'm probably never going to talk about the ins and outs of it in detail. Why? Frankly, it's dull. We watch a lot of tv together, we giggle about stuff only we find funny, we flirt, we watch more tv, we sleep, we eat, we fart, whatever. It's your life being watched by someone else.

I have been wanting to go off on a whole marriage thing, actually. I know someone that got engaged to someone that... Well, she's engaged, she says she's happy. Less than 48 hours before it happened, she was crying in my house about this guy, but now she's happy. Ooookay. What can I do? What can I say? I said congratulations. Did I mean it?

I don't know.

I stayed up not long before that until almost when the sun came up (or was the sun coming up??) listening to all of the dark sides of this relationship without having any prior knowledge and all of the rationalization for the behavior. And now, you've got a ring and everything's great? Are you serious?

Sorry. Sorry. But, it bothers me to watch people make mistakes I made in the past.

So, here's my thing. Do not marry anyone ever for the sake of being married. Marriage itself with the wrong person sucks. Because you are trapped every waking moment (not at work/school/whatever you can do to get out of the house) with the same person. That is a lot of time. Plus, you sleep next to them. Which means any of their weird sleep stuff is going to affect you. Don't get married because you want to cross that off your list. Simply because your biological clock is ticking. Because you don't want to face dating in your 30's.

Trust me, dating in your 30's is far superior to being married to the wrong person.

How do you know if it's the wrong person? Honestly, I think that if you are rationalizing behavior and rationalizing your reaction to being verbally abused -- that doesn't seem like the right person.

I got lucky. I did. Scott is it for me. He is the gin in my vermouth, he is my peanut butter, and all of the other mushy comparisons. Did I have doubts? Well, yes, I did. But, I go back to the core of the man and how happy I am with this man and there can never be any other. When we are together, we are like ridiculous five year old kids. Laughing and giggling and just generally being a little stupid. It's not grown up, it's not "mature" and it's not for everyone. But I know it's for me and I know that there's nothing else.

Check your gut. Your gut knows, even when you don't want to believe what it says.

Can you tell I've over-indulged in wine for the first time in a while? :)


xoxo

hpl