Weight For Me

The first quarter of 2008 is underway or as we like to call it in the Hula household, starvation season. Hubby started a diet Sunday. He’s participating in our Sunday school class’s annual Biggest Loser contest. I’m not, but we’re both going to be eating some bland food in the coming months because I’m not fixing separate meals, and it’s not fair to eat fattening food in front of him. Besides I want to be supportive of his effort to get back into his fat jeans…and then the skinny jeans. Actually, he would be happy with the not so tight they cut off his circulation jeans. Let the salads begin! Woo hoo! Seriously, it’s only Wednesday, and I’m already aching for fried potatoes.

I know it’s hard being on a diet, but it’s no stinkin’ fun living with someone who is on a diet either. Hungry people are craaaanky, and Hubby is no exception. Sample conversation:

Hula Girl: “Did you stop at the convenience store this morning and see your coffee buddies?”
Hubby: “Yeees,” through gritted teeth.
Hula Girl: “Was it hard not having a sausage egg biscuit and diet coke?”
Hubby: “Yeees.”
Hula Girl: “What did you have?”
Hubby: “Whole grain cereal, *%$# it!”

Then there’s the reaction I get every night when he asks what we’re having for dinner and I reveal the low fat, low cal, low taste selections. He gets all excited because he’s finally going to eat again and then disappointed that fried chicken hasn’t magically returned to the menu.

Hula Girl: “We’re having grilled chicken with green beans and corn.”
Hubby: “Oh.”
Hula Girl: “Is there something wrong with that?”
Hubby: “No.” Sigh. Pout. Sigh. Pout.

Or the accusations that come flying when I disappear into the kitchen for a while and don’t make any noise. You know how you holler at your kids to see what they’re up to if they get too quiet? That’s what he does to me.

Hubby: “What are you doing in there?”
Hula Girl: “Mmm. Nothing. Just counting the toothpicks.”
Hubby: “Are you eating something sweet?”
Hula Girl: “Mmmumm.”
Hubby: “It’s that leftover turtle cheesecake isn’t it? You’ve got some hidden.”
Hula Girl: “No. It’s all gone. I swear.” Swallow. “Now.”

This contest lasts four months. That’s four months of grilled chicken and salad greens. Four months of butt chewin’s when I ask if he’s walked today and four months of sneaking bites of circus peanuts and candy hearts behind his back. Four months of gobbling down
dessert and snack samples at Sam's while he's preoccupied with the DVD's. Woo hoo! Let the good times roll!

Early Signs

Almost daily I think about some of Teen Angel's habits and marvel at how early some of those traits began. I swear she began rolling her eyes at me at six months and hasn't stopped since. I think we're just born with some stuff. Sure, we can be trained to do certain things, but the pieces of our personality are there from the start. It's just hard to see sometimes because being a parent blurs your vision and makes you delirious. If you look closely though, the clues are there. Recently, I went through my baby album and realized there were signs of things to come for my parents and eventually my husband, child and friends. Big, red, flashing signs. Like:

My tendancy to be skeptical. What you talkin' 'bout Willis?

Or to stick my nose where it doesn't belong.

A sophisticated palate.

A knack for sleeping in and hogging the covers

Or to make an a$$ of myself and dare you to say something about it

To steal all of the attention. (I eventually chewed the cherries off of this dress.)

Or to put something silly on my head and party like it's 1999. Should it have been any surprise that 40 years later I was doing this:

Look Who's Talking

Although it’s been well documented on this site that the Hula’s don’t always know what the heck we’re saying, here is further proof. Just in case you need it. Which you don’t. But here it is anyway because what’s the point of blogging if you can’t reveal embarrassing things about your family to the whole world wide web.

Hubby to the clerk at Quiznos while ordering the Smokehouse sandwich-“I’ll take the outhouse beef sandwich”.

Baby Ruth while gazing at the hamsters on the front of a Hallmark card that plays the Hamster dance -“What are these? Butter beans"?

And the best laugh of the weekend….Teen Angel to me and Hubby while we were eating at our favorite hole in the wall and listening to Ted Nugent’s “Cat Scratch Fever” on the jukebox-“Hey mom, remember when I thought this song was “Scratch, Scratch Peter”?

Summer of '82

Sorry for the poor quality of the photo below, but I'm hampered by a lack of software tonight that will allow me to blow up and pretty up this gem from July of 1982. Look closely, though and you'll see why I'm posting it. This is the summer after my high school graduation. The summer of new beginnings: my first real love ( it would last four years), my first real job (up until this time I had made all my money mowing yards), the discovery of eye liner and the work toward reaching big dreams. As you can see way back in 1982 I was already dreaming of being a Rockette...and working on my pose. Too bad I wasn't wearing shoes.

Welcome Y'all

I got a good chuckle out of Swampy’s latest post. She had some really funny lines about the things that make Oklahoma folks special, and even though she was talking about Oklahoma, she could have substituted Kentucky for 98% of those items and been right on the money. I didn’t realize Oklahoma was so “southern” in its ways. I often roll my eyes at the amount of redneck-edness that surrounds me, and I hate for the rest of the country to think all Kentuckians are country bumpkins. However, the truth is I’m pretty proud of the area in which I live because despite the way we butcher the English language and act peculiar, we have some pretty good habits that I don’t always see when I go to other parts of the country. I feel an obligation to prop up our image by sharing some of these with you, dear readers, especially those of you who have not visited our fair state and have been led to believe that we marry our cousins and have children named Cooter.

1. We know how to throw a funeral. Each family has a fainter who passes out at the sight of the deceased. (Ours was Aunt Mabel.) Around here fainting is a sign of respect for the dear departed. In case you’re wondering, I’m not a fainter. Drivers pull over for an oncoming funeral procession. It’s an unwritten rule that you pull off the road and wait for a funeral procession to pass, whether you knew the deceased or not. It’s very moving for people to pull over for your loved one. Also, there is always a great meal after the funeral. It’s usually provided by your church family and includes ham and a variety of homemade dishes from the Feed the Bereaved committee. If you have no church family, one will be appointed for you.

2. We know our neighbors. In fact, we know their schedules, their relatives and their vices. I can tell you the last time Mr. R.’s electric meter was read, when the O.’s are going to be back from vacation and how many times last week that R.’s girlfriend spent the night. In turn, they know that my parents visit on Sunday afternoons, that Mama J. is going to have hernia surgery and that Hubby spends a half hour at Huck’s convenience store every morning drinking Diet Coke and shooting the bull. We don’t call this nosiness, we call it Neighborhood Watch. Someone asked me not too long ago if I had an alarm system at my house, and I said, “No. I have Marie”. She’s my neighbor and will call me at work if someone suspicious shows up in my driveway during the day. Heck, she even knows to call Hubby at Huck’s if the prowler shows up in the morning between 7:15 and 7:45.

3. We make friends wherever we go. We will strike up a conversation with anyone anywhere. We make friends in the line at Wal-Mart, in the bathroom at Outback and on the way to the operating room. We also share with strangers all kinds of personal information other folks might not divulge, like our constipation problems, our child’s rehab stint and the name of the dealer Uncle Lester uses to buy glaucoma marijuana. We may divulge too much, but we are friendly people. If you ask us for directions and you seem confused, we will tell you to jump in our pickup and we’ll just drive you there.

4. We make time for pie. We’re good at it. We’re almost always armed with pie and we know how to use it. We use it to feed your face and nourish your soul. Pie is a good and righteous thing. It keeps you from rushing through your meal It causes you to slow down and savor the moment. We think pie cures just about everything, especially coconut cream pie.

So if you’re wandering through the Bluegrass State anytime soon, be sure to wave and say hello. We’ll wave back. In fact, we’ll probably strike up a conversation with you, ask about your relatives and give you directions to a really good restaurant that serves dessert. And rest assured that if you croak while you’re in our fair state, we’ll also give you a great sendoff.

Knock, Knock

The folks at Publisher’s Clearinghouse are promising me (again) that I will win lots o’ money for the rest of my life if I just enter their sweepstakes. They beckon me to “send it in” every night from my television. That sounds very appealing because I sure could use $5000 a week for the rest of my life. Teen Angel’s taste in jeans is enough to make me go broke, and baby (that’s me) needs..er wants..new shoes (again). Yes sir, I could use that money. But I won’t enter. Why? Because I don’t want the nation watching me over and over again in a videotaped check presentation that reveals what I really look like when someone shows up at my front door unannounced.

First of all I would have to chase down my yappin’ miniature schnauzer that has more bark than sense. Then I would have to wrestle him into his crate while I shout, “Hang on, I’m coming,” at a volume that would make a champion hog caller proud. A mad search for a robe would follow because I find no reason to wear anything but pajamas when in the confines of my home. And while I would be mighty surprised by the balloon crew on the other side of my door, they would probably get a bigger shock out of my appearance. My “at home” look is stunning. Absolutely out of this world.

If it’s a good day, I’ll be in my newest pajamas…the ones with the flannel leopard print pants..circa 2003. The top has some kind of cake batter stain on the front, a badge from a spoon licking accident. I’ll probably be wearing gray socks that are supposed to be white. My feet get cold easily. I don’t like cold feet. Also, the socks make it easier to skate down the hallway on the hardwood floors. However, if the laundry is backed up and I’m having a sock shortage, I could be wearing those blue fuzzy footies we got from Mama J.’s last hospital stay. My robe will hide the fact that I chucked the Playtex Cross Your Heart the minute I got home. I have a beautiful new robe Teen Angel gave me for Christmas. It’s blue with yellow stars and moons and beats the heck out of the old purple one I buried last week. It clashes with the leopard print pants, though. An ensemble that special calls for a special hairdo. My typical upsweep consists of a white bandana twisted and tied around my head like a headband with my hair twisted into a wad and stuck to the back of my head with a giant barrette. I call it the cockatoo do. It’s a lovely look.

Over the years my neighbors have been kind enough to overlook my appearance when they’ve knocked on my door or stumbled upon me at 5:30am while I’m walking the dog. It’s one reason we haven’t moved to another neighborhood. I’m afraid I’d have to wear more clothes or better clothes to the mailbox. My current neighbors accept me, leopard pants and all. I’m afraid the Publisher’s Clearinghouse folks wouldn’t. So thanks, Ed, for the offer of lifelong riches, but I’ll have to pass. I might take some new pajamas though. Got any of those?

"List"less

I'm not really very good about making new year's resolutions. I just get a whim to do something at some point in the year and try to be disciplined enough to make it happen. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. I'm an all or nothing gal. Either I throw my whole being into something or I leave it untouched. Frankly, on this last day of vacation I don't feel like touching anything. I had to peel myself out of the recliner just to type this. If lazy were a sport, I would have won a gold medal by lunchtime today. Tomorrow it's back to the grindstone and no more slacking off about important things like nutrition, laundry and hygiene. Shucks, I'll even have to put on real clothes tomorrow.

I have some general goals for the year like taking good care of myself and increasing my mileage when I run. It seems kind of silly to write those down. However, I do have a lot of little things I've been putting off that I should resolve to take care of this year. Those will require some diligence because they are all things I'd rather not do. Most of them involve cleaning. Blech. You know how I excel at that. (Insert insane laughter here.) I've put this stuff off long enough, so I suppose I should put on my big girl britches and get cracken' on it. I'm making a list, so I won't forget any of this stuff. Strap on your seatbelt, and here we go.

1. Clean out my sock drawer and throw away anything with holes, stains and lack of a mate. Anything bought before 1993 should go. The sixteen pair of tights in multiple colors should go. After all, winter walking shorts went out of style several years ago.
2. Figure out how to use the new vaccum cleaner.
3. Use the new vaccum cleaner.
4. Get rid of the colony of dust bunnies that have built condos under our bed.
5. Clean out my underwear drawer. Throw out anything that is ripped, stretched or faded. Anything bought before 1993 should go. Okay, 1992. That was the year I got the great deal on the Jockey three pack of briefs at J.C. Penney's.
6. Buy some pretty underwear, not the Hanes cotton value pack I've been married to for the last ten years.
7. Clean out the three junk drawers in the kitchen. REALLY clean them, not just shuffle the stuff around.
8. Wash the curtains in the bathroom since the dust is making them look mauve instead of red.
9. Clean out my shoe cubicle in the dressing room. Get rid of anything that pinches, squeezes, squeaks or slips. If they haven't been worn in two years they should go. This includes the twenty pair of flip-flops crammed in various corners.
10. On a day when I'm feeling very brave....clean out the drawer in the bathroom vanity. It will take me until October to work up the courage for that one.

I'll stop now. It's making me stressed just thinking about all of the cleaning on that list. I wouldn't want to wipe out the effects of my vacation. I'll go rest now and get started on that list tomorrow....Friday at the latest. Or maybe Monday.