YOU ALL RECOGNIZE THIS WOMAN, RIGHT?

So, kinda scary, huh? Well, here's how scary it really is. I set that "goal" at the beginning of January...you remember, walking, blah blah blah. Well, in that period of time I have managed to change my weight by five pounds. UP! So, those donut holes of the other night are a thing of the past. I now weigh more than I have ever weighed in my life. Now, if I were smarter than I had ever been in my life, I would feel good about this. I don't necessarily feel that bad about being this heavy, I would just like to see my feet again. They are ugly, but they are mine.

I would also like the choice of more than two pair of jeans to wear. And, it would be nice to wear something other than slip-on shoes. How about not feeling like there's something on my back when it's only the beginning of a true fat roll. Plus, I get to go see my 12 year old doctor "Kristi" next week and tell her I only put on the weight in case I got some debilitating illness in the next few weeks and found myself unable to eat. Why, I could go for a couple of months and still not be on the verge of "wasting away."

I have put Kirstie's picture up there for a very good reason. About a month ago she was on tv talking about how she was 5'8" and weighed about 200 pounds. I am 5'6" and weigh a "few" more pounds than that right now (ok, 13) and I still don't look like that. I wish the fat rolls would start at about 180 and that I carried my weight a little less easily. Until I succeed at losing some of this "emergency ration" that I have managed to acquire, I will be paying very close attention to the one thing I usually ignore....WHAT GOES IN MY MOUTH!

Gone are donut holes, chili cheese fries, brownies, macaroni and cheese, frozen pizzas and any canned foods...Here come the days of fruits, vegetables, and brown rice. No more orange juice...more water and less diet soda. And finally, no more MOCHAS. With whipped cream. And whole milk. Cottage cheese sounds so much more appetizing.

Now, to top this off, I got my hair cut today. I have short hair. I like short hair. Any time I spend more than five minutes on my hair I get pissy. So now I look like a Pillsbury Dough Boy shaped Q-tip. And, I wonder why they're not knocking down the door for a shot at this hot granma-ma!

The funny thing...I'm out of the dookie blues. Hell, this is pretty funny. On top of all of this, I probably have another kidney stone. Time to break out in song..."Always look on the bright side of life..."

By the way, all of the blogs I read over the weekend really cracked me up and helped the moodiness go away...Thanks, friends.

I'VE GOT THE DOOKIE BLUES

I've got the dookie blues. The dookie blues is a collection of feelings that I learned about a long time ago in a place far away. When I was young, I grew up in Watts...now called South Central. I had a crazy mother, crazy with drinking, drugs, self-hatred and a strong dislike of me. I thought I was a fairly reasonable child, I did have a lip on me, learned at her knee, by the way and I was certainly "too big for my britches." She was not a stupid woman, probably one of the smartest persons I have ever met. But, it was not a good life, for either of us.

I spent a great deal of time at other people's houses. Mabel lived down the block. I loved Mabel. She taught me to drink sweet tea out of mayonnaise jars, to love Robert Johnson and the blues, to play canasta...and she taught me about the dookie blues.

The dookie blues aren't out and out unhappiness. They are just a collection of feelings that come when you are feeling down, nothing is right, and you just don't care. That's where I am tonight.

There are a variety of reasons.

• It's January in Minnesota. I don't hate winter, but fall is my favorite. It has snowed tons and there is two feet of it on the roof that has to come down. The plows have plowed the streets and there is a striation of dirt that is exposed in the snow. There is salt and slush on the streets and everything looks dirty.
• It's the end of January and I am a bookkeeper. The only bookkeeper for a small publishing company. I had three sets of annual reports to compile and set about doing it today. I thought I was doing great when I happened to notice that there was this one journal entry that I had overlooked in November. This meant that my almost completed job was going to require a lot of undoing, re-publishing, admitting to everyone I had sent the first two sets to that I had goofed and delete those file and wait until Monday when I can redo them.
• I had a horrible Thursday. I came to the realization today that Thursday is the worst work day for me. Monday and Tuesday I am excited to be back, fresh start and all of that. Wednesday is hump day...halfway done and it should be downhill from here. Thursday is spent just waiting for Friday. It has no purpose except to keep me from Friday which is the last day of the work week.
• My birthday is next month. Now, don't get me wrong. I love my birthday. I reclaimed it a long time ago from the trauma of my youthful birthdays. It's just that the couple of weeks before it I get into a kind of maudlin mood about the passing of time...blah, blah, blah.
• Caden didn't come out tonight. He had a dinner dance after school and since he is in the fifth grade he went with his father. I went with him last year. It was painful. Loud music, screaming kids, but, I still wanted to go with him this year. That is really pitiful.

Now, if those aren't enough reasons for having the dookie blues, try this one on. I wanted to make pesto shrimp with fresh vegetables and pasta for dinner. I stopped at the store, got everything I needed, drove home (45 minutes) and realized I had forgotten the shrimp. That was the final straw. I fed the dog, crawled into bed with a package of donut holes (oh yeah, she remembered the donut holes!) turned on the laptop and here I will be until tomorrow morning when this latest case of dookie blues slinks out of my life.

I'll be fine. Hell, I've had donut holes for dinner before and I have the Alien vs Predator DVD from Netflix...if that doesn't burn it out of me, nothing will.

FORGET ABOUT SPONGEBOB...

Where were all those self righteous people when I was seeing those women above on tv? Daily, in re-runs? I mean, Gale Storm...short hair, single, shorts, cruise ship activities director? What about Zelda? Sure, on tv you were led to believe she wanted Dobie, but I knew she really wanted me, only me. And then there's Mrs. Hathaway. The epitome of self assured, no nonsense womanhood. In control of her life, her destiny and her sexuality.

I mean, I knew I was normal when all of these women showed up on my little black and white screen. That is, I thought I was normal until the seventh grade when I asked a girl to a dance and then went through hell and hatred for the rest of my school years. Yeah, if those zealots had been around, I would have known that there were those kinds of hateful people out there and just kept my big mouth shut. I still would have been who I was, but with their imposed shaming and blaming I would have learned to lie, deceive those around me and lead a generally miserable life.

Luckily, I had enough of an attitude to not care. And I still don't....and as I've said before, if they don't like it...they can kiss my queer ass!

I GOT CAUGHT IN A MUSIC GO ROUND

I suppose it was bound to happen...and it did...Kirk included me in one of those "What are you listening to now" and "What is it going to tell us about you" kind of list-go-rounds. As I completed it, even I was cracking up. Go ahead, laugh, I'm 58, a child of the 60's, and, I guess, looking at this list, a hopeless romantic. Worry about whether or not I am passing it on to you...

Random 10:

1. "Dirty Old Town" - Shane McGowan and the Popes
2. "I Want A Little Sugar In My Bowl" - Nina Simone
3. "Warm Leatherette" - Grace Jones
4. "If You Could See Me Now" - Etta James
5. "Ain't No Sunshine" - Ladysmith Black Mombazo
6. "(Your Love) Keeps Lifting Me Higher" - Jackie Wilson
7. "All Along the Watchtower" - Bob Dylan
8. "Angel Eyes" - Jeff Healey
9. "Brother Getting Caught" - Los Hombres Caliente
10. "Bird On A Wire" - K. D. Lang

What is the total amount of music files on your computer? 1410--and it's a work computer (eek)

The last CD I bought was "Putumayo Presents Women of Africa"

What is the last song you listened to before this message? "Warm Leatherette" - Grace Jones

Write down five songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you:

1. "You Turn Me On, I'm A Radio" - Joni Mitchell
2. "With God On Our Side" - Bob Dylan
3. "We Shall Overcome" - Staple Singers
4. "Redwood Tree" - Van Morrison
5. "White Rabbit" - Jefferson Airplane

Who are you going to pass this on to:

My new friend Andrena at Heavenly Ankh, my favorite Dead Guy and, let's see, a random choice from my list to put this upon: how about Allan and Inside Allan's Mind. Now I have to e-mail them and let them know that they are IT!

JOHNNY CARSON

Johnny Carson gave me the two funniest moments that were ever on television. And, I was lucky enough to see them both as they happened.

The first was the memorable Ed Ames and the hatchet throwing contest. There has never been a funnier skit in the history of television. All unplanned, all Johnny. I'm not sure what year it was, but it was very risque and the funniest thing I had ever seen.

The second was Johnny, Buddy Hackett and Carol Wayne. Buddy was never funnier than when he and Johnny were playing off of each other. And for those of you who remember Carol Wayne, well, her biggest contributions to the Tonight Show were also her biggest assets. The punch line was, "I just want to know where she keeps the cookies." Delivered by Buddy with the straightest face he could ever attain, and Johnny was without words. It didn't happen often. And when it did, you knew it was a special time.

Johnny brought me more laughter and escape from loneliness over the years that I care to remember. I have missed him since he left the show, never watched Jay, he just wasn't Johnny and substituted David, all the while knowing he would never attain the level that Johnny had set.

He-e-e-e-e-r-es Johnny...never again.

IS IT DEJA VU OR IS IT CHICKEN FAT?

How many of you have gone through the experience of Deja Vu? How many of you have wondered, "Is this Deja Vu?" I have the answer to all of your questions. If, in the course of having a Deja Vu experience you call out loudly, "Chicken Fat!" you will know immediately. If the "Chicken Fat" exists in your Deja Vu feeling, it is, in fact, a true Deja Vu experience.

The logical thinking behind this test is that the term "chicken fat" so rarely comes up in one's daily conversations or experiences, that its existence in your Deja Vu experience must truly be a validation of said experience.

Since trying this myself, for many years, the Deja Vu experience has never been pronounced valid.

As an after note, I would like to point out that this scientific principle was developed one evening in 1975 after the consumption of certain herbal smokables and other mind enhancing chemicals. Who says I wasted all those years?

LET ME MAKE THIS PERFECTLY CLEAR

I am an American. I support my country. I made the mistake, once, of being critical of our troops during the Vietnam War. I was wrong. One trip to the Vietnam Memorial opened that door of realization for me. I have spent the rest of my life being perfectly clear about what my concern is. And, that is peace. I did not mean for my post yesterday to cause conflict or disdain. But, for those of you who do not understand the basic tenets of our republic, including freedom of speech, please see above.

Now on to something different. I love my dog. I have a Chesapeake Bay Retriever that someone gave me because even though her breed is that of a hunting dog, she is frightened of loud noises--gunshots, thunder, doors closing. That makes her pretty useless when it comes to retrieving those fallen trophy pheasant. Her name is Jewels. Basically, because she has no family ones. She has golden eyes, which has led to her nickname: Old Piss Eyes.

She has many wonderful qualities. As the old saying goes, I wish I could be the person my dog thinks I am. She is smart and catches on to all my ways far too quickly. Like when I pretend I am going to take her out and then shut the door behind her and she is left to her own means to entertain herself. She now stands behind me and pushes my butt with her head to force me out the door. She fancies herself a protector. Until the hand becomes available for petting, at which point you could be Charles Manson and she would patiently wait until Charlie finished his mayhem for the treat that might become available.

Her latest thing is what I am referring to as "controlled farting." If it were a class she taught, it might be called "Conrolled Farting and It's Ability to Force Your Owner into Anything." Last night I was awakened to the smell of dog poop. Not fart. Poop. I couldn't believe it. And there was Jewels right by the side of the bed, doggie smile, wagging tail and needy look. Up I get, searching the house for the gigantic pile of crap that I know is somewhere. Lights on. Lights off. Behind the bed in the spare bedroom. Behind the table in the dining room. This appears to be a game to Old Piss Eyes. A game she has invented and is truly enjoying playing. Jumping from room to room with a wagging tail and full attention of ME!

After a thorough search of both floors, no crap is found. Fine. It's 2:30 in the morning. I'll get a drink of water and go right back to sleep. Just as I am falling off into my next adventure with Queen Latifah, Tom Waits or John Hiatt, there it is again. I reach for the light. The dog is already standing at the side of the bed, I swear I can see the fumes still rising from her butt, Piss Eyes looking from me to the door, me to the door. Okay.

Maybe the dog has to poop. Maybe there is a giant turd pushing to get out and if I don't get up and let her out, I will find a turd. Up I get again. Jewels is already running from room to room ready to play "Where Is The Crap" and have a gay, old time. Nope, not this time. To the back door. Open the door, dog won't go out, step out on the porch (in my oldest t-shirt and unmentionables) into the 10 degree night, thinking...If she has to go that bad, it won't take long.

It is beautiful, as my legs turn blue and my teeth start to chip from the chattering, I think. No moon, stars everywhere, the Milky Way and...and the dog, standing at the bottom of the stairs, no pooping activity going on at all, with her rope in her mouth ready for a quick game of pull the owner into the snowbank.

That's it. I've had it. Back into the house with the dog following, up the stairs, into bed, trying to find the warm spot I left not too long ago, drifting off just as the smell of poop hits me again...Ha Ha...blanket over head and that's that. Until this morning when I find the pile of cat crap...with my toes, after waking up late, and realizing that this is Friday and what a better way in the world to start off my last day of the week.

Beautiful boy is coming out tonight, he and Jewels can play in the 6-10 inches of snow that is expected to fall on top of the already mounting piles and I, I will sit back and realize just how lucky I am.

THEY ARE BOTH GONNA KILL ME

Here is an exact copy of the e-mail that she sent me:

Boy do we know how to have a good time:) For the first time Caden put on face mask.HELLOOOOOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just like Mrs Doubtfire.We did our feet too. We love you, see you tomorrow. Tina and Caden.

Aren't I the luckiest woman in the world. Families are great!

Muzik Dude or How I Found My Way Back to How I Really Feel

I have to be put back on the right track every now and then and thank goodness Muzik Dude is there to whup my butt back into the reality of the world. (See comment, previous post!) I'm serious. I have a tendency to react in spaces and places where there isn't any real reason to. I did this for far too many years of my life. The reality now is that I am almost 58 years old, I'm tired of fighting the good fight, I vote, I never let an opportunity to be honest in my daily life pass me by...and I long to be be Phoebe!

You know Phoebe. "Stinky Cat" and all. I want to be funny, entertaining, shallow and, while not dismissing the pains of the world, live out the balance of my life in relative peacefulness. With a really sharp edge, politically incorrect whenever I want to be, hot dog eating, embarassing to my friends and family freakiness and a dog that loves me. Muzik Dude was right. And, if I had the energy to have a crush, I would have a crush on him. But, my time is taken up right now with too many important things. You are about to read about them.

It is 20 below zero here today. I refused to leave the house. Old Piss Eyes refused to go further than five feet from the front door for her morning crap and that gives me something to look forward to when it warms up. Poop patrol. And how am I spending my glorius day off? Watching tv, surfing BE and BlogClicker simultaneously, playing Yahoo games, trying to figure out how to type an umlauted "u", thinking about making a nice pan of potatoes and cheese and onions that I can eat with bacon and toast and eggs for dinner tonight, lathering my body in Vaseline to fend off the effects of the weather, laundry and wishing I had taken my ADHD medication last night. I took it this morning and I figure it will hit in the middle of this post and you will be trying to figure out where in the hell is she going with this.

Well, here it is. I am watching "Kiss the Girls." The great thing about this is I am sure I have seen it about three times already, read the book, and it's like a whole new experience. IAging is wonderful...something new day after day. And, I am saying the same things to the tv that I have already said before

For example:

Why does this woman, who lives alone, choose to get up in the middle of the night and investigate the noises in her house? Hello! 911, bitch, use the phone!

Why does this woman, who lives alone, choose to have fish for pets. Fish don't bark to tell you something is up. Think about it.

Why, when laying in a puddle of water, she is hit with a Taser does she not have serious burns from the electricity running through her body? Wouldn't you think that would happen?

And, how in the hell, after going through all of that, can Ashley Judd and all the other women this psychotic dude kidnapped still have their make-up on?

The only thing that is really surprising is that she didn't run into the basement, with no outside exit, to escape this guy.

Okay, now to the laundry and reassure all of you that I really, really promise not to get caught up in all that other stuff I find to be horribly tedious...the next day. Thanks for the reality check. And, Mr. Dedd, you're starting to tickle my fancy, too!

She-e-e-e's back!

WARNING: POLITICAL RANT TO FOLLOW

READ ON AND COMPLAIN IF YOU MUST

I have some strong political beliefs and rarely rant and rave on them. However, prepare.

I was surfing BE and found an entry on another blog announcing the testimony of some somewhat well known people who will be testifying on an extremely touchy situation. I wish I could give you some more information, but I scanned it quickly, got pissed, forfeited my half a credit and moved on before I even knew I was going to respond.

The issue they are going to speak about is "I Regret My Abortion." Get ready! Who the hell doesn't regret their abortion? I had one, and for whatever reason I or anyone else gets an abortion, who wouldn't regret it? Anti-choice rhetoric aside, what kind of bastard dare insinuate that any of us who were in that position don't have regrets.

I am definitely pro-choice. I am also aware that with proper education, access to adequate medical attention and information and a more balanced distribution of wealth the question of abortion rights would be less of an issue. Why aren't you spending your time on that, oh wise ones (?), instead of taking it upon yourselves to become such moralistic, judgmental voices?

You are a Radical. Right on!
What kind of Sixties Person are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Wow, man, far out. As if I didn't already know. There are many stories from those days that I could tell...here is one. There used to be massive anti-war (Viet Nam, for those not old enough to remember) demonstrations going on at Griffith Park on a regular basis. Those with attitudes could be expected to be arrested. Guess what? Yep, I was arrested.

In those days we didn't carry ID for good reason. So, when arrested, fake names were given since we were bound to be released rather quickly because the jails were not set up to handle a lot of long haired hippie freaks. On two occassions, one day right after the other, I was busted. The first day my name was Holly Focker. Said without blinking, this went right past the overworked booking officer as she printed me and pushed me into another line to be taken to a holding cell. The next day, the same booking officer booked me as Olivia D. Puck. Ahh, the idiocy of childhood and ideals. The second day, however, they weren't as friendly.

Apparenty, the cells weren't as crowded and I found myself being hustled off to a cell in Sybil Brand. That was the name of the women's jail. I started getting just a little nervous. I mean, if they were going to hold me to be bailed out, none of my friends knew just what kooky name I had given them. So, I started arguing. Or, rather, yelling and cussin'. This led one of the big, burly female guards to threaten me. Or, so she thought. I believe her exact words were, "Calm down, little missy, or we'll throw you in the Daddy tank." Daddy Tank? Well, it took me all of two seconds to figure that one out and I responded by trying to swing on her.

True to her word, into the "Daddy Tank" I went. For those of you who don't know what the Daddy Tank is, it is where they separated the "Lesbians" from the rest of the population so there would be no "problems." I was nineteen and looked about fifteen and these women were no threat to me. So, there I was, finding true love, getting free cigarettes and being treated like the Princess I was to become. This was well before the days that people recognized that "Lesbians" or bi-sexuals could look like anything other than a white t-shirt-wearing-women-with-Marlboros-under-the-sleeve dyke. (Not that there's anything wrong with that...tee hee)

I was out within two days and had absolutely no problems with the women in the "Daddy Tank." I still chuckle today when I think about it. The biggest concern I ever have had was if I was to get hit by a car with no id on me, how would they know who I really was? Olivia, Holly or ??????

BLOGGING IS TURNING ME INTO A CALLOUS, INSENSITIVE MONSTER

We've had some pretty crappy weather up here in MN lately. Between sub-zero temps, ice storms and 14 inches of snow it has been just delightful. And, delightful to drive in. In the Great Northwoods it is common to see dead animals at the side of the road all year round. What happens in the winter is that there are dead, frozen animals at the side of the road.

Here is where the monster rears her ugly head. This morning as I was driving to work, I turned left onto one of the many country roads that I take into town. I check to make sure that there are no animals waiting at the side of the road to jump out and use me as a manner of suicide. And, I'm a little confused. There's something weird sticking out of the snowbank about a half a block ahead. I slow down, take a look, take another look, and the first thing that pops into my head is, "Damn, I wish I had my camera...nobody is going to believe this and I could post it on my blog."

What was it? It was a dead dog that had been hit by a car and then scooped by the plow to the side of the road. What made it interesting...or bizarre...was the fact that it's back legs were in the snowbank and it was facing the road with its paws up and looked like one of those statues that people used to tie their horses up to...you know the ones.

Holy shit. Here was a dead dog at the side of the road and all I could do was think about how I could exploit it. All day long I worried about whether or not it was some kid's dog...and then I'd switch to...I wonder if it will still be there when I head home, maybe I could get my camera and come back. Back and forth it went, "Gosh, I hope someone moves it before the owner sees it," to "Please let it still be there when I go home."

I feel bad, but, I justified by the fact that one year I kept a running total in the car of the kinds of carcasses along the road. Yeah, it's an exciting life, I know. But, the bottom line is, it was amazing. I wished you could have seen it. (Yes, I own a dog, yes, I would feel terrible if it were my dog, and yes, I would have taken a picture of it if it had been my dog. I'm just sick that way and besides, the dog knows just how weird I am.)

ON THE BREAKUP AND OTHER THINGS

Oh, the sorrow and sadness. Brad Pitt and Jennifer Anniston have separated. My life will never be the same. They are committed to remaining friends and have nothing but the utter respect for each other. Give me a fuckin' break. Every relationship that I have had ended badly. If we had been friends and had nothing but the utter respect for each other, we would still be together. Admittedly, I wasn't the best "picker" when it came to having relationships, but, when they were done, they were done. But, I digress from what the real point of this post is to be.

I hate "Pretty Men." Look at those faces up there. Brad Pitt, Ricky Nelson and Troy Donahue, for those of you not old enough to remember. What is the problem with them? They are prettier than most of the women on the face of the planet. It creeps me out. I want a man to look like a man. Give me some character, give me some scars, stubble, and uncombed hair over those guys up there who look like they took someone's estrogen. If I want a woman, I'll go get me one...but when I want a man, I want a real man! Capice?

You have all put away your New Year's memories by now and are well into your ordinary, mundane lives. I, however, have been cherishing my memory of New Year's and am now willing to share it with you.

I thought it was going to be a typical evening for me. Some tv, a dvd, maybe some brownies and my beverage of choice, Diet Coke. Yes, those evenings of true debauchery are behind me. No more stripping at midnight, no more awakening with the knowledge that I had some disease with the symptoms of acute brain explosion, acute stomach explosion or acute memory explosion. I had settled in with my memories and was working hard to forget them.

Then, the next thing I know, there I am, there Queen Latifah is and row upon row of bright shining faces. Yep, the Queen and I had a project. We were going to teach these children...Unity Songs. (Aging Hippie Reference) I kept remarking how I couldn't believe we were doing this, we were the same size (I wish), and what a good thing we were doing for these children. Teaching them about "unity" and all.

Unfortunately, when I woke up I was unable to remember one of the "unity" songs that we had taught them. The only thing that went through my mind was the old Coke commercial. "I'd like to teach the world to sing..." But, how many of you spent your evening doing something as worthwhile with whichever star you were dreaming about?

This is becoming a habit with me. A couple of weeks ago, I dreamed I was having bbq with Tom Waits and we were singing in a campground. To be honest, my voice makes Tom sound great!

I think the sixties had quite a profound affect on me and I am just now beginning to pay the price.

I GOT AN AWARD! I GOT AN AWARD!

NANNER NANNER NOO NOO!!!

Yes, folks, step right up and eat your hearts out. I got an award. Well, actually, I took an award. And YOU can, too.

There are those BoB Awards floating around out there and if you were so mundane as to have been overlooked in a finalist category, or, not even nominated, Kirk can fix you up. He even created two templates for you, depending upon the background color of your blog.

How the tiny have risen! Before long, we'll all have awards and can glory in our new found fame! If only money would follow.

So, don't waste time. Head over there and pick up your award and you, too, can say:

"YOU LOVE ME, YOU REALLY, REALLY LOVE ME!"

By the way, my award came to me in the category:

MOST INANE RAMBLINGS OF A FIFTY SOMETHING BITCH FROM MINNESOTA

That's the nice thing about this award. You can name your own category. Now get over there and get one for your wonderful self!

I see you all are scratching your head and wondering, "What is this woman up to now?" This is a collage of my future life. Okay, maybe not my whole future life depending upon how successful I become at the goals I am setting for myself. Not resolutions, mind you. Goals. Theoretically, goals are more easily attainable than fulfilling resolutions. We'll see. I am going to make a journey and you will probably have to accompany me on some of it.

The picture on the left is good food. Good for a number of reasons. I usually don't have to cook it. It tastes good and the number one reason...I LOVE 'EM! So, to show that I am a person of great willpower, I will limit, if not eliminate, these foods. (Except for the cheese. I love my cheese. Here is the first bargain...if I get rid of cake, ice cream, and chocolate, can I please keep my cheese? Done!)

The person on the treadmill. Ah, yes. The treadmill. The piece of equipment taking up room in my office that I figure I have contributed a total of two and one half hours of my life out of the past year and a half that I have had it. Please, if I could put it under my bed, I would. Nope, this is the year I am going to use it for something other than hanging the ironing on. I figure five miles a day for the first month. And work my way up. Hell, it even makes a hill for me to run up. Run. My theory has always been, "Why would you run if no one was chasing you?" So, walking, uphill, exercise, daily. Got it. I'll start tomorrow.

Books. Ahhh, books. This is a simple one. Or not. I promise to read more books than I buy this year. This is for a couple of reasons. The first is: I love to read and need to prioritize it into my life. Perhaps if I say I have to read two books for every one I buy, no, make that three books for every one I buy, I will be able to save a bit more money. The second reason: I will most likely save my life as the piles of books diminish, I will not have to fear being killed by a falling tower of the world's best literature.

Now, what have you got to lose? How about an ass wide enough to carry a tray of drinks on. How about the belly that makes your grandson mention that his invention for his school project will be to help people who can't bend over, put on their socks. "Like you, granny." Listen, kid, I love you dearly, but you are getting close to the edge. Do you remember that teacher you had in the third grade that had those flappy things under her upper arm? Welcome to my nightmare. I had lost weight last year and then suffered a kidney infection, a couple of kidney stones, and discovered that Lortabs go down much easier with Peanut M&Ms. I don't want to be a skinny old lady, but, I'd like to weigh less than most football players who are getting paid professional salaries. I wouldn't mind hitting running back weight, but that is a dream!

And then the picture of the woman with that thing in her hand. What is it again? A spoon? A pogo stick? Oh, that's right, it's a broom. I will develop a more healthy relationship with the utensils of cleaning. I found that by listing what was in my bed on Tuesday nights embarrassed me to the point of keeping it open of food, more than two books, newspapers, telephones, ad
nauseum. If I don't get to work cleaning my bedroom, I will start to post pictures which will thoroughly depress you as much as me.

So, there you have it. My goals for the year. I will re-open this in a few months and cry over my failures and grin over my successes.

Did you think I had forgotten about all of you. No, I have a goal for you, too.