Betty Jean bit off a perfectly good coat of red nail polish waiting for the results of her body wrap


I’ve figured out that Miranda Hobbs is a man-hater. Steve Brady even tells her that the day after he first meets her. Or course knowing the outcome of the series, Miranda and Steve have a son, get married, and Miranda takes care of her mother-in-law. Big changes for a snooty lawyer. She’s my least favorite character in Sex and the City and I figured out why today. She’s rude to men.

Me . . . I did a little “sneak peak” and I lost two pounds. Let’s hope the scale gods are in my favor come the Sunday morning weigh in.

Fabulously Fabulous

In a world of fabulous things, what gives me great pride are my fabulous daughters. I’m so incredibly proud of the young women they’re becoming. They’ll be nineteen and twenty-one years old in April and I’m taking them to Disneyland for their birthdays. This is

their dream come true. You’d think they’d never been, but we estimated this is probably their twenty-fifth visit to Mickey Mouse’s house. This was them last year. It’s one of my favorite photos of my fabulous daughters.


(Yeesh, the girl behind them looks like she’s going to spew.)

My daughters are already planning which Fast Passes to get first, what we’ll go on. I’ll probably be either the Tower of Terror or Indiana Jones. I vote for Screamin’ California, the upside down roller coaster. It’s a good thing none of us get motion sickness and we thrive on speed, turns, and the horrifying drop of the Terror elevator. Last time, we did Screamin’ California back-to-back three times. Just love it.

My fabulous oldest daughter works very hard at her job and attends Boise State full time. She’s studying to be a high school counselor. My fabulous youngest daughter is in cosmetology school and just got a way cool job at a new trendy store in town. When I see both of them doing so well in their lives, working and going to school, taking care of themselves in their apartment together, I’m filled with joy. I couldn’t have asked for two more fabulous girls!

As for fabulous . . . I’ve heard that word like a bazillion times this week watching my DVDs. Carrie and Mr. Big got back together. Miranda is overfeeding her cat so it won’t be hungry and eat her face off if she dies alone. Samantha meets Leonardo DiCaprio, and a ton of other guys too. Charlotte is still searching for the one to marry. Me, I put on a pound and a half. I can only hope it’s muscle from lifting weights . . . or maybe not. Even so, I hope I’m still fabulously fabulous.

As Scarlett O’Hara would say, “After all, tomorrow is another day.”

Disney Movies and Other Such Cartoons

There’s something a bit daunting going to a massage therapist named Ursula. I’ve been to her before. My oldest daughter raves about Ursula’s talents. But my daughter also loves a deep tissue massage. Me, I just want to feel good. I called Ursula to book an appointment. My physical therapist said it could help my shoulder heal. I must admit, I had some trepidation going. I told Ursula to go easy on me.


Despite the image her name conjurs, this young lady is a delight. About 26ish and just finished getting her degree at BSU. She’s got a great personality, is very sweet and has lovely blue eyes. When the massage ended, I did indeed feel better. Except for the oil slathered all over me. It’s almost not worth going to get gooped up with lotions. I don’t like that part of it.

As I laid there telling Ursula to poke and pull on my bad arm, I couldn’t help wishing I were a cartoon character. The one that gets whacked on the head with an anvil in one scene, and is perfectly fine in the next. It’s been three weeks today since my rotator cuff surgery and it hurts like . . . well, I can’t say it. But suffice to say, think of the worst pain ever and that’s what I feel. It used to be with me 24/7. Now it lingers about 12/7. I don’t take anything during the day so I tough it out and suffer. I have to do exercises three times a day and they are so painful, I just want to give up. But I can’t. I want to be okay again. I want to put my hands behind my head and look up at the clouds from a lounge chair in my backyard. I want to sleep on my left side. I want to type as long as I feel like it and not have my arm hurt. I want to snuggle my hubby on his side of the bed instead of being propped up by pillows on mine. I want to shave my armpit without propping my arm up in the shower. And the day I can put my bra on like a “big girl” and not have to hook it in the front, slid ‘er around to the back ’cause my left arm simply will not rise beyind the waistband of my jeans . . . well, then I know I’ve come a long way, baby!




Last Saturday, we saw the show, Barrage, and it was fabulous. It’s nothing like the violins you heard in the school orchestra. This group is amazing. For showtimes in your area, you can visit the group’s website address.

The Blue Heron

We have a blue heron that visits our pond. The other day, he made an appearance.


What a fabulous looking bird. I like to watch him. He can stand stock-still for long minutes at a time, looking into the pond. The fish must be stirring in there since the surface has de-frosted. Hooray! I saw my first robin the other day. Can spring be coming soon? I hope so!

Weights and Measures


/>Week one, Mr. Big and Carrie meet and become boy and girlfriend then break up, Samantha cracks me up, Miranda . . . she’s my least favorite, and Charlotte is determined to get married. Me, I lost five pounds and two inches on my waist.


Truth or Urban Legend?

Does anyone know if it’s really true that Yoplait yogurt uses ground up beetles as a red coloring???!!!

The Math of Sex (And the City) = Weight Loss

If your mind is going one direction, take it elsewhere. I’m talking about watching DVDs on the treadmill. My hubby and I made a friendly wager over who can lose the most weight in 14 weeks. Typically, men lose faster. It’s just a fact. I do believe I might have an upper edge

as my sweetheart leans toward the Atkins method–eat bacon and eggs for breakfast. I smile and munch on my cereal–yes, loaded with carbs. But almost zero fat. Eating my style (which is a home Weight Watchers plan) helped me loose 60 pounds in one year the last time I really gave it

my best effort. Too bad some of those pounds have crept back on. I only have myself to blame.

So for the next 14 weeks, this is my plan. Watch 2 episodes of Sex and the City on the treadmill. Doing this at a 1.0 incline and a fair pace of 3.2 to 3.4, I burn 230ish calories and walk 2.5 miles. Each episode is approximately 28 minutes. That’s just under 50 minutes of walking, 5 days a week, which works out to 1,150 calories a week. I like that number better than the 230 per day which barely burns off a yogurt and a half making the exercise and semi-sweat not worth the effort. At 1,150 calories a week, that’s like one entire day of eating that I can burn off. If I eat like a rabbit.


But then there’s a small problem–I’ve seen every episode of this series several times. I could be asking for trouble and boredom. However, when watched from the beginning, one is lured back into the lives of four women who I would never want to be. Yes, I love the glitz and glamor of the show and the women, but I’m glad I’m me in Idaho, happily married. There are 98 episodes in 6 seasons. I’ve watched 7 episodes so far (I started walking over the weekend to help my arm–I have to swing it as I walk to losen it up.) That means I have 91 episodes left. I am in week 1 of the challenge. If I watch 2 episodes a day, that’s 10 episodes a week. I’m going to run out of episodes to watch in week 10. I think?

In any case, I’ll figure that out when I get to The End. In fact, I think the last disk of Season 6 is 1 hour so that would count as 2 episodes. Given that, burning 230ish calories a day, watching what I eat, should net me 10-15 pounds in 14 weeks. At least that’s my plan. If I can do that, I can fit into the carrot dangling in front of me. It’s not orange, rather gold, and it’s a fabulous Kay Unger dress I bought a size too small. Yes, I am a masochist. I knew it wouldn’t fit, but I refused to buy the size I’d need now.


I can get this dress on, but uh . . . I can’t really zip it up . . . too well. I’m half tempted to hang the dress up in front of me in our exercise room to give me motivation. In fact, I should paste a picture of it on the fridge, in my bathroom by the scale, and keep one in my purse for those times we eat out and I feel like ordering everying on the menu.

Wish me luck!

My Husband Is . . .




can fix anything, even his 1947 Ford tractor


doesn’t get enough sleep

admits when he’s wrong

can ask for forgiveness

makes me laugh

glomming James Patterson’s Alex Cross books



generous . . . to a fault

likes Mexican food after church



brings home flowers for no reason



enjoys my gourmet cooking and will eat frou-frou foods

likes to cook

has the best smile ever


isn’t bothered by his clutter–he knows where most everything is

enjoys our boat on the lake

an oustanding pilot

commands a mean BBQ on his Smith and Wesson grill

tolerates chick flicks

incredibly thoughtful

the best smoocher

always has a hug for me

a great father

the hearts in my eyes

a Superman


my HERO!

Happy Valentine’s Day