Sweating like An Oldie

I wasn’t good with the walking yesterday but I did manage to get out and do some grocery shopping, make a nice family dinner for my in-laws and I was careful what I ate.

I was also very, very good last night ignoring the voices. And.... (drumroll) I only ate one piece of key lime pie even though it is one of my faves. So all in all, I was pretty pleased with the day. Pleased enough to step on the scale this morning and discover I lost (kettledrum drum roll) 4 whole pounds.The apidexin hasn't arrived yet but this is a good start.

Shirley still looks to be the same size but I worked her good today. Since people in my fair city are not interested in working as a residential cleaning lady for the mere pittance we pay, ($20 per hour) we are short-staffed. Wonderful Daughter and I worked along with my regular cleaning partner.

One of our gals quit with no notice after we had the audacity to inquire why she felt she should skip all the dusting in a client’s home and leave 40 minutes early. In fairness to the ex-worker, Wonderful Daughter was also consumed with a burning desire to know whether it was a rag from the toilet or just what exactly she used on the client’s mirrors.

Anyways, she had a “come-apart” as they so delicately call it in the South and told us exactly what we could do with all our cloths, whether they'd been dunked in the toilet or not. So, today with the high temperature of 26, we worked.

We began at 7:40 a.m. at the first home in the far SE sector of the city. It was a move out with the new owners showing up at 11:30 so cupboards, appliances, windows and all needed to be done. Quickly.
We think perhaps the house had been a rental since a butter knife with the unmistakeable signs of having been used to hot-knife hash was found. That’s not to say homeowners don’t imbibe. Just not usually.


The next home was 42 km away and we spent a little extra time at the move out, so we were already running late. The next one is a regular client’s home but it is 2,600 sq. Ft. And her Mother-In-Law is coming for the baby’s first birthday party tomorrow. So MAJOR Cleaning commenced.

If I do say so myself, it looked spectacular when we left. I even have a special little tool I use to brush each fringe on oriental carpets out. So, unless the mother in law was going into closets, it should be a happy day for everyone tomorrow.

It’s funny how much you “know” about people just from cleaning their homes. This client is a real jewel and I love doing her home. I just wonder what her adorable little guy is going to get for his third birthday in 2 more years because it appears he has everything now.

Wonderful Daughter spent a delightful 2 minutes checking out a ball popping toy that looked like a ton of fun.
I sure don’t remember stuff like that from when I was a kid. Silly Putty was a big, big deal. I tried eating mine and that’s probably why I don’t recall many of my other toys.

We grabbed a quick bite of lunch and then it was on to the next home. Except ,Wonderful Daughter staged a mutiny. It seems the next client was only expecting us if we could make it today and surprise... we couldn’t.

My regular partner backed her up totally, the disloyal wench! Since I have been trying to rehab a ripped muscle in the gluteal region (yeah that’s right, I broke my butt a couple weeks ago), I wasn’t as unhappy as I tried to pretend. They have worked with me enough to sense I wasn’t truly upset at the change in plans. Apparently, the maniacal giggling gave me away.

Wonderful Daughter is spending the long weekend with us because her boys have gone away with my in-laws. She kept me up until after 3 a.m. while we surfed the ‘net, giggled and visited. It was so nice to get a chance to catch up with her since I only see her 3 or 4 times every freaking week.

Still, we always have a ton of fun together and it was just great for her to have a break from single parenthood and the other outside stresses her life is plagued with.

Tonight, we are going to torment Dar, drink Cosmos and read. She treated me to the 5 book trilogy of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy so, other than a BBQ with friends tomorrow night, they can expect to see only the top of my head until they put me and broken down old Shirley to bed.

Guest Post - The Wonderful Daughter

Hello, all. Ok, none yet. I have hacked into Mom's email account (not a hard task at all), because I wish to clarify a few things.
Mom makes herself sound like an absolute heifer, which she is actually not. She is fat. I'll go as far as obese, but I worry that people are going to read her descriptions and think she's a disgusting 600lb woman who can't take care of basic hygiene because of the weight.
This is not true, but I know it's the impression you get, because it's the impression I got reading her posts, and I know better.

Basically, she's a 210lb shortie whose descriptive skills leave much to be desired.

Apparently she`s going to post some pics with her head cut off. In the picture only, duh. She's not going to go all post Ann Boelyn on us, she just wants some accountability. I'm all for this, and will probably be the one behind the camera, and who walks her through how to display them here. I may go as far as to teach her how to photoshop Anna Nicole Smith's head onto them, we'll see.

Now, I know there will be haters when this blog gets read by someone. I know these haters will post anon rude comments. You should know that this crap will be deleted, and Ill make sure Mom doesn't read that crap first. I will do anything I can to protect her, and very least of that will include hacking in and deleting your insults before she can be hurt by them. So save us all some time and don't bother, k?

What Big...um, er, Eyes you have Grandma.

I took Tikki for 2 nice walks so far today. Funny how he didn`t bark at anyone except the slender, beautiful blonde who walked by on the other side of the street. I wonder if he picked up his love of looking at the ladies from Dar?

I’ve never been worried about my man who wants to look at other women, as long as he wants to come home to me. We all look, why not be honest about it?

I recall as a kid, going to visit my dad in the Okanagan and he would slo-o-owly cruise by the beach, looking at the “lake conditions” as he termed it. Then, he would laugh so I always knew what he was really interested in.

In later years, I lived with him by now and we were watching an awards show, probably the Academy Awards. Raquel Welch walked the red carpet with her hair piled up and styled into an intricate, ornate work of art.

She also had on a dress that was slit to her navel.

Me: “Wow, Dad! Did you see Raquel Welch’s hair? Wasn’t that something? Did you see her hair? I wonder how long it took to do it like that. Dad? Did you see it?”
Dad: “Hair? Hell, I didn’t even notice she had a head!”

So looking at the ladies is not discouraged around here. However, there was an exception made for our oldest grandson, Dom. When he was 3 I had to go get a new swimsuit. This would be classified as a Level 8 Catastrophic Event.

After wandering around the mall with Someone and Dom, I was ready to cry. I hate shopping at the best of times and a Level 8 occurrence could hardly be mistaken as one of the best of times.

Nothing looked right, fit right, felt right. It was a good thing we were going to a lake, otherwise I’d have to acquaint myself with the whale watching tour times so I could get out of the water.

Finally we went into Additionelle. They make clothes for real women with boobs and butts and curves. Big curves.

Dom was getting tired of being dragged from store to store and wasn’t listening very well so I took him into the change room with me. He amused himself by climbing all over and hiding under the changing room bench until he finally looked up to see what I was doing.


He exclaimed, surprised, “Nana! You’re naked!”

Then, after looking me up and down, (in his clearest piping voice), “And... and ... you`re FAT!


The entire changing room erupted into laughter. And he was firmly discouraged from looking at the ladies for a few more years.

Now, 4 years later, he has pledged his troth to Jayda but should he chose to follow the family tradition, he has to follow the same ground rules as any man I might be married to.

1) Look,
2) Don't comment,
3) Don't give yourself whiplash.
4) Or drive up onto the curb. Oh wait, that's only a rule for a husband.

Kids say the darndest things, indeed.

Purple Water and Pink Poodles

Hey, maybe writing this down and being accountable to the entire Internet is helping...

Tonight, I had my "last treat".

A Pecan Mudslide from Dairy Queen which is my all time favorite. The fact that I'm lactose intolerant and will, therefore, be as sick as a dog by morning didn't slow me down at all.

I ignored the voices a few minutes ago and actually dug through the pantry, past all the goodies, to find the Acai berry powder to put into my water bottle. Pretty purple water. It smells funky though. Maybe I left it in there too long?

When I'm dead tomorrow, don't blame DQ y'all.

Now then. About the pink poodle. I did a ton of research on dog breeds and finally decided I wanted a toy poodle. The criteria was that the dog be small enough not to need a ton of exercise but large enough to walk a ways and withstand a bit of roughhousing with my two grandsons.

Oh, and it had to be smart enough to train. Poodles are the SECOND smartest of all dog breeds. Only Border Collies are higher ranked. We once owned a beautiful Samoyed that was so inbred it couldn't learn the most basic command.

So, after all the hours (days) of research I went to Magrath on April 19th to pick up my wonderful pup, Tikki the Toy Poodle. I immediately sent for some proper dog books from the Dog Whisperer and read half of "Be the Pack Leader". All very sage advice and I was prepared to raise the perfectly behaved and well adjusted dog.

Unfortunately, being the lazy piece of baggage I tend to be, I let all his training slide and now have a spoiled little 5 month old puppy. Who I have currently dyed (with Kool-Aid) a pretty candy floss pink.

Last night after dinner I noticed some unusual activity over at my kitchen island. I had left some smokies there after barbequing them, and in typical lazy fashion, hadn`t put them away or done the dishes yet.

I could hear a scrabbling noise on the hardwood floor but since the couch is in front of the island, I couldn't see what was going on. Suddenly, it appeared,

A pink poodle head.

Then it disappeared.

And immediately reappeared.

Tikki was jumping for the plate of food. He is 13 inches high. The counter is 38 inches high and he was jumping straight up in the air and clearing it! He just couldn`t figure out how to get the plate from the middle of the island. Yet.

I could write volumes on all of his little antics. They`re not all as cute as you would assume the antics of a pink poodle would be, either. Like the time he ate my two-hundred dollar C-Pap mask as well as eating a hole in the replacement mask 10 minutes after I unwrapped it. Or when he dug holes in our custom-made living room set. I've seen dorm furniture in better shape.

Tonight when Tikki was running around and tearing things up in our little teeny condo Someone I have been married to for the past 29 years said, "He`s not really working out, is he?"

That Broke. My. Heart. since I know it's me who has let everyone down.

Tomorrow, sore back or not, I`m taking that poodle for a couple of nice long walks. It will get some of the P & V out of him and some of the calories burned off of me.


Now if you'll excuse me, I'd better get off the computer.

Tikki wants to check his e-mail and update his Facebook account.



**word to the wise, you cannot keep Acai powder indefinitely. It goes musty.
And tastes like butt.

Call of the Wild

I try to be good.

Honest, I do try. But, around 9 or 10 at night my resolve wavers when I start to hear the voices.
Not the voices in my head.

No, really.

These are different voices.

They come from the kitchen, from the direction of the pantry to be precise. From the goodies residing in there. The crème filled cookies, the licorice, the tortilla chips, the eagle brand milk, the cinnamon hearts, the chocolate chips, the microwave popcorn. They all keep calling to me. Softly at first, then more insistently.

“Nana.”
“Nana?”
“Nana, don’t you feel like having a cookie?”
“How about just one?”
“C’mon how about a nice, sweet coconut crème cookie?”

A few minutes later.

“Nana?”
“Nana?”
“A cookie. An ULTIMATE coconut crème filled cookie.”
“There’s lots."

"A whole box."

"How about just one measly delicious coconut cookie?”


Silence.

Then,
“Did we mention we are sweet?”
“ And delicious?”
“ And coco...”


ALRIGHT, shut up! I’ll have two okay? That ought to shut you up. There, I ate two. Happy now? Shut up, I’m reading.

A little bit later.


“Nana”
“Nana?”
“Nana, don’t you feel like a handful of tortilla chips?”

And on and on it goes until I have grazed through a few handfuls of chips. With sour cream. More cookies, some raisins, a whole bag of microwave popcorn and three or five pieces of licorice, some cheezies and a couple of Hot Rods.

Finally, when I am stuffed and more than a bit sick from all the junk I’ve eaten I think there will now be silence.

Until the voices start. From the fridge.


“Nana? I think there’s a left over smokie from supper.”
“How about some nice Greek salad?”
“Nana?”
“Nana?!”

I feel like my stomach is Audrey II begging and crying for me to "feed me".

Funny how there aren’t any voices coming from the closet where my runners or the dog’s leash reside. Nothing in there demands my immediate attention or insists on being taken out and enjoyed.

And those vegetables going soft in the crisper? Not a freaking peep out of them either.

I'm going to make myself a tinfoil hat to block their transmissions. That'll fix them all.


I’m going out on a limb here. I think I have an eating disorder.

It’s called gluttony.

Now Serving Number 206

When I was little, we lived with my great-grandparents while our parents divorced and Mom went to nursing school. I remember having bubble baths with my older sister. We'd soap up our animal shaped sponges and create "lanolin" like we'd seen on TV commercials. We'd slather it on while she talked in funny voices and did her own commercials.

Pretty soon, she`d get even crazier and funnier. The suds and splashes would start to fly. I would laugh my head off when she would do the bakery lady voice. I was a great audience and she was a natural comedian.

She would grab the rolls of chub on her tummy and tell me they were rolls of bread dough, waiting to be put in the oven and baked up for the next customer. She had two rolls to offer as I recall. She`d have a whole routine going with the different types of bread and arguing who ordered what. She made it all so funny and wonderful.

She was older, wiser, funnier and she had bread rolls. I was plain, scrawny and totally lacking in the rolls department. How I looked up to her. I wanted some rolls to offer up for comic hilarity too. sadly, I couldn`t even pull enough loose skin to make a small bun. It just wasn't fair!

What's that old saying, "Be careful what you wish for, it might come true."?

Fast forward 40+ years and I have my wish.

In spades, baby.

My body is no longer a temple, I turned it into a freaking bakery. A bakery owned by a pleasant Chinese family since there are at least 3 Chins hanging around here. I don`t have to wish for any bread rolls, I have a full selection. No to mention several other sections.

There's the Crave cupcakes section, the Ultimate Coconut cookie section, the new buttermilk cake recipe section, the stuff made with Eagle Brand milk section and a whole lot more.

My butt has gotten so humongous I named it. Shirley. My sweaters lie on it like a shelf.

I have thighs that would catch fire from the friction if I ever had to run anywhere. I have chest pains even when I`m standing on the scale.

Currently, I weigh 206 lbs.

Which really sucks since I'm only 5 foot 2. I wanted to do an online search for my BMI but I`m afraid if I key in my particulars, I`d get links to Ringling Bros or Barnum and Bailey for a fat lady job.

So, today I ordered some help in the form of Apidexin. It`s not an answer, it`s a kick start.

The next round of the fat loss battle will be fought here. Since I plan on becoming accountable to the whole Internet, I`ll actually have to do something about the bakery that I have become.

Putting down the cookie now and moving on down the street.

Nothing to see here.