And Somehow I'm Not Starving

Disclaimer: Extreme ranting is to follow.

I'm so sick of not being able to eat what I want.

I miss the days of endless Western Bacon Cheeseburgers and Taco Bell Marathons.

Now I have to stop and think about how every bite I take is going to effect me later. Or tomorrow.

Do I dare list the foods that I've had to cut out over the last decade?

And how would I break that list down? Alphabetically? Chronologically? In order of importance to my taste buds? Or should I categorize by the effects each food has on my aging body?

I am eating better than ever, but still weigh 40 pounds more than when I would scarf down 1 crunchy taco, 2 soft taco supremes and 2 burritos. For lunch.

I miss Dr. Pepper. I miss all the sodas. (or should I say pops because I live in Utah now?)

I miss mayonnaise.

I miss milk shakes.

Last night I drank water while my friends slurped down strawberry daiquiris because I didn't want to have shakes from all the sugar.

Do you know that I'm now off popcorn? (you do NOT want to know what popcorn does to me)

I miss spinach dip and sour dough bread.

Oh my gosh I miss brownies.

I'm not even going to mention dairy.

I'm even off of healthy stuff - granola! Do you remember how I was making granola every week about this time 2 years ago?

Are you ready for the latest?! I'm trying to go off chocolate! Because even the smallest bite has me wide awake from midnight to 3:30am. How is a GIRL over 30 supposed to go off chocolate?!

I miss Tummy's sub-sandwiches. Remember how I used to put those away?

You'd think that this post would have come last week when I was PMSing. It's been brewing in the back of my mind ever since.

Oh! and doughnuts! I wish I could have a doughnut - say twice a year.

I wonder if the SuperBowl has had something to do with this pity party. Because really, what kind of 'SuperBowl' food can I eat? Maybe it's time for me to invent the 'SuperBowl Salad' or the 'Superbowl Smoothie'.

Berries! I've had to go off berries. The seeds!

By the way: I'm still 34. Not 84 as my diet would suggest.

The Next Chapter

How are the batteries in your PaceMaker?

Maybe you should have a seat?

No, all these precautions are for me. Not you... because Maddie and I went to New Beginnings last night.

Yes. Maddie. Me.

I did okay. Only 3, maybe 4 tears when they recited the theme.

I'll get stronger.

No worries.

History Lesson

How is your knowledge of history?

Mine? So-so.

I watched this yesterday. Alone. Just me. On my beloved couch.

Admit it, our knowledge of this story wasn't much more than what Ouiser tells Miss Clairee while they're at the salon.

So after I watched, I went on-line to check out the movie's accuracy. I am shocked! I don't want to be a spoiler, but let's face it, you know it's not a happy ending for Ann. There's a lot to be learned by this little show, and I thought I was just sitting down to a chick flick. But I will warn you, some of the scenes have been sort of haunting me ever since - it's a bit disturbing.

And yet I highly recommend it.

PS This is so NOT a family movie. Just for you. And maybe your sweetheart.

Who Told You to Say That?

Thanks, Tom.

I hope you feel better. I'm sure your agent and manager had a coronary the day of your "Un-American" comment.

PS It doesn't feel like an apology. But whatever. I'm over it.

Bosom Buddies No Longer

Dear Tom,

I have been a faithful friend for many years, just about as long as you've been in the business.

You were there for me when David and I went on our first date.

Not to mention the hours that we've spent together on my couch.

I have to tell you that you've been on my nerves for quite some time thanks (or no thanks) to your Big Project. What in the world possessed you to do be involved in that?

And now you've crossed a line, and I am no longer speaking to you.

Please forward my belongings to me, and I will do the same for you.

I hope that someday you'll be able to see the whole picture.

Until then,

Jess

Now It's Just a Memory

When David finally joined the kids and I in California two weeks ago, and for the first time 'alone' in six years, he whisked me away to Bodega Bay.

David made all the arrangements; he booked the resort, and even pre-ordered the snacks:

(but really, how romantic is it to feed your woman soft cheese? not a time for lactose.)

Now, no matter the time of year, the Northern California coast is not a tropical paradise with the sun beating down. We've taken family trips in the middle of July that required hoodies and blankets on the beach.

But the Northern California coast is magic.

And therapeutic.

Presenting

Because you are my friend, and because I love you, I am here to provide you free therapy, fresh from the ocean:

We had a blast and wished we could have stayed longer, especially because the forecasted temperature for that Saturday was 70 degrees.

Go ahead, watch the Free Therapy again. I will join you.

The Getaway

Who needs France when you have the Napa-Sonoma Valleys?

Let me paint you a picture...

Bright green hills filled with immaculate rows of grape vines up and down the hillsides as far as the eye can see. Though the winter has left the vines bare from leaves, the grass beneath keeps it all lush and beautiful. Wineries and quaint houses dot the scenery.

Did I mention it's a balmy 60 degrees?

David and I zip along the two-lane curved highway; alone in his convertible, snacking on Harry and David chocolates.

Alone. Did you get that? I said "alone".

It was magic.

Okay, so we were in his Camry, not a convertible. But the rest is true.

And my stomach was jacked up afterward from scarfing down so many chocolate truffles.

It was still magic, though.

Not Yet an Empty Nest

Our family has recently had an 'End of Era', sort of speak.

With Jamesson turning 20 on December 20, and for the first time in 21 years: my parents are raising teenagers no more.

I officially hit teenage-dom in 1987, before Jamesson was even born.

Since then they were able to survive the teenage years of Jill, Julia, Jordan, and then Jamesson.

I wonder who they say put them through the most.

Gave them the most laughs.

Handed them the most sleep-less nights.

Summoned the gray hairs.

And in no particular order: who required their attendance at the most band concerts?

Either way, the cycle isn't quite complete. It's now time for the next generation of teenagers; and my mom and dad can sit back and laugh, smirk, worry and lose more sleep.

So far: no band concerts.