Last week, I took the boys out to get cowboy hats and a pair of boots.

Hubby wanted to know why the boys “needed” them.

I told him that all Texas boys need a pair of boots and a cowboy hat.

There’s just something about a cowboy that makes you smile.

And once those hats settled on these cute little heads, I nearly went weak at the knees.

Because there’s just something about a cowboy.

So, I think it’s time to confess my dirty little secret.

I’m overweight.

Not like it’s a huge secret, I mean anyone who sees me – knows that I’m overweight, by a lot.  I don’t feel comfortable enough to share how much I weigh, or how much I could stand to lose – at least for now.  Maybe as I move forward with this in the weeks and months to come, I’ll feel confident enough to share.  But for now, let’s just say I could stand to lose a few pounds.

It’s not like this is a revelation.  I know it, and known it for years.  I’ve tried all sorts diets and schemes.  Some work, some don’t – all of them have required more effort than I was willing to put into it.  Ergo, none of them worked in the long run.

When we were on vacation a couple of weeks ago in San Antonio.  I was really overcome by the thought that I have to do something about my weight.  There was no major event that caused this.  I didn’t fall into the river.  I didn’t have any embarrassing moments.  I just realized as I was staring out at the skyline from our balcony that I don’t want to be like this anymore.  So, I set a goal to lose 30 pounds.  I don’t have a required time frame because I tend to take myself WAY too seriously and quit if I don’t meet all points of the goal.

So, 30 lbs. with a time frame of “get it done, but do it right, and don’t try to kill yourself in the process.”  I know I’m not going to be one of “The Biggest Loser”s and get it all done in 2 weeks.   But I also know that if I’m left to my own devices, nothing will happen.  Something had to change in order for me to move toward this 30 lb. goal.

And, that change is official – I have joined Weight Watchers.

I’ve been doing it for a week now, and for the first time ever – I really feel like I can do this.  I don’t ever remember feeling like this after one week on any other plan.  Sure there were some where I lost tons of weight, but I knew what I did to lose it couldn’t be done for the long haul.  But this WW thing, I really think I can do this!

I love that I can eat normal food, just smaller portions. I don’t have to buy any pre-packaged meals or eat only prescribed foods.  I like that I can still have my coffee the way that I like it, which is a little coffee with my cream.   I like that I don’t have to give any particular food items up.  I like that I’m learning (or rather, re-learning) proper portion sizes.  I like that I’m learning to pay attention to everything I eat.  I like that I have a buddy to go with me to the meetings.  I like that I’m moving toward a healthier me.  And, I like that it has an impact on my immediate family because I’m pretty sure Hubby’s going to end up losing a few pounds, too.

Tonight, I had my second weigh-in.  I lost 3.8 lbs. this week.  Can you believe it?!  Nearly 4 pounds the week of Halloween!  I’m so proud of myself, I think I could bust.

A couple of weeks ago, I looked out my back window and saw this guy.  I was fascinated and creeped out all at the same time.   So, I opened the window and removed the screen so I could zoom in and get these shots.

He reminded me of the old Kermit song, “It ain’t easy being green.”

Title:  The Help: A Novel

Author: Kathryn Stockett

Publication Information: Putnam Adult; 1 edition (February 10, 2009), 464 pps.

Genre: Literature & Fiction/Historical Fiction

Explanation/Summary:

From the back cover:

In Jackson, Mississippi, in 1962, there are lines that are not crossed. Black maids raise the white children, but no one trusts them not to steal the silver. Black maids clean the toilets, but they have their own out back. Everyone stays within the lines. But, suddenly, three women Aibileen, Minny, and Skeeter find themselves tired of the lines.

Analysis and Evaluation:

Last weekend, the boys and I headed out to the local park for the annual “Pecan Festival.”  I realized once we got home that I didn’t actually see any pecans.  (They are harvested around Thanksgiving.)  Hmmm.  Maybe the city planners need to reschedule the festival so that city residents might actually see some pecans.  It would also be much more pleasant to traipse around the park in 60-70 degree weather, as opposed to the 90 degree weather we had Saturday.  Oh well…

Anyway, we went for the rides, and the bounce houses, and the booths that have giveaways – and of course, the food.  There is just something about “fair food” that is wonderful.  Even though it probably ranks among “Worst Possible Food FOR You”, it tastes wonderful.   And, I think there is some sort of unwritten law that states “fair food” when possible, must be on a stick.

My boys LOVE food on a stick.

Several months ago, actually 6 months, 1 week, and 5 days (but who’s counting),  my husband started on a project in our back yard.   Since the day he started, the yard has been in a state of disrepair and frankly it looks awful.  I know it won’t stay like this forever.  In fact, now that the weather is cooling off construction will likely resume on the landscaping  in the near future.

All summer, I’ve longed for something to look nice in our yard.  Even though I didn’t pray for it, God heard my heart.  He sent an invader from the neighbor’s yard – a creeping vine with beautiful blue flowers.

Thank you, God for sending me an answered prayer.

Three years ago today, I officially joined the “Mom” club.  Although, I had assumed the Mommy role and the boys called me Mommy since the day of their placement 18 months prior.  This was the day the state of Texas named Hubby and I as the parents of Woody and Tigger.

On one hand, it’s hard to believe that it was only three years ago.  On the other hand, it seems so long ago.  As I was remembering the events of that day, I realized how far we have come in three years.  Of course, the boys have grown and learned – but oh my, oh my – I think I am the one who has learned the most.  Like most mothers, I’ve learned about love, forgiveness, how to create a meal out of a can of tomatoes and a jar of peanut butter, and how to survive with a minimal amount of sleep.  But there are so many other things I’ve learned that I didn’t realize would come with motherhood.

I’ve learned that furniture can be rearranged when it is necessary to hide the Sharpie marker scribbles that were made by a certain child on the side of a bookshelf unit.

I’ve learned the names of most of the Marvel comic characters.

I learned the theme songs to “Dora the Explorer”, “The Backyardigans”, “Between the Lions”, “Sid the Science Kid”, and “Martha Speaks.”  I’ve also learned about all of the characters on the shows.

I’ve learned to despise “Caillou” for his whiney voice, “Word Girl” for continually lying to her parents, and “Sid the Science Kid” because Sid’s classmate, Gerald, has to be told 2 or 3 times before he will do what Teacher Suzy instructs him to do.

I’ve learned that if a shirt gets washed with a sticker, chances are, the shirt will never again be the same – even with Goo-Gone.

I’ve learned that pasta, tomato sauce, and meat can be loved or hated – it all depends on the pasta shape.  Long, thin spaghetti noodles called “spaghetti with meat sauce” = good.  Short, stubby elbow macaroni noodles called “goulash” = bad.

I’ve learned that no matter what I say, my boys will always think that farts are funny.  Ditto for belching.

I’ve learned that no matter what I say, my boys constantly have their fingers buried up their noses or laced between their toes. (And let me just say “GRRRRRROOOOOOSSSSSSSS!”

I’ve learned that a boy can walk over/around/on top of something for days on end without ever thinking to stop and pick up or move said item.

I’ve learned that I will struggle and search to find the perfect toy for my beautiful boy, only to have said beautiful boy toss the toy aside and play with the box.

I’ve learned that a snack almost always improves present circumstances.

I’ve learned that a nap can change almost anything.

And I’ve learned that being a Mom is the toughest job I’ve ever had – but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  I can hardly wait to see what Woody and Tigger are going to teach me next.

God answers prayers, even prayers about dogs.

My sweet Alvin is gone. I was his Mommy exactly 12 years and 3 days.

He was born August 20, 1997.

He became my beagle baby September 20, 1997.

He left for the Rainbow Bridge September 23, 2009.

He will be missed.

Twelve years ago this week, I brought home my best friend, Alvin.  He’s the softest, cuddliest, beagle boy you could ever know.  I got him one month after I moved to Seattle.

Truth be told, he chose me.  I went to a home with a litter of beagle pups they were wanting to sell.  She had the whole crew out playing in the kitchen so I could see them.  One little guy came over and started playing with my shoe laces, I loved on him and went to go look at the others but he wouldn’t let me.  He pulled on my shoe laces again.  I grabbed a toy to distract him, but in true stubborn-beagle form, he wouldn’t let me go.  He had made his choice, and I just couldn’t argue with his cute adorable face.

Since then, he’s seen me through thick and thin.  He’s loved me no matter what.  He rode shotgun for nearly 2000 miles when I trekked across the country from Seattle back to Texas.  He was with me when I was single and now that I’m married.  He’s heard more of my secrets than any other living being.  He’s been an only dog and he’s been one of three family dogs.  He’s gone on hundreds of walks.  He learned a few commands and will obey them for the most part.  He loves just about anything I cook, and would probably fight to the death for Garlic Mashed Potatoes.  And he’s the best snuggler on the planet.

Tonight, my beagle-boy is spending his second night in the doggie hospital.  He’s hooked up to an IV to help hydrate him and he’s had pain meds to assuage the effects of suspected pancreatitis.   I’m really hoping and praying that he’ll get to come home, but I fear that we might be nearing the end of our time together.

I believe that God answers all prayers, even if He doesn’t give us the answer we want to hear.  So, tonight I’m asking for your prayers.  I am praying that Alvin will be healed.  I’d love for him to be healed here and now, but I’m willing to accept that God will heal him so that he can wait for me at the Rainbow Bridge.  Either way, I’ll take what I can get.  I just want my best friend to get better.

Title:  Julie and Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen

Author: Julie Powell

Publication Information: Little, Brown and Company (September 28, 2005), 320 pps.

Genre: Biography/Memoir/Cooking Essays

Explanation/Summary:

From the back cover:

With the humor of Bridget Jones and the vitality of Augusten Burroughs, Julie Powell recounts how she conquered every recipe in Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking and saved her soul.

Julie Powell is 30-years-old, living in a rundown apartment in Queens and working at a soul-sucking secretarial job that’s going nowhere. She needs something to break the monotony of her life, and she invents a deranged assignment. She will take her mother’s dog-eared copy of Julia Child’s 1961 classic Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and she will cook all 524 recipes. In the span of one year.

At first she thinks it will be easy. But as she moves from the simple Potage Parmentier (potato soup) into the more complicated realm of aspics and cr�epes, she realizes there’s more to Mastering the Art of French Cooking than meets the eye. With Julia’s stern warble always in her ear, Julie haunts the local butcher, buying kidneys and sweetbreads. She sends her husband on late-night runs for yet more butter and rarely serves dinner before midnight. She discovers how to mold the perfect Orange Bavarian, the trick to extracting marrow from bone, and the intense pleasure of eating liver.

And somewhere along the line she realizes she has turned her kitchen into a miracle of creation and cuisine. She has eclipsed her life’s ordinariness through spectacular humor, hysteria, and perseverance.

Analysis and Evaluation: