Caturday's with Opie

This is the new weekly fun at Woodstock Lily's
called 'Caturday's with Opie'.
He'll be modeling my hair styles through the years.
For those of you who've grown up with me
you already know this will be scary...
errrr I mean hairy.
I've had more hair styles and colors including
some I'd prefer not to show you but...
The show must go on.
Yes, that's his tongue sticking out.
No photoshop on that.
Just a taste of the antics of a cat that wears monkey pants.
Everyday, all day.

Me in 2nd grade.
I was missing my two front teeth
and desperately wanted to hide that fact.
Had I known Opie's tongue trick I'd have done it.

The similarities in the two of us are alarming close
yet not in a Deliverance kind of way...
This is just the beginning of more silliness.
Lord, I love silliness.

As a footnote...

Opie Taylor found love on the web this past week. I was Skyping with an old friend from CA and he jumped up on my lap to see what I was doing. My friend, Betsi, saw him and pulled her cat Molly up to show me. Opie saw her, too. He made a Scoobie Doo noise just like all men do when they see a hot chick, and instantly fell in love. Yes, friends, I have a smitten kitten. I just hope the timing for the debut of Caturday's With Opie doesn't throw a monkey wrench into the monkey pants.

Going Commando....

In the mid seventies, my best friend and I traveled through Mexico by train and hitchhiking. It was a 2 month long trip I could write a book about. Here is one story from the adventure. Carol and I did a lot of hitchhiking in those days. We followed our free hippie spirits wherever they led us. Those were different times, magical times and youth played a huge part in many choices I made. I still have that spirit inside me but nowadays I weigh things out before sticking my thumb out to follow a wild idea without proper safety gear---or attire. I learned a valuable lesson during that trip.

So with backpacks packed to max and my guitar slung over my shoulder... off we went.

My friend Steve took us to Mexicali where we needed to catch our train. We arrived early afternoon. I could smell adventure in the air, and wanted to ride it like a stallion. We parked the car and got out to explore the city on foot. Steve, who was a family friend, was nervous about our plans to travel unescorted through Mexico. Despite him wanting to handcuff us to him for safety reasons, he reluctantly followed along behind us.

People were lined up on the streets so we pushed through the crowd to see what was going on. A parade was heading our way. The circus had come to town, and they were seducing every man, woman and child to follow them to the circus tents set up in a large arena nearby. How could anyone resist an invitation as sweet as this? Loud music, clowns, acrobats, caged tigers and brightly painted elephants... sweet surrender.

It was a hot day and I was grateful I'd worn my sundress; a short, short sundress, a favorite of mine. Carol had on cutoff shorts and a halter top. We stood out in the crowd of locals, Carol being blond and Scandinavian looking, and me being tall, and wearing a dress that barely covered my tush. Steve noticed the Mexican men had no objections to overtly voicing their approval of two gringo senoritas. He almost growled at the lustful men gawking at us. Carol and I laughed off his sudden 'big brother' attitude. I think back now at how gallant, and caring he was. He was my brothers best friend, and felt responsible for us. He followed us, as we followed the circus, to the arena.

We climbed up the bleachers to get a good seat to watch the preview show of what we could expect to see inside the big tent. I'd never been to a circus before and was swept up in the excitement like dust on a Swifter pad. The men handling the wild animals and elephants noticed Carol and I in the stands. They began making eye contact, and gestures as if showing off for us. Truthfully I was more charmed by the elephants. I loved them since I first saw the Disney movie 'Dumbo'. My lifetime dream had been to ride an elephant so I was fantasizing about an elephant ride not a rendezvous with a circus worker.

When the preview show broke up the men motioned for us to come down from the stands to join them. Who can resist a man with an elephant? Not I! Down I came stepping over small children as if they were hurdles. I wanted to touch, pet, hug and look an elephant in the eye--directly. I fell into the arms opportunity with no reservations. My dream was coming true.

I suppose the circus workers knew an elephant had charms to draw women to them just as a puppy does. There was no hiding my joy and gratitude for being asked to see the elephants. I was putty in their hands. I marveled at the elephant's eyes so small yet so wise, and trunks reaching out to touch my skin and their huge feet shifting weight back and forth rhythmically, hypnotically. I was drunk on peanut breath and their giant ears that fanned my face in the sweltering heat.
A crowd had formed around us by now. One of the men invited Carol and I to take a ride on the elephants. I couldn't contain my joy. I squealed out loud like a monkey being handed a banana. The men used a stick to signal the elephants to kneel down so we could climb up. It was still a long way up even after they knelt. Carol accepted the boost up by a couple of guys and I watched as her elephant rose up graciously with her on its back.

I moved to the bent knee of my elephant, which makes a step at the elbow, to mount it just as Carol had done. The elephants handlers bent down, and cupped their hands for me to put my foot in for my boost up. I grabbed a hold of the side of the elephant's ear per their instruction when I noticed an alarming sight. Underneath the polka dots painted on the thick skin was some of the meanest, baddest, wiriest hairs I'd ever seen. They looked like porcupine quills or thick needles poking up everywhere. They felt like it, too. That's when I remembered an important item.

I was not prepared for an elephant ride that day.

Firstly the short skirt I was wearing exposed a lot of skin. Secondly, and most importantly, having a carefree spirit as I did... I went commando all the time. Yes, yes, yes, I know! What was I thinking by going without my panties wearing a short skirt???? Truth of the matter I never gave it a thought. I never once thought anyone would know I wasn't wearing underwear. My skirt covered my ass... well barely... now that I'm looking back on it with wiser eyes. (one day I'll tell you another story about wearing that same dress horseback riding.... Lord I just realized I may have been an exhibitionist. Holy CRAP!)

In my defense, where I came from was a large hippie community in Ojai, CA and none of my friends wore underwear either. Heck we hung out at the nude swimming holes, nude beaches and regularly participated in sweat lodges... sans bathing suits, too. HOWEVER... suddenly this was not so cool in another country, hundreds of miles away from the safety of my com padres back at the commune I lived in.

There was no blanket on the elephant's back. I thought of the hairs poking my... ummmm... well no need to paint you a picture at this point. I'm sure you have a visual now whether or not you wanted one. Next, I thought of the guys hoisting me up and the entire crowd of people seeing my 'woo-hoo' as I straddled the elephant. I turned a bright shade of yellow like the cowardly lion. The men saw my hesitation and started chanting in unison for me to slip my foot in their hands. It was then I also realized they must have know I had no panties on from their view of the bleachers as I sat there childlike (and probably unladylike unbeknown to me) watching the parade. Oh Lawdy... I'd only been in Mexico for an hour and I already had made some memories.

Inside I was so mad at myself for not having my cutoffs on like Carol. They were leading her around like the Queen of the jungle while my butt got a rash just thinking about rubbing against the coarse hairs I never knew elephants had before seeing one up close and personal. I didn't want my butt to know this kind of intimacy EVER and backed slowly away from the elephant, the now disappointed men, and chose to spare the small children the peep show.

The moral of the story???
If you want to ride an elephant
in the circus
you GOTZ to have your
monkey pantz on...

I now have this on my 101 list.
Ride an elephant...
with my monkey pantz on.

The End
(pun intended)

For those of you who are new to my blog or just passing through there's a definition of monkey pantz on my sidebar, and here is the link to my 101 Creative To Do list. 101 LIST

Mile Markers

Look. A mile marker. I am almost to my one year anniversary for my blog. I started it without knowing if anyone would even read it. I started it because I needed to heal, find something to do while I healed, and to lift my spirits. I started it to light my creative heart on fire, and actually create a list of all the things I wanted to do with my wonderful life. I understood I had been spared from dying and have been grateful beyond words to have another shot at living my dreams. But first I needed to heal, and I had no idea I would still be in the learning curve of how to get back into the game of life nearly 2 years after the auto accident.

I'm OK with that. OK with taking care of me. OK with what I've learned from the 'gift' of an unexpected life altering change wrapped in a package called... PTSD. This is a gift I'm learning from and hopefully helping others who have PTSD heal, too.

Art heals. Writing heals. Music heals. Having a good therapist (thanks Dr. Ed and Mary) helps me heal. Having supportive family & friends helps me heal. (thanks, Jake & Ash. thanks, Mommy. thanks, my dear Dylan. thanks to so many of you! I cannot list all of your names individually for fear I will omit someone special) Having a real live Superman in my life has helped me heal. Having Opie Taylor, errrr I mean Opie Wan Kenobi here at my side faithfully has helped me heal. Having met so many of you here online in the blog world has helped me heal. I started keeping track of how many people stop by about a month after I started my blog. WOW!!!

Over 20,000!!!!

And for those of you who fly by, read my blog without ever letting me know you were here. Thank you so very, very much. The numbers tell me you were here, and come back over & over to see how I'm doing. Thank you so much. I feel like you are angels popping in to bless me.

My 101 Creative To Do List is up if you'd like to see what I've accomplished this past 11 months. CLICK HERE TO SEE LIST

I'm moving into warp speed to complete a bunch more on the list before the official one year anniversary. There's a contest I promised you coming up, too. In fact several. I didn't forget the contest I mentioned when Lisa received her painting from the last contest. [insert HUGE smile here] You can read about it here. LISA's Painting

Opie has some tricks up his monkey pantz to show you, too. We are officially into the count down of the one year mile marker. Let's get this party started!

We need to let some of the party favors
outta da monkey pantz...

My Interview with Laura Hollick

So what does one wear for a Skype interview??? The same things newscasters wear under their desks.... A bright, bold colored pair of Monkey Pantz. Uh huh. Just like I promised. Neon, baby. Hey a girl has to do what ever it takes to keep the sass in her pantz. Here's some info about Laura. I love this woman's spirit!

Laura Hollick

Laura Hollick is one of the emerging creative thinkers in the Human Potential movement that is sweeping our planet. She is redefining art as a way of living and inspiring people around the world to create their lives as a work of art. Selected from across Canada, BRAVO TV created a documentary about Laura's life and work, called 'The Artist's Life'. She has hosted and produced over 500 radio shows and published over 200 articles on creativity and lifestyle that expresses the creative spirit.

Laura’s personal art is a reflection of her unique creative spirit. She often combines elements of nature and transforms them into imaginary worlds that seduce us to deepen our awareness and lead us home to spirit. Laura’s work is an inspirational feast for the soul. In 2008 Laura was nominated for "Artist of the Year' and in 2009 was voted 'Best Female Artist' by View Magazine.

At the heart of it all Laura's work is a deep desire to connect with spirit and connect spirit with the world, to grow spirit on earth. She says, "My life is my soul's work. I am here to create my masterpiece--myself."

Check out my audio interview with Laura and her studio, Soul Art. And my Monkey Pantz below...

Click Here for the Laura Hollick Interview

Please leave a comment on Laura's blog to let her know you were there...

Psssstttttt.... FYI

Superman Delivers

How many girls can say they got flowers, lilies to be specific, from Superman? Aren't they beautiful? Oh baby, he does more than deliver... [that may have sounded kinky...] I'll have to get one of those blogs with an adult content warning to proceed... Nah... never mind... There's just some stuff ya'll don't need to know anything about.

What I meant to say is that Superman anticipates my needs before I do as well as what would bring me joy, peace, a smile or will bring healing to my body, and mind. It has to be that X-ray vision. He can see into my soul. Truly he can.

If you knew how many times I ask him when we're driving, "Can you slow down please?" He answers sweetly, "Sure, Wonder Woman." Even when he's already going 10 miles slower than the speed limit... He never rolls his eyes when I say, "I don't like that car!!!" (for the umpteenth time in 5 minutes) My PTSD tells me the auto is coming straight for our car or is going to weave into our lane. He never makes me feel silly for gasping or hiding my face in my lap. He just moves over in another lane or slows down. On some days I may have more triggers than others. He reaches over and pats my hand or leg.

So when I recently became infected with worms he never flinched! Nope not once... In fact he was the one who diagnosed me.

Oh did I say "me"?? I meant to say my puter had worms. Boy... Opie just ran out of here like a wild man. Nobody likes to hear the word worms unless you're going fishing. And a cat certainly doesn't want to hear you say they have worms or wants to eat a "funny shaped piece of cheese" with a hard cylinder inside it... Cats and dogs always know when you're trying to hide a pill in their kibbles. But what you don't always know is when your puter has become a home for critters of the viral type, the worms of cyber space, the bots and villains that prey on the innocents. Until it is too late. Creepy....

But who is Superman's alter ego? Clark Kent. Mild mannered computer wizard. He's not afraid of no stinking worms. So if you were wondering where I've been...

I was hiding under the bed.
The bots know where I live.

Well not really... but I've been without my laptop for awhile. So I'm very happy to be back here in Blogville. I missed you all terribly!

Thank you all for all the love you sent my way for my Mom and my son. Jake, Ashley & Emery are leaving early Saturday morning for CA to visit his dad. Please keep them in your thoughts. They're driving from here (OH) to CA. Long trip with a baby.

My Mom is home, and is doing really well. Her surgery went much better than we could have hoped for. I can't even begin to tell you how happy that makes all of us.

Stay tuned. I have some really cool things to share with you in upcoming posts! New art. Pics of the Lily Pad. A blog radio interview. An update about the contest I mentioned having about a month ago. [see how I just tossed out a teeny, tiny tidbit about a totally, freaking, sah-weet blog radio interview like it was lettuce on a sandwich when actually I'm about to wee muh giddy self from sheer excitement???]

Plus, a peeecture of me wearin' muh monkey pantz... Uh huh... Neon, baby.

Thighs Does Matter

There's one kind of robbery that's the worst kind of all. Oh it's sneaky, and if you're not watching closely, you'll lose your ass. You can often uncover the underhanded deed when you're standing in the check out line at the store thumbing through a magazine, patiently waiting your turn. Then BAM! The covert crime jumps up, and smacks you in the face! Literally...

Right there on page 72. You find a shot of yourself in the Victoria Secret ad but someone cut YOUR head off your body, and placed some strange woman's face where yours used to be! What really sucks is when you start screaming about this blatant form of thievery to the people standing in line with you--they just look at you like you're a loon, or a complete loser, even if you have proof you've been robbed. This has happened over, and over, and over to me.

I finally found a way to get revenge. FaceinHole. Look at my furrrrreeeeking gorgeous thighs would ya??? My face + someone else's body. A thigh for a thigh. Brilliant! I love the way my mind works sometimes... I'm not only taking back my thighs... I'm taking back my life!

I was talking to Superman tonight on the phone and told him, "I'm going to be living with Gusto this next year." I quickly added, "You understand I need him in my life right now! One day I'll live with you..."

I realized I'd let the cat out of the bag when Opie Taylor sauntered over, and meowed, "What about me??? I thought you were living with me!?"

Lord my frigging life can get complicated so dang fast sometimes. I'd just blurted out I was planning on having an affair to Superman and Opie T.

You know what Superman said???

He said, "There's room for all of us in your life, including Gusto." Opie just purred.

You see, peeps, I want to make 2010 the best ever. I want to take every step possible to conquer PTSD so I'll stop losing precious time being sick, spending long hours at the doctor's office, and the hospital like I did today getting my Echocardiogram done. Or the time it takes to recover from being worn thin by stress related illnesses. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired!

I've been looking for my mantra, my word for the new year, my motto for 2010, my mission statement for seizing the moments I've missed while I've been blind dating Stress. I found it.

GUSTO...
I'm living with Gusto
in 2010

After I came home from the hospital today I took a much needed nap. I had a lot of time waiting between phases of the test today to think about what I wanted to change in my life to make the quality better. So I decided to cozy up to Gusto. And it felt darn good. After being such a bold little tart, he agreed to move in with me right away. Pfftttt... No Pre-Nup needed.

So that's the thighs of it, peeps.
I've been living with someone else's head
on my body for too long...

I'll update you about the results of my tests as soon as I get them. Lawd knows I'm gonna need a good heart to keep up with 3 men... and a lacy pair of Monkey Pantz to show off my sessy, new thighs. Oh, baby!

Tis the season to be

Opie Taylor knows how to "be"...
Peaceful, Joyful, and Grateful
For all things, in all ways

This holiday season I'm going to follow his example.
I'm not adding stress to my Christmas list
Just joy, love, and peace.

Happy Holidayz, my dear friends,
and readers.
Opie Taylor, Superman, Wonder Dog,
Dylan, Jake, Ash, Emery and I
Wish you a Season
Full of Love, Joy, and Peace.
May you find a pair of Sassy Monkey Pantz
under your tree or inside a package.
Remember "One Size Fitz All"

I'll be back after Christmas...
But will try to stop by to wish
as many of you as I can get to...
Happy Holidayz
and to ask you....
If you have your monkey pantz on...

NOTE: These pics were taken last year at my beloved Tree House. I'll post pics later of my peaceful hippy, bohemian style Christmas here at the Lily Pad. I have kept it simple, sweet, and stress-less.

A Wake Up Call

Looking at this picture I clipped from a video I made last week, I can see I had no idea in a few minutes I was about to learn something about myself that would give me a major wake-up call. Sometimes moments like these are the perfect gift to give yourself. The eye popping moments that shake you to your core, rock you & cause you to feel like you've just been hit by a stun gun. But in actual fact, I opened an early Christmas present given to me by the Universe. It's just what I needed to approach this next year with renewed determination. I'm sharing it with you.

I know I resemble a deer caught in the head lights in this picture, and rightly so. With these festive monkey pants adorning my back side, and bright blue top, I should be considered legally blind. If you are scratching your head, and wondering , "WTFlip are monkey pants?" Go to my sidebar where my Lilyputian Dictionary is. The definition is there, along with other unique words I've "fashion" together. I know I'm not the only one who makes words up.... ahem. Besides everyone needs a custom pair of monkey pants fitted just for them. And on some days, you just gotta wear what makes you happy even if you look like a huge sheet of wrapping paper....

Here's the gift I opened.
To Me, With Love From 2010, and beyond...
Click Here : A Wake Up Call

Wii Wii Wii all the way home

Monkey pantzzzzzzz weigh more than you think.

Film at 11:00
Or right now.....
Check it out...Yikes

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7y7L5YrA5M

The Story Behind This Time Tomorrow

I'm sure you've all noticed my new header. Superman encouraged me to use this piece of art I drew, and painted a few months ago as my header. I reluctantly agreed to tear it out of my art journal and scan it to see if I liked it. To my surprise, I did like it. I really, really liked it. The only thing missing was the cat, Opie Taylor, who sports the monkey pants on this blog. That sketch came about in under 15 minutes from start to finish. If all of life could be that easy...

Some of you noticed I put "This Time Tomorrow" back on as my blog title. What I'm not sure of is if I told you why I selected "This Time Tomorrow" as my blog title in the first place.

I've played a game with myself for as long as I can remember called this time tomorrow. It helps me get through upcoming things that are difficult, and keeps the ants in my pants from eating me alive when I'm anticipating something fun in my future that hasn't happened yet. Like the time I was asked to open for singer-song writer, Wayne Watson, in 1989 at a concert in Oxnard, CA, a Dove and Grammy award winner. I was so honored, and excited to be the opening singer for one of my favorite Christian singers, I could hardly breathe, eat, sleep or think. I played the game "This Time Tomorrow" with myself so I could survive the weeks waiting for the concert to arrive without popping into a kazillion peices.

Wayne Watson, me, and Scott Alan DJ at KDAR in Oxnard, CA
big smile, big shoulder pads & big hair... love the 80's

But enough about big hair, and stuff. Here's how the game goes....

If there was a test at school that I dreaded, I'd think about the day and time of the test, then I'd say to myself, "This time next Friday, I'll be taking the math test." This would give me the mental time--mental because I rarely, IF ever, cracked a book for a math test--to psych myself up for the test. It's like saying, "OK I have 6 more days to worry about that or not worry about it." But I'd always visualize myself in the situation whether it was 6 days away, or this time tomorrow. It gave me some time to feel it before I got there.

I once used the game to help me heal after having an abortion. I sank into a deep depression afterward because I felt I didn't have a choice in the matter. I wrote a story about my horrible ordeal with the "this time tomorrow" theme. In my short story I dread the upcoming scheduled event, and acknowledge my fear, and remorse, by counting down the days, hours, and minutes before the abortion by playing the game, "This time tomorrow".

I approach the trip to the clinic with a new inner strength because I realize I have an alternative choice. I begin to feel strong, and am willing to voice what "I want to do"--not what I felt someone else wanted me to do. At the last minute, I get up off the table, and walk away without having the abortion. My baby is safe, and so am I. I awaken later to discover I only dreamed I had walked away while I was under the anesthesia having the abortion. Somehow this comforts me because I know in my heart, and spirit, I would have done it differently had the choices been presented to me in another way. Writing about this with the theme of this time tomorrow as the story's base allowed me to heal, and in time, forgive myself. It's a mental game I use to get me through something I dread, or to remind me in 24 hours I can open the gifts under the Christmas tree.

"This time tomorrow I will be at the clinic sitting in the waiting room."

"This time tomorrow I'll be singing in front of thousands of people on the same stage with Wayne Watson."

"This time tomorrow I'll be boarding the plane to Italy."

"This time tomorrow I'll be getting a tooth pulled."

"This time tomorrow I'll be one day closer to being healed from PTSD."

When I decided to start blogging about having PTSD, I pondered a title. I knew writing had helped me in the past to heal from so many things, and suddenly "This Time Tomorrow" popped into my head. That theme had helped me heal before maybe it could now some 30 years later. I realized each day I work through this it brings me closer to this time tomorrow when I'll be totally healed, whole and helping others heal from PTSD, too.

Some of you will get this silly game I play, and some of you will shake your heads and mumble, "HUH?" Humor me--OK? I'm also the one who goes on AND on about monkey pants. Some of you get the concept of monkey pants, too, and some of you don't. Monkey pants are my unique way of reminding myself to keep an attitude of silliness, to keep laughing at myself, and remain childlike in the way I look at life. Silly is good. It helps my serious, fearful heart remember to lighten up. I need my monkey pants on so I will keep on keeping on. Simple as that.

Thank you, Dylan, for always being there with me, monkey pants on, and ready to face whatever this time tomorrow brings us. Thank you, Superman, for believing in me today or this time tomorrow or for as long as it takes for me to get well.

Thank you bloggy friends for putting up with all my monkey shines... Oh, and will you all please let Opie Taylor know the stripes and polka dots DO NOT make his butt look big. He wanted stars on his monkey pants.... I can fix that, too. This time tomorrow...

Bed Head Babblings

I have bed head, my grandson has some, too, and I'm showing it off to the world. I'm also showing why you shouldn't be allowed to babble on your puter cam & post it to you tube.

Hey just sayin....

It's too late.... I'm already hooked. This is the beginning of something well.... how should I say it? Monkey pants meets you tube. Yeah, that says it best.

Bed Head Babbling click here

Not Weighting Any More

Good week. Great results, plus lost some of me along the weigh. OK the barium was... Ummmmm, shall I say weighty. I believe that crap is closer to being like cement than glue in your pipe-a-roos---gross stuff. But it was kind of fun watching it pass through my physical pipes on the "big screen"... Between taking X-rays, the tech pointed out what everything was inside of me as the chalky, white, alien, tar baby first lit up my esophagus, then my intestines, and finally my large intestine.

I twisted my brow in a knot a few times asking her, "What IS that??" Think about it. We don't really get to see what is inside us. We only see the outside, and inside is an awesome machine we rarely even think about as it functions around the clock....24-7... keeping us alive. Plus, I'm curly, and curvy on the inside. Fluffy. Billowy. TMI?? Sowwy...

Please note:
Being off of sugar can make you feel giddy... stoned like. So a lot of this ramblin' sh*t ain't my fault....

This is how I felt when I quit smoking cigs last December, too. I got a head rush when the oxygen finally hit my brain after my blood veins became unclogged from all the nicotine, and tar. Plain oxygen gave me a buzz. A whole new twist on being an airhead... Some of you who have quit tobacco know just what I'm talking about, and now that I'm giving sugar the ole' stink eye... I've been babbling back and forth to myself like Cheech and Chong in a 70's movie. I guess detoxing has its perks. Anywhooooo... where was I??

Something about weight. Let me think a minute. Oh wait it was about my pipes. I was going to say.... no one tells you how freaky it is to see barium come out the "other" end. It's white with a grayish tint to it. Pasty gray. I felt so alienish. For freaking days. Sowwy, another sugah rush gone bad. I'll clean up my potty mouth.

More weighty matters??? Yes, what was the weighty matter this week?

When I weighed in at the doctors 1.5 weeks ago I weighed 191 lbs. I can barely breathe after typing that. Now that is the alien in my body--the extra weight. Those lines around my eyes--aliens, too, dang-it! I look at myself sometimes, and can't help but think of that Bonnie Raitt song, Nick of Time" where it says:

"I see my folks are getting on and I watch their bodies change
I know they see the same in me and it makes us both feel strange
No matter how you tell yourself, it's what we all go through
Those lines are pretty hard to take when they're starin' back at you
Scared to run out of time

When did the choices get so hard,
there's so much more at stake
Life gets mighty precious
When there's less of it to waste
Ooh ooh ooh ooh
Scared to run out of time"

I'm not here to have a pity party about "aging". I earned this right of passage. And I know for sure after going off that embankment in the accident I'm especially grateful to be alive, let alone any age, even if some people consider my age to be old. That inner "you" still expects to see "you" looking back...not that old girl-guy?! Friends, what I know is this;

I'm at a cross road in my life regarding my future health, and I need to take better care of myself while I still have a self to take care of...

Most of you reading this are probably baby boomers. Right? So you may understand how I feel when I say I don't want to waste any time making some positive changes in my personal health. I have this wild child inside me that thinks she can keep eating bad foods, and get no exercise and not have any repercussions from it. I think it's time I told myself, "Girl, you got yourself into this out of shape mess and you're the only one who can get you out of it." I want to feel vibrant inside and look vibrant on the outside! I want my zest back!

Who doesn't want to get an instant skinny fix simply by reading that article about crunches in Absmopolitan.

You mean, "I gotta work for it? But...."

[But... but.... butt bigger butttt....]

I am the only one who can fix me whether it's losing 5 pounds or 105 pounds.

My weight loss goals have everything to do with feeling good, and having great health. Looking good, and feeling good about one's self are light years away from each other. I don't have to tell you that one. I have to tell myself that, and somewhere in the middle, I want a firm grasp on both of those. I had so many of you JUMP UP and say, "I'm going with you, Lille!!! I'm losing my fluff with you, too. I want more energy. I want to get in shape. I want to lose some poundage~~~

Sah-weet-sassy-molassy-monky-pants!

So who wants to know my weight loss this week??? I have news. Weighty News.

I do need to address one thing first though. I had to change my starting weight. I weighed myself when I got home on my digital scale [God, I love this scale as much as I love a skinny mirror in a lingerie store] and it said I weighed 188.5--not the whopping 191 my doctor's lying hunk of junk scale said I did. I weighed myself two days in a row to make sure I had a steady starting weight. Psssttttt.... We all know a doctor's scale makes you weigh as much as an entire mini van with 18 bags of groceries in the back seat plus a zebra .... or two strapped on the bike rack in back. Ahem... **cough***cough**

4.5 pounds. I lost 4.5 pounds!!!! This was not painful, people. I actually ate more than I usually do. My choices were better though. Cutting out sugar was huge. Plus no cream my coffee. I wanted to slit my 'caffeine filled-with-cream-n-sugah' veins just thinking of the deprivation of having no twins in my java. I got over wanting it in under 3 days. I am in shock! Coffee actually tastes good nekkie. WTFrappucino! Who'da thunk it?

A quick question for you.

How many of you would be interested in meeting here with me for 5-15 minutes for a live vlog? A little fun so we can put the wag back in our scally's. A little silliness and motivation for those of you who'd like to do this together. Just think you'll all get to see me 'weighs-ting away to nothin' before your eyes... and you will be, too.

A time suggestion might be good, too. Mornings? Noon? Afternoons? Evenings? More than once a week perhaps?? Mix it up?? Let me hear from you... Who's in and when?

[insert 3rd grade girl giggle here]

International Overall Day

Who izzzz that girl under the lampshade???

It'zzzzz
A girl wearing her monkey pantzzzzz

Overalls are sassy....

sassy, sassy, sassy

Opie Taylor haz hiz Monkey Pantz on, too

Close up of my bibs

Thought I'd Lost It...

Someday, someone, somewhere will wonder who this dark haired girl smiling from her eyes down to her barefoot toes, and playing ring around the rosey with her friends was....

Thank goodness I found these pictures. I thought I'd lost them. Whew... This was part of a series of shots we did for our band, Silver Rose. That's me with the dark hair grinning like I'd smoked a fatty. Geez... it was the 70's... What can I say? Except these are the memories I want to take with me to my grave. The "me" I want my family, and friends, to remember. They are pictures of me living my dreams. There's nothing sweeter than that.


That's my dear friend Louie Baker on the left. He set the timer and ran in before the shutter snapped this classic picture. Yes, that's Louie. He always looked smooth even under the most adverse conditions. He, to me, was the king of smooth, and was [probably still is] one of the biggest dreamers I've ever met. Louie could sell his visions, ideas, and next big dream like no other person I've ever met. And you can tell by the picture we all loved Louie. If anyone knows this man... please tell him I love him.... still.... to this very day.

Louie taught me to dream big, and to never let anyone, or anything, stop me from chasing my dreams. I need to remember this message more than ever at this time in my life. I'm framing this picture to use as a visual carrot to help me move forward and faraway from PTSD.

Oh and before I forget... The main reason I went digging to China looking for these pics was because of the overall skirt Carol, the blond in the middle, and I are wearing because.............

Friday, November 20th
is International Overalls Day!!!
Click here for more details

Put them on, take a pic, send it to our flickr group, and have a little fun. One day, someone, somewhere will look back at the pics we take this Friday, and will say, "Now that was pretty darn cool." See that button on the right of my page???

Grab it for your own page, and link back to I.O.D.

In 5 days we're going to make HISTORY!

Are You A Free Spirit?

Silver Rose Band, 1975

That's me on the far right in my first band, Silver Rose. I was the lead vocalist, and wrote the lyrics for most of our songs. That's my bicycle leaning on the fence. That's how I got to band practice most days... or to work.... or to play.... or wherever my two wheels would take me. Ahhhh... memories. And that's an overall skirt I'm wearing. I wore this nearly everyday, and loved it with a passion. Looking back, I see I've always been a free spirit. Are you?

C'mon... Join the festivities on November 20, 2009. You don't even have to leave your house. Put on a pair of your overalls, and snap a pic. Post it on your blog (let us know), send it to me, add it to facebook or the gang of other free spirits in our flickr group. Or wear them all day long like I will be.

Tell me how you're a free spirit. With or without monkey pants.... errr I mean sassy overalls. Please visit Niels who thought this whole thing up. International Overall Day Nov 20 ~Sassy~

International Overall Day November 20, 2009

You are officially invited to join me and 1000's of others as we participate in a totally fun way to wear your monkey pants! Please scroll down for the link, and some ideas how you, and yours, can wear your overalls.... Yep...even Opie Taylor will be sporting a pair. Yes.... he will probably be high on doggy downers to do it but he will. Well.... I think he will. [Can you say photoshop???] OK at least I know I will be. I'd love to have you join me in this special day. My friend Niels will help you if you have any questions.

Yes, overalls CAN be sessy....

Yikes...

Please do NOT show Opie Taylor the picture above
or I'll NEVER be able to get him in his overalls...

Monkey pants at their finest!

Anyway you look at it...

This is going to be FUN!

On my side bar is the official link for the first annual International Overall Day November 20, 2009, and a button you can add to your page. C'mon!!! Let's make history!

River Dance at the Tree House

Hey guess what everyone??!!

I found a really good deal on some clogs and a DVD that teaches you how to clog! I'm so excited, and can hardly wait to get started. The thunder of tiny dancing feet will sound great on my expansive wooden floors.

Opie and I are going to dance our little hearts out up here in the tree house. I think I'll invite some friends over to clog with me each night. We could literally dance allllllllll night long!Gee... I hope it doesn't disturb the new people who live down below me too much...

Why I wanna start clogging---click here

55 Miles Away From PTSD

I spent most of yesterday editing the pics from Tuesday at Dorri's farm. In the middle of the editing I had a revelation--one of those revelations that stop you in mid thought, and demand you ponder it.

The trip out to the farm was the farthest I've been in a car
since January 1, 2009, the day my grandson was born.

In spite of it being the happiest moment in my life being there for my son's first child to be born, the back and forth trips from the hotel and hospital on busy, confusing freeways with narrow lanes triggered a major setback with my PTSD. Superman could barely peel me out of the car one night to just get me inside to our hotel room--it was that bad. After 8 months of battling PTSD from the car accident, that episode put me over the edge, and on a long term disability leave from my beloved career.

I have not been back there since. My son and his family live approximately 120 miles from me. It may as well be 2500 miles in my mind. I have shed a barrel of tears over not being able to just get in the car and drive to see them. I've wondered sometimes if they thought I just didn't want to see them. I look fine from the outside but PTSD is something you can't see. There's no bloody gash on my forehead. But I can tell you there may as well be. My kids post pictures regularly of my grandson, and themselves. This has been like a carrot for me to keep trudging ahead.

I didn't actually drive out to the farm. I was a passenger. It really doesn't matter with PTSD if I'm riding or driving. Every time I anticipated going out there, I'd freeze up mentally. It was too far. At the end of last week I sent Dorri a message requesting to come and shoot some pictures of her parents before their grand celebration planned in 2 weeks for their 50th wedding anniversary. Of course she agreed. Dorri loves her parents as much as I love mine. She still calls her mother, Mommy--just like I do with my Mommy.

I had some fears about making the drive--actually any drive. My normal mode of operation [which is actually my abnormal mode] is to chicken out before the day comes of a function, outing or event I have agreed to attend, and cancel. My mind has been so tweaked with fear that I can actually get sick, physically ill in anticipation of leaving the house. So in actual fact, PTSD has chained me not only in my mind, but also inside the four walls of my tree house. The very fact that I kept the date and went the distance is no less of a miracle than me surviving plunging off that 70 foot bridge nose first.

On the trip over to the farm we went the back roads. It's always calmer for me on back roads but at times I can still work myself into a fear frenzy. On the trip back we went on the freeway. NOW this is a major, major accomplishment. I had a few moments of my head jumping into the beginnings of a panic attack. My faithful co-pilot, Dylan, patted my knee, and arm, whenever I expressed a vehicle scaring me. She spoke calmly to me, and assured me we were fine. You see we've both come a long way together since the accident. We hold each other up when one of us feels too weak to stand.

If you haven't looked at yesterday's post yet, please do. It's mostly pictures so it's an easy read. So many of you who have been faithfully following me [thank you from the bottom of my heart] commented on how much fun we [me] were having. Those pictures really said so much. I was more relaxed on Tuesday than I've been in a very, very long time. [and it wasn't just the wine....] I'm getting better people. I'm really, and truly, getting better.

The revelation: I'm almost half way there [riding or driving] to my son's house.

THIS IS HUGE!!!!

Because I know when I get ALL the way there I'll get to put on my monkey pants and a monkey hat to play with this little cupcake.
Yes, I'm 55 miles away from PTSD and 65 miles closer to smooching some baby belly!!!