Some Things Are Worth Repeating

I'm a writer. I'm comfortable with my style; my abilities. But sometimes, I read things like this and wish these were my words:


I wish I could take language
And fold it like cool, moist rags.
I would lay words on your forehead.
I would wrap words on your wrists.
“There, there,” my words would say-
Or something better.
I would ask them to murmur,
“Hush” and “Shh, shh, it’s all right.”
I would ask them to hold you all night.
I wish I could take language
And daub and soothe and cool
Where fever blisters and burns,
Where fever turns yourself against you.
I wish I could take language
And heal the words that were the wounds
You have no names for.


Words For It
Julia Cameron

The Battle of the Bulge

The Battle of the Bulge is something I've fought nearly all of my adult life. It comes as no surprise that the older I get, the more the bulge gets the best of me.

It doesn't help when you have friends who are 5'8",weigh 112 pounds on a hefty day and wear size zero. Meanwhile I'm too short, weigh none-of-your-damn-business and wear size fat-in-the-ass.

The skinny friend recently went through a bout of uncontrolled weight loss. She was eating like a horse and still losing weight. Well, cry me a friggin' river, I thought. Oh, to have that problem.

But she kept wasting away and frankly, I began to worry about her health. She did, too. We made a trip to her endocrinologist together (she suffers from doctor's office anxiety and wanted some emotional support) and learned that she has hyperthyroidism. This is nothing to fool around with, and I know that.

But in the back of my mind, I couldn't help being jealous. Why does she get to have hyperthyroidism and lose all the weight? Why couldn't I have hyperthyroidism, too?

Now let me just share something about my twisted thoughts. In my mind, I should be able to choose the characteristics of hyperthyroidism that I want. Obviously, I just want the ones that result in drastic, faster-than-the-speed-of-light weight loss. I'll even handle the chronic diarrhea. But you can keep the resting pulse rate of 140 BPM, the inability to sleep and the nagging feeling that your insides are trying to vibrate right out of your body.

Also, in this fantasy world of mine, I could schedule my hyperthyroidism. It would last until I lost the appropriate amount of weight and then it would miraculously go away. I don't think that is too much to ask.

While whining about my weight to a friend this morning, she offered her seven step plan to becoming anorexic. We laughed heartily at the joke, but I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't considering following the steps. Not all of them are unhealthy. See for yourself:

The Skinny Girl's Guide to Becoming an Anorexic

1. When you feel hunger pangs, drink water.
2. Cravings typically only last 60 seconds. Distract, distract, distract.
3. Plan errands around mealtimes.
4. Use a small plate, such as a salad plate. Eat on a black plate, if possible and avoid eating on red or orange plates. (She gave a plausible explanation that's too long to share. Just trust me on this one)
5. Chop food into small pieces before eating and put your fork down between bites. Also, eat things that burns more calories eating them than the calories taken in by actually eating the food. Celery is an example.
6. Count how many times you chew your food before swallowing and double it.
7. Exercise daily. For hours.

Every Kiss Begins With K...

After a several-month hiatus, I've decided to started posting on my own personal little ol' blog again. I'll warn you now: it very likely will be sporadic. But here's something I wrote on another site on Feb. 13, that I will share here, just to give me an honest-to-God, up-to-date post:


Valentine’s Day came early for me this year and I can tell you this: the Kay Jewelers commercial is right when it says, “Every kiss begins with K.”

For me, that is “K” as in “Kel-Tec.”

Yes, gentle readers, my darling husband bought me a gun for Valentine’s Day. A Kel-Tec .380, to be exact. And he accompanied this token of his affection with these words: “Honey, this is the finest in purse weaponry.”

Ahhhh, say it again. Romance was in the air. The angels sang. Birds twittered. And then ducked for cover. Would-be burglars ran for the hills. And that damn barking dog next door sensed that something was up and he got a little quieter. Well, for a minute.

This Valentine’s Day, Cupid has nothing on me. My gun can out-shoot his arrow without a doubt. I know. I’ve already fired about 40 rounds of ammunition through it at the Tenoroc shooting range.

I will admit that this definitely is not the kind of handgun you want to target shoot with. It will beat your hand to death if you shoot 40 rounds of ammo through it in 20 minutes. The muscles in my forearm and hand are still feeling the punch this pistol packs.

But I say that’s a small price to pay. After all, we’re talking about having the finest in purse weaponry.