big mistake (lyn)

Yesterday morning.  Having made the discovery that I need to be more cognizant of what I eat, I am not in a good mood.  I pick up the phone around ten to call WW to get my etools re-installed so I can begin tracking again.   There is no dial tone.  I check the connection.  It’s fine.  I think maybe my last caller didn’t disconnect.  I wait and try again.  Still no dial tone.  I use my cell to call Verizon.  After 15 minutes I get through to someone.  He quizzes me first (my name, address, account number, and nature of problem) even though I have already given all this information to the automated voice.  Then the rep warns me that because I do not have repair insurance, if the problem is with my phone, I will be charged $75 for a home visit.  “Okay.  I get it.  Just please, get me to the repair department.”  I am totally exasperated and I haven’t even gotten to the right person yet.  Finally, I am put through.  I explain everything all over again (including for the third time my name, address, account number and problem).  Really, why is all this information never passed on?

The call proceeds as follows:

Unhelpful rep (UR): Okay ma’am. There seems to be a problem at the central office.  We will get someone to work on it.

Me:  Great.  When will that happen?

UR:  Well, we can only work on the lines during Safe Time.  (He says this as if I should be familiar with the term Safe Time.  Of course, I’m not, who is?).

Me:  What is Safe Time?

UR:  Oh, that’s between two and five am.  Safe time is the only time we are allowed to work on the phone lines.  That way, if other lines get compromised in the process of fixing yours, there is a good chance the other parties will not notice.

Me:  So are you telling me that the best I can hope for is that my phone will be working by tomorrow morning?

UR:  Yes, ma’am.  Is there anything else we can help you with?

With all the technology available today, I have to wait almost 24-hours to get my phone fixed?  This seems absurd.

Today I wake up and go to make a call.  There is no dial tone.  I call Verizon from my cell, and get a more intelligent rep than the one I spoke to yesterday.  I explain the problem.

Helpful Rep (HR):  Let me check into it for you. (I always love the rhetorical question that comes next).  May I place you on hold for a minute?

Me:  Sure.

HR:  I’m really sorry but it looks like the request was never sent to the right call center.  I’ll send another one through right now.

Me:  You’ve got to be kidding!  So now I have to wait until Safe Time again before they can fix it?

HR:  I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I understand.  What is Safe Time?  (I explain it).  I’ve never heard of that.  But no, they will work on it right away.

Me:  Help me understand.  Are you saying that the first rep I spoke to yesterday send the repair request to the wrong place, and then the wrong place didn’t forward it to the right place?????  That means two people screwed up.

HR:  Well, it’s all taken care of now.  Is there anything else I can help you with?

By 11, my phone is working again.  I call Weight Watchers and re-join etools for three months.  

why chaz bono matters (m)

My brother Phil calls: "Your friend, Cher, is on Dancing with the Stars tonight".  

I met Cher back in 2000 at a sales meeting in Las Vegas for one of my product launches.  Cher posed with a small group of senior executives.  I tried to sneak out of the photo op (for obvious reasons...I hate having my picture taken), but Cher caught me and pulled me in.  It's the only picture she took that night where she's got her arm around someone.

Only in my family does this brush with celebrity qualify one as "friend."

I decide to tune in to the show to watch Cher cheer on Chaz.  The aunties phone while the show is on and I explain what I'm watching.  I don't know why I bothered:

Me:       Okay, well, I've got to go.  I'm watching Dancing with the Stars and Cher is on.
X & Y:  Cher is dancing?
Me:       No, no.  Her son is dancing.
X&Y:    What son?

I know enough to quit while I am ahead (relatively speaking).  I just don't think I have the stamina to explain the whole trans gender thing.

Chaz, if you saw it, danced to the theme from Rocky (da-da    da-da-da    da-da-da-da-DAH!).  I have tears in my eyes when s/he finishes.  Even Carrie Ann is crying (as is Mama Cher).

This surprises me.  Carrie Ann speaks for both of us when she says, "For some reason, you get under my skin."

I think about this for a bit and then it occurs to me.  Chaz is on a transformational journey.  A male who was trapped in a female body his whole life.  He is a work in process.  We are watching him morph, becoming his authentic self.

I can relate.  I feel like a thin person trapped in a plus size body.

So, for the next several weeks, my friend Chaz and I will go on our parallel journeys.

Who knows, maybe I'll call my "friend" Cher and invite her to dinner to see how much I've changed too.

I need to pay more attention (lyn)

I get up this morning and get on the scale.  Is it really possible that I’ve gained 2.4 pounds since my weigh-in last Wednesday at WW, not even 7 days ago?  I review the week.  A big dinner out with the girls on Thursday.  A welcome home dinner with Alexander on Friday (rack-of-lamb, sides and dessert).  A gigantic break fast at Jill’s on Saturday.  Hmmm.  I need to start tracking again, at least for a little while.  The last time my weight was this high was in April 2010.  I know that I am still small and can easily fit into a size 6 pants.  But I want to stay around 121 or so.  Today I am 125.4.  It’s time to be more vigilant.  Too bad being reckless is so much more fun.

you know you need to lose weight when...(m)

....your cell phone goes off and you can't find it.  You hear it (muffled) but you can't see it. It appears to be coming from inside you!  You lift your shirt and it's there...inside the top band of your underwear.

Ugh.

shopping with alexander (lyn)

It’s 82 degrees and sunny.  Summer is prolonging its stay.  I meet Alexander at Bloomingdales; he needs a black belt.  They are having a sale (well, they are always having a sale).  Some clothes are 40% off already reduced prices.  Others are 50% off the second item if you buy two.  And then there is the escalated savings plan: spend $200 and get 20% off, $500 and get 25% off, etc.  There is a dizzying array of options for saving money.  I am not good in this kind of situation.

But my son is the perfect foil.  He has zero patience for shopping.

We start with a search for the belt.  We are told that belts are in several places, spanning two floors. At our first stop, Alexander finds a belt he likes.  I suggest we also check out the belts on another floor.  “Why? I like this belt.  Why do I have to look any more?”  I know I’ll not be able to convince him that looking can be fun, but he humors me and we go to the other floor.  We both like the belt from the first department best, and he wisely doesn’t taunt me with, “See?  I told you!”

We pass a gorgeous baby blue Burberry cashmere scarf. I pick it up and ask him what he thinks.  “It’s okay.  Yeah, I guess I like it.  But I already have two scarves and I really don’t wear them that much.”  I put it down.  I see a winter jacket that would be perfect for those cold walks to class.  “I don’t want to shop for coats.  We can do that over Thanksgiving.”  We pass beautiful sweaters.  He isn’t even tempted. He has a great build and wears clothes well.  There is so much I want to buy him.

I remember being his age and being able to eat everything too.  I was always thin and clothes always looked good on me.  But I don’t ever remember shopping with my mother and her offering to buy me just about anything I wanted.  She probably knew I’d want too much.  Alexander is lucky, though he doesn’t see it that way. He likes dressing well, but dislikes the shopping process.  He needs a personal shopper.  Someone who knows his style and who also owns a custom-fit mannequin of his exact body shape and dimensions (so there is never a need to try clothes on). 

I don’t accumulate enough to qualify for any discounts.  But that’s okay.  I leave Bloomingdales unscathed. I went in for one black belt and came out with one black belt.  And, I walked (according to my Fitbit) over five miles.

next time don't thank me (m)

My brother invites us and my friend, V, to dinner at his home to thank us for taking care of his dog, Charlie, during those two weeks he and my sister-in-law were in the Azores for the wedding/vacation.

Among the many things my brother and his wife are known for, three stand out:

-generosity
-hospitality
-fat-laden foods

My sister-in-law brings casseroles (casseroles) to Thanksgiving every year.  She says they are vegetable-based, but I defy anyone to identify exactly which vegetables are in there given all the other stuff--four cheeses, butter, cream, breadcrumbs.  Yes, of course, they are delicious.  They also are deadly for a diet.

I had to tell him that V is fastidious about watching her weight and I am trying to shed a chunk more of my weight.

Phil: So, what does that mean?
Me: Just go easy...light fare, please.
Phil: What exactly do you mean?
Me: Well...no cheesy stuff.  No butter, no cream.
Phil: Then stay home.
Me: C'mon.  Just steam the vegetables.  No meat.
Phil: What about appetizers?
Me: No appetizers.  We'll have seltzer water and then eat the meal.

We pick up V at 6:15 and head to my brother's house.  V brings some beautiful French wines. "Sancerre," she says in a perfect French accent.

Upon arrival at my brother's house, the dog goes beserk, jumping all over V and then me.  He's beside himself.  It's as if he's thinking, "All my favorite people are here! What a great night!"

I knew we were in trouble when I saw the table setting.  Five utensils per person.  Soup spoon, salad fork, dinner fork, knife, dessert spoon.

We begin with soup--white bean soup with tomato puree and basil.  Outstanding.  I grill them on the ingredients.  I was just about done with the soup when they finally admitted how much olive oil was in there.

Next course, salad.  Lots of vegetables, walnuts, no cheese.  I sidestep the walnuts and use only a teaspoon of their dressing.  Perfect.

My brother takes a loaf of fresh baked bread out of his special bread oven.  V is done for.  This is her weakness.  She succumbs.  I have a slice.  It's incredible.  I could live on this and water for the rest of my life.

Then the heavy artillery--lemon risotto, baked fish, broccoli in garlic and olive oil ("just a touch"...b.s.), carrots with chives and a "dab" of butter, and butternut squash.  Everything tastes so good. 

We brought dessert.  A large bowl of cut up fruit, an angel food cake, a German chocolate cake (for the skinny people) and Haagen Daz 'simple' vanilla ice cream (lower fat, but still...).

We leave feeling so full we are disgusted with ourselves.

Thankfully, my brother and sister-in-law won't be going away for a while so we'll have no more "thank you" dinners to sabotage our diets.

yom kippur break fast (lyn)

The all-day fast is relatively easy, especially for Alexander who wakes around noon.  We spend a quiet day at home, and leave for Rye around 5.  We are going to Jill’s (Abbey’s sister) to break fast with everyone.

By the time we arrive, everyone is already there and eating appetizers.  I am starving and show zero restraint.  I eat the creamed herring, challah bread, chopped liver, vegetables and dip, and some of Jill’s outstanding egg salad.  I’m full before we even get to the table for the main course.

There is so much food, and I eat much of it.  A take a whole-wheat bagel and then scoop it out. I add to it a layer of cream cheese, a layer of halibut salad, a layer of nova (Jill bought 3.5 pounds for the 13 of us so there is no need to skimp), and a blueberry blintze topped with frosted flakes…so much better than it sounds. The food is great.  By the time dessert arrives, I feel gigantic, yet still manage to eat two pieces of 7-layer cake.

It’s a lively dinner.  I make a statement about Steve Jobs being one of the few (if any) creative and business geniuses ever, and then have to vigorously defend my position against all the other like geniuses in history (Ralph Lauren, Walt Disney, Steven Spielberg, Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Mark Zuckerberg, Bill Gates, Sergey Brin, and the unknown heroes of industries I know nothing about).  Later I find myself again in the defensive position.  This time  arguing that it’s the little guy ---the one who can least afford it---that is most hurt by the new fee structures that banks are adopting to compensate for decreased revenue from debit cards.  (In June, the Durbin Amendment passed.  This lowered debit card swipe fees that banks have been charging merchants from 44 cents to 24 cents per transaction.).  We all eat.  We all argue.  And then we all eat some more (Post dessert offerings include chocolate covered pretzels, cookies, and Swedish fish).  Food and drink are plentiful as we move from living room to dining room and back again.  And in-between, Adam keeps us all laughing.

We get home around 11.  Ben Stiller is hosting SNL and it’s been awhile since Alexander and I have watched it together.  “It’s on, “ I call out to him.  “I’ll be there in a sec.  I just need to grab something to eat.  What do we have?  I’m hungry.”

Good that Cornell requires so much walking.