Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

Tag: happy

  • Happy Labor Day

    Happy Labor Day


    Dearest Readers:

    Today in America is Labor Day. According to the U.S. Department of Labor — “Labor Day, the first Monday in September, is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers. It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country.”

    I have always been curious why Labor Day is called “Labor Day…” I suppose one could say — now you know!

    For most of us in America, Labor Day is the last day of summer. For my family and I, it is a day of rest…to do something relaxing. I’ve encouraged my husband to play golf today. Perhaps we will grill out, or perhaps we will go out to dinner. Who knows!

    I have no plans for today, with exception of getting my nails done. They really need to be clipped and repainted. What color will I use? Haven’t a clue. Perhaps coral. Maybe white. Those who will see me later this week will know. So, I suppose my Labor Day will be one to relax…to give thanks for life…to be grateful for life…good health..and family.

    Today is a beautiful day in Charleston, with warm sunshine beaming down. Yes, it would be a good day to relax on the beach, but I think I’ll just take the day off…to give thanks to the United States of America, and to the freedoms we have.

    Happy Labor Day!

  • No One to Blame But Me — At Weight Watchers

    No One to Blame But Me — At Weight Watchers


    Dearest Readers:

    I confess, today is my weigh in day at Weight Watchers, only I am not going today. I’ve decided it is in my best interest to remain at home today — moping…groaning…arguing with myself…I’m certain you get the picture, especially IF you are working hard to lose weight. This week hasn’t been a user-friendly week for me, and I’ve managed to eat foods I shouldn’t have, along with birthday cake. Yes, I know, I have no one to blame but myself! I am the one who lifted the fork into my mouth and ate those foods, and I am truly (almost physically except it hurts to do this) beating my head against a brick wall for being such a weakling! According to my scales, I’ve gained four pounds this week — since Tuesday of this week.

    Allow me to explain…This week, combined with the latter part of last week, have been the weeks from Hell for me. Too much stress…too many disappointments… If you recall from my postings in June and earlier this month, I posted the details of the lack of appropriate customer service from the scheduling department of Sears. The week of June 26 was an extremely demanding and busy week for me and when I finally found the time to do laundry, I loaded the colored clothing, placed the detergents and fabric softeners in the appropriate slots, only to discover my front loading Kenmore washer would not power up. I checked the fuse box, other areas that I knew to check, and phoned Sears. To make a long, pressurized story short, the earliest they could get a technician out was July 8. I was furious! I was told, and I quote, “we are overbooked due to the holidays.” Duh???!!!??? Did I HEAR the voice correctly? I ask you, just WHO plans for the scheduling of a repair due to the holidays? The first party I spoke with had one of those accents from India, or somewhere similar. Seems she offered to ‘walk me through some diagnostic testing?”

    Are you not listening, India? The washer will not power up. I do have common sense and my common sense tells me that IF the machine is not powering up, a diagnostic test cannot be completed! Do I need an engineering degree just to operate a Kenmore front loading washer? ‘I don’t think so!’

    Sears must think I’m stupid! I’m not. Julia Sugarbaker reborn? Perhaps!

    After the incident with Sears I went online, finding the Blue Team at Sears where I could send an e-mail. Ha. Ha! Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!

    Yes, I sent an e-mail. I am not certain of the contents, but let us just say, my Julia Sugarbaker style kicked in — BIG TIME. A customer service rep from Sears phoned me, assuring me that when an earlier opening arrived, a service technician would phone me, and he did. I think he came to the house on July 1. I recognized him since he was the technician that repaired this same washer a few years back. Apparently the problem is the computer panel. As you all must know — EVERYTHING is computerized now so what once was a simple repair job is now a complete rehaul of the repair. A new computer panel was ordered. It arrived this Monday, July 7. The technician is scheduled to repair the washer tomorrow, July 11. It has been three weeks since I’ve been blessed to do laundry at home. I’m getting into the groove of going to the laundromat now. Fortunately, the laundromats in my neighborhood have been upgraded, so the characters I saw the last time I had the joy of visiting a laundromat no longer exist. Thank you, God!

    Last week simply wasn’t my week. After Weight Watchers, I had lunch with friends and decided to complete birthday shopping for my husband. We were having storms and one thing retail outlets can count on is when it is raining like it does in Charleston, SC, people LOVE TO SHOP! Customers were coming out of the woodwork! After leaving Towne Centre, I started home, noticing a car so close behind me I could not see the headlights of the vehicle. Of course you can imagine what happened. When I stopped, so did she — right into my bumper. Fortunately, it was a minor fender bender; however, my bumper has a few deep scratches, so we called the police. I reported the accident to the insurance company and now I await their phone calls. I suppose I could continue listing the events of this week too, but it isn’t necessary. Just know, I need a break, and so today, after fighting with myself and shedding a tear or two, I decided to miss my meeting.

    I forgot to mention yesterday. I went to a friend’s house to rehearse our songs for our show this weekend. After our fun rehearsal, we went to the pool and swam and soaked up a few rays. I was wearing my Fitbit One. It isn’t waterproof! I slipped (by accident) into the pool and ruined my Fitbit One. I have it drying out in a bowl of rice, but so far — nothing. Dead. What a week!

    Repeatedly I have reminded myself that no one placed the food in my mouth. No one force fed me at all. My husband wanted to have his birthday dinner at P. F. Chang’s — one of my favorite places to dine. After looking up their entrees on Weight Watchers etools, I realized I should not eat one bite, but I did. Add to that, the birthday cake, and I recognize I am headed for self-destruction.

    Nevertheless, today is a new day. Yes, the scale tipped upward of four pounds, but my new treadmill (Nordic Track) is laughing at me as I write this, so I must gather my thoughts to close this, turn on “Designing Women” and get moving!

    I am so hopeful next week will be the beginning of a new and better, happier, less stressful week. And now, I am hopping on Nordy! Have a great week!

  • Character…What It Is, According to Me…


    Dearest Readers:

    While taking another break from housework, I visited Facebook where people were discussing the cruelty of some of their acquaintances. Yes, acquaintances…not friends.

    Reading a few of the comments got me thinking…and if you know me…thinking can be dangerous! I create my best characters while — thinking!

    Like all of you, I’ve met many characters in life. Some nice. Some judgmental… Others cruel. Destructive…and then, on a few occasions, I’ve met interesting characters that have influenced my life. One of the most influential characters I’ve ever known was someone I met years ago. She and I kept in contact until her death in 2010. How I miss our conversations, along with her encouragement. She is a character I have preserved and have not shared in any of my stories. Why? Simple. She was the epitome of what a mother was to me. Her arms embraced me when we met. Her voice and encouraging words gave me strength. She is and will always be — a refined and cherished character.

    Looking up the definition of character — the word character is defined as:
    “the mental and moral qualities distinctive to an individual”

    Yes, I have met many individuals and I hesitate to describe many of them as ‘characters.’ Why? Watching their actions, listening to their back-stabbing whispers, seeing the look in their eyes, especially when I walk near them teaches me so much, just by watching the actions of these individuals. You’ve met the type. The type who embrace you with a hug and a cheeky kiss, only to glance over your shoulder to watch their whispers and snide remarks and looks. Actions say so much! Yes, I suppose those types of individuals are considered characters, but only of a cruel, demeaning, and belligerent personality. The type who thrive on building themselves up while knocking you down.

    In high school, I knew many characters, only to recognize years later that their cruel remarks were made because they do not know better. After all, they lost the best friend they will ever have by ridiculing me. High school was the most difficult time of my life. I learned to keep all of my secrets to myself, sharing none of them to anyone I knew in school.

    I know I am different. I am not the judgmental, cruel type of person. My grandmother taught me to be ‘nice’ and to live by the Golden Rule. After all, She would say, “God don’t love ugly! You must pray over those who hurt you.” When I lost my grandmother, I truly lost my first inspirational character.

    If I have a problem with someone, I approach that person and speak with them. If we cannot come to a peaceful understanding, I simply do not socialize or acknowledge them. After all, I deserve better!

    It took years for me to realize that. As a child, I lived with cruel, cold, calculated, toxic words. I never knew the love of a mother, nor did I feel her warm embrace. There are many things I felt under her care, but character was not a description I would use to describe what her values were. She appeared to detest me, telling me I would never EVER find anyone to love me. I listened to her. Little did I know that some mothers simply do not know how to care for children.

    I broke away from her web of destruction while searching for the character of myself. I was cautious. When people made snide remarks about me, showing jealousy, envy and other cruelties that cut into the heart of who I am, I cut them off. I wanted to walk with my head held high. I wanted to smile while knowing that I had character. A character it has taken me years to build. Most of all, I wanted to love myself. Every morning, I glance in the mirror and say, “Today, you are the best that you can be. Move forward with your life. Don’t look back!”

    Two years of therapy taught me much, and now, I still watch people — carefully! I sit back. Observing while watching their body language and when AND IF I feel comfortable, I might approach someone to become a friend. However, if I see that friend using a loose tongue, or back stabbing, I will approach once. If the trust is damaged, so is the character.

    Characters are every where, but I am cautious. I make mental notes, and ever so slowly, I continue to build — MY character! Life is much too short to be unhappy.

  • Mother’s Day Reflections


    Dearest Readers:

    Today is Mother’s Day in the USA. A day to appreciate mothers, regardless who — or where — they are. And so, I would like to wish all of the mothers a Happy Mother’s Day. Today, I remember my mother. She died unexpectedly on September 11, 2002. There is an interesting story regarding her death, but that is another chapter I will share in my book, “Chattahoochee Child.”

    Today, I will reflect on Mothers. Motherhood is a day that most girls dream about as little children. We play with our baby dolls, changing their diapers and clothes, feeding them baby bottles and we dream of the blissful day when we become mothers. Becoming teenagers, we babysit, still dreaming about the day when we give birth to a child.

    I will go on record here to say, it takes more than imaginations, dreams and desires to become a mother. A mother is the first person babies get to recognize when we are so dependent on a mother. I imagined myself as a great mother because I loved small children. I loved scooping them up sitting on my lap while I read picture book stories to them. I loved playing pretend with them, singing and dancing with small children, and I loved babysitting.

    After marriage, I discovered it indeed ‘takes a village to raise a child.’ After giving birth to my child, I recognized motherhood was more demanding that I imagined. Suddenly this tiny little boy was placed in my arms, screaming louder than I imagined a baby could scream. After we came home, I was convinced I did not need help to care for him. After all, I was his mother. I could handle any of the demands he screamed out to me. I was wrong!

    Mornings began early — really early, and sleep was something I was deprived of. I learned to sleep when the baby sleeps. My husband did not help — at all. He used the excuse he didn’t know how to care for a baby. He couldn’t change diapers or feed him. All that he enjoyed was the fun of making a baby. Maybe that is why we only had one! While making a baby was fun, the joy of caring for a baby quickly wore me out. And when my husband jokingly mentioned having another, I did not laugh. Motherhood was just a bit more demanding that I ever imagined.

    Perhaps that is the reason my mother and I did not get along in life. As a child, I was the persnickety one! I loved to dress up and make an entrance. Singing and dancing on the stage gave me life and I knew at the age of five-years-old I was meant to entertain. As a teenager, I grew into a shell, hiding away, afraid to speak, sing or dance. I watched my parents marriage quickly deteriorating. I stood between them, serving as the referee so they would not hit one another. I remember screaming, “Please stop this. You are killing each other.”

    When I was 15, my parents separated and divorced. Mom moved us into our grandparents mill house. I enrolled in high school, blending into the walls. No one remembered me. The music stopped and I no longer sang or dance. My life was in turmoil. My mother and I fought. Sometimes she would pull my hair and slap me, just to shut me up. I saw the bitter side of motherhood and for a while, I thought I would never become a mother.

    Today, I do my best to look for the good that was inside my mother, and I reflect on her unhappiness. Not every one is good mother material. After all, life has a way of demanding too much controversy and difficulty. After moving away from the mill village, my husband and I drove back to the mill village occasionally to see my mother. Each time, I left in tears. Bitter words were spat at me. Questions vocalized that I was ‘rich’ since I drove a new car, wore expensive clothing and shoes. I laughed! All of my clothing and shoes were sale or clearance items and I managed a tight household budget. It was obvious with each visit that jealousy brewed inside my mother. Never did she rush to hug me, or tell me she loved me. All I remember were the brutal attacks, and with each visit, I wiped tears from my eyes while inside all I wanted to hear was that she loved me and was happy to see me. She stood her ground — refusing. Inside her home, all of my pictures were gone. In her eyes, I no longer existed.

    In later years, she had a stroke. I found out when the nursing home phoned me to ask if I would fill out paperwork for her to remain. My youngest sister was missing at the time, and the social worker admitted to me that my mother had been removed from my sister’s home after a court order.

    I completed all of the paperwork and my mother received the medical care she deserved. I drove to Georgia to see her. She didn’t recognize me, but did recognize my husband. Returning home, I spoke with the nursing home every day, hoping that my mother would improve.

    On September 11, 2002, my mother died. I was informed after my sister’s son phoned me to let me know the funeral would be the next morning. The one comment made to me several times while on the phone was: “Do you think they’ll do an autopsy?”

    I had less than 24 hours to get to the funeral. At the time, I was in bed sick with acute bronchial asthma. I was taking Prednisone at the time and was a total zombie to be around. My husband was away in Italy, so I did not make it to the funeral. Never did I get to say goodbye to my mother.

    Three months later, I wrote a letter to my mother, to say goodbye. Now at peace with her death, and our history together, I wish her a Happy Mother’s Day in heaven. To all of you who are mothers, or have mothers still alive, I do hope you will take the time to wish your mother a Happy Mother’s Day. Even if there are challenges and adversities you share, think of it this way — she is the one who gave you life. Without her care, you would not be around to breathe or appreciate life.

    May God bless mothers, everywhere. As we know, motherhood does not come with an instructional booklet. None of us are truly prepared to be a mother; however, we must work together to become appreciative of each other and our lives together. Life is too short to hold a grudge. Pick up the phone today to speak to your mother. To say thank you..and most of all, to say, “Mom. I love you.” Regardless. She is your mother.

    Happy Mother’s Day!

  • My Weight Watchers Saga Continues


    Dearest Readers:

    Today is T-minus and counting. My weigh in day at Weight Watchers. For once, I actually slept well last night, managing not to awaken for a length of time until 5:00am. I went back to sleep and didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. Most unusual for me! Slowly, I managed to get myself dressed and go to my meeting. The question at hand as I drove to the meeting was “Will I use my ‘get out of jail card free’ again, or will I actually step on those scales. Grumbling to myself as I approached the meeting, I reminded myself how discouraged I was. ‘Plateaus are killing me. I am so tired of being on this yo-yo. I’m so tired of not losing. I want to reach goal.’

    I opened the door, after several members saw me standing at the door. “OK. Here goes.”

    Our leader, Kathy, was at the weigh-in desk. “Great. She’ll see that I’m not losing – AGAIN!” She asked how I was doing. I grumbled. “I’m so sick of not losing,” I said. She closed my booklet, handing it back to me, she said. “Good job!”

    I thought she was kidding! Looking at my booklet I realized I had lost 1.4 pounds! Shocked, I jumped off the scales and did a happy dance!

    What I’ve learned in the last three years as a member of Weight Watchers is the reality that we all will have set-backs, days…and weeks of discouragement…and the recurring battle of plateaus. Yes, I have lost 35 pounds at Weight Watchers, and during weeks of plateaus and yo-yo’s I remind myself that IF I quit Weight Watchers, no doubt, the weight would pile on again. Gaining weight is not someone I wish to be anymore!

    When the meeting started, Kathy, our wonderful, encouraging leader asked if anyone wanted to share their experiences from the last week. Of course, it was me – being the shy, timid, non-opinionated woman that I am – NOT – raised her hand.

    “I’ve lost 1.4 pounds this week. A total shock for me…and I have something to add. Last night I had rehearsals for a variety show that I am singing in. After rehearsal, my husband and I decided to stop at Finz, a local restaurant, bar nearby since one of my favorite dj’s, Steve Russell, was playing music, including karaoke. While I do not claim to be a karaoke-style of singer, I do love to sing. We plopped down at one of the tables. Steve asked if I wanted to get this singing party started. Of course I said yes. I have enough confidence now with singing that I never hesitate to start the show. When round two of the rotations began, Steve wanted to know if my outfit was considered shorts. Perhaps I should’ve said, “Yes…but dress shorts.” I did not share that comment. The outfit I was wearing consisted of a slightly short pair of dress shorts I could not wear previously because they were much too little. Last night, they fit nicely.

    When Steve called me up to sing, he introduced me with the song, “Who Wears Short Shorts,” and when the music began, I danced around.

    Truly a nice night to enjoy friends, and to finally recognize that my body size is changing now! Friends are calling me skinny. Something I shall never be, but it’s nice to receive such encouraging words, especially at an age where some people say, I do not dress age appropriate. Whatever that means!

    Yes, it is true. I do not dress like a woman middle-aged, or afraid to show her legs! Dreadful, isn’t it! I suppose I should be ashamed, but I’m not. I love wearing my short skirts and I love my heels…just like the commercials seen on TV – the ones where the woman isn’t revealed, with exception of her rushing high heels, short skirts and legs! When the camera reveals the woman, we realize she isn’t a twenty, or thirty-something woman, but she is one of those gorgeous women who has fought the aging process, and it is paying off!

    Yeah…that’s me. Short skirts. Platform, or stiletto heels, boots…and so much more.
    Just stay tuned. All to the credit of March 3, 2011. The day I joined Weight Watchers while deciding it was time for me to dance again…to love life again…to be the best I can be! Thank you…Weight Watchers. While I am not at goal yet – I simply say – STAY TUNED! The best is yet to be!

  • Happy New Year, 2014


    Dearest Readers

    Today is New Years Eve. A time for everyone to celebrate, just a bit too much. A time to give thanks that we are able to
    ‘welcome in the New Year.’

    When I think of New Years Eve, I think of friendship, spending time with some of my closest friends and reminiscing about the year. We in America have so much to be thankful for, especially if we have good health.

    During New Years Eve 2012, Phil and I celebrated the new year with our friends. I do not recall myself celebrating because I was so sick. Fortunately, for this New Years Eve, I am not sick, but Phil and I have decided to have a quiet New Years Eve. We might go to a movie, or we might just sit at home and watch TV. After all, we have many movies to catch up on since we’ve recorded an abundance of them. I have wine chilled in the fridge and I might open a bottle so I can sip it quietly at home, where I do not have to be the designated driver!

    What are your plans for the New Year? In Charleston there are many parties. The Elks Lodge has a private party, although Phil and I have decided not to be out on the roads at New Years. There are too many drivers on the road that should NOT be on the road, due to drinking just a bit too much holiday cheer.

    For all of my readers, I would like to wish you a safe and Happy New Year 2014. May you enjoy the best of life. May you have good health and happiness, and may you continue to appreciate your life and family. May 2014 be a prosperous, happy year for you and your family. May you remember to give thanks to God for all that you have and all that you will accomplish in life.

    2013 was a pleasant year for our family. A quiet, restful peacefulness within our home. I imagine there will be an abundance of fireworks in our neighborhood, like there is every year, so it will not be beneficial to crawl into bed early. The fireworks exploding in the skies always frighten our pups, and I do not dare to let them outside during this time, for fear that something could frighten them. How I wish our community would make them illegal, but I do not foresee that happening. Fireworks is one of the reasons a few of my neighbors chose to move to Mt. Pleasant. Isn’t that a great reason to move into a community — the freedom to explode fireworks??? Says a lot, doesn’t it!

    I suppose I could really jump on my soapbox about fireworks, but why bother –NO ONE OFFICIALLY cares about them in Mt. Pleasant, and the last time I complained I was basically brushed off, leaving me to feel as If I am the problem and not ‘fireworks.’ Can’t help being a bit curious as to how many ’emergencies’ occur due to fireworks. They are dangerous, although children do not see the danger, and neither do the parents permitting the children to shoot them into my yard care!

    So for now, I will close and wish all of you a safe and Happy New Year, 2014. Please be considerate of others IF you are popping fireworks at your home, and do us all a favor, don’t shoot them into a neighbor’s lawn or home. Happy New Year.

  • Animals Communicate to Us…


    Dearest Readers:

    Today, I awaken to another gray day in Charleston. Now, it is raining outside. Raindrops tap, tap, tap, on the windows and I’m thankful I called my four-legged family members inside only moments ago. They are so funny when it rains. When the back door opens, they rush inside, only to stop as the back door closes. They lift their little heads up. Their eyes stare at me, as if to say, “Where’s my towel? I don’t like being wet!”

    Drying them is a funny site. First, Sir Shakespeare rushes to the front of the line, to get dried. Sometimes, Sandy Bear is second. He loves to feel the soft, fluffy towel rubbing his fur. Many times, he will moan, as if to say, “Um-mmm. That feels so good.”

    Hankster the Prankster is usually third in line to get dried. He doesn’t really care to be touched, but he does allow the soft towel to rub his fur, while he growls, and growls and growls. I continue rubbing him until he backs away. He is such a funny and grouchy little character. Saved from a kill shelter, only to live for a bit with people who did not understand him, this precious, confused little mini-schnauzer communicates his needs to me. After he left our foster home, he communicated to me in three different dreams that he wanted to come back to us. One dream said he wasn’t happy and the people did not understand him. Later, in another dream, I awoke early one morning, in the early gray darkness of an extremely early morning, to hear whining and a familiar bark. In my dream, I slumbered towards the front door. Opening it, I discovered a cold and wet Hankster. He lifted his face towards me as if to say, “May I please come in? I ran away and I’m tired. Hungry and cold. Please, Mom.”

    If you, my readers, read my blog at all, you will remember I have visions. Sometimes these visions are so strong that I know, deep inside, that this vision will come true. My last vision about Hankster was the strongest one. In this dream, I was driving along the Interstate. Traffic was bumper to bumper. I was curious as to why the traffic was moving at a snail’s pace. I didn’t see any emergency vehicles. No sign at all of an emergency; however, as my car crawled along, horns were blowing. People were shouting. I looked to the right of the road. In the emergency lane, there stood a small little dog, hovering down. Afraid. The animal advocate in me kicked in and I pulled over. Carefully getting out of the car, I prayed, “Dear God. Keep me safe and please let me capture this scared little fellow.” I moved slowly, making soft noises so the tiny dog would not be afraid of me. He crawled towards me, and when I was able to touch his fur, he howled. Carefully, I picked him up, thinking, wishing and hoping that he was Hankster.

    Placing the frightened animal in the back seat, I covered him with a blanket and buckled him. I lifted his collar. “Hank,” I read.

    My eyes opened. I looked into the darkened room, hopped out of bed and turned the light on. This dream was so visual…vivid…almost as if Hank was communicating with me. I kissed the pups sleeping soundly in their beds and I rushed to my computer. Downloading e-mail, I discovered an e-mail titled “Hank isn’t working out,” in the subject line. I opened the e-mail. Tears rushed down my face as I realized those dreams were now a reality that Hank needed me.

    Two days later I was informed that Hank was coming back to the rescue center. He would be placed in a kennel and re-entered into the foster and adoption program for the rescue center. As silly as my dreams sounded, I notified the director that I needed to be the one to rescue and foster Hank. I mentioned my dreams. Much to my surprise, when I got a reply, the director understood my dreams. She thought our family would be perfect to assist Hankster.

    That weekend, we rescued Hankster again. At first, he barked. I allowed him to smell my scent and scooped him in my arms, placing him in the back seat. On the drive home, Hank was fine. He curled himself into a little ball and slept the entire two-hour drive. Arriving home, he rushed inside to the water bowl, then to the toy box. He remembered our home and our four-legged-family.

    Some people say that animals cannot communicate simply because they cannot speak our language. I correct those people, letting them know that animals do communicate their needs by their actions, and sometimes, in their dreams. I am convinced that Hankster was communicating to me for weeks and that is why I kept dreaming about him.

    Today, Hankster is happy. We adopted him and slowly he took baby steps to improve his attitude and disposition. For a few weeks, he bit my husband’s hand and he chased after his feet, especially whenever my husband moved closer to me. It was obvious that Hank did not like men, nor did he appreciate Phil giving me a hug. His story is one of abuse. After he lost his first home due to death, the family members took him to a kill shelter. Fortunately, Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas stepped in to save him. He went to a foster home, then to our home for us to foster him. A few months later, a family adopted him but Hank wasn’t happy, so we re-fostered him, only to fall in love with him and adopt him. Today, Hankster the Prankster is curled at my feet while I write this. Yes, he growls at my husband, but when he realizes he has no reason to growl or be ugly to Phil, he rushes up to him, as if to say, “Hi Daddy. Pet me please.” Hankster has truly grown into a little guy capable but skeptical of trust. Yes, he is still protective with me, and I imagine he always will be my little protector, but he does know how to love and how to accept love. Baby steps. Hankster has finally found the road to happiness.

    This morning as the rain pours from the heavens, I give thanks for this precious little bundle that could’ve been put to sleep alone, without anyone to care for him. People ask me why we foster animals. I think Hankster tells the story better than I, or anyone, could by his actions. I will let you, my readers, decide. As for me, I feel blessed to love Hankster and to be the one he rushes to whenever he is wet from raindrops, cold, hungry, or just needing a little pat on his head while he growls. What is his growl saying to me? One word. One syllable. “Thanks…!”

    Yes, animals communicate. All we need to do is open our hearts, and our minds, to listen to and welcome them!

  • What is Christmas?


    Dearest Readers:

    Christmas is more than gifts, socializing, drinking, partying and  simply having fun. Christmas is the season where we appreciate Christ and all that He represents. To those who are atheists, I say, it is a fact that I believe in Christ and Christmas and I strive to appreciate the true meaning of Christmas. I do not write “Happy Xmas” on packages or on Christmas cards. I write Merry Christmas. I believe in leaving Christ in Christmas.

    While you are busy shopping for just the perfect gift for your loved ones have you ever caught yourself singing aloud some of the Christmas songs you hear? I confess, I could be one of those people singing the lyrics while shopping.  I simply adore singing. I know most of the Christmas songs by heart, especially those related to the reason for the season. “The Little Drummer Boy,” “Oh Come All Ye Faithful,” “Silent Night,” and so many more. Those songs touch me, filling me with the spirit for the holiday season.

    But, I ask you — What Is Christmas? Is it simply a time to shop for everyone you know, in hopes they will exchange a gift with you? Is it a time to bake Christmas cookies, cakes and other delicious and too tempting foods? Is Christmas a time to open your home to others, in hopes they will be envious of your beautiful home? Is Christmas the time to brag to others about extreme holiday vacations and gifts? Or, is Christmas the time to celebrate and give thanks for religion, freedom, family, friends, and the birth of Christ on that first Christmas Day?

    For me, Christmas is a time to remember holidays past. I remember my grandparents and how they instilled to four granddaughters that Christmas time was a time to attend church, to pray, to sing and to give to others, without expecting a gift in return. Christmas is a time to say thank you and to be appreciative for  every gift, even IF it is a fruit cake or something handmade. I remember receiving chocolate covered cherries, fruitcake and cookies. I smiled and said thank you. Our Christmas time was a time where we did not recycle these gifts to others. We kept them.

    One of my most commemorative gifts was when I was about 15. A family friend who was more of an uncle than a friend, built handmade jewelry boxes for all of us. When I opened it, I noticed how shiny and beautiful it was. I had nothing to put in it, but I still have that special handmade jewelry box sitting on my dresser. I store my collection of pearls in it and I still cherish it. I do not have other gifts I can remember like this precious, special jewelry box. Isn’t it funny how something handmade still is cherished!

    After last Christmas I learned something valuable due to illness. I was much too ill to rush around like a maniac, or to drive in such a rush, and I was much too weak to bake Christmas goodies. I suppose in all of the hustle bustle of the materialistic, commercialized season, I learned that Christmas is indeed a special time.  I caught myself going to a special window more, folding my hands in prayer, just like my grandmother did. When Christmas morning arrived, I didn’t rush to see what was under the Christmas tree. I rushed to give my husband a hug, but not a kiss, since I was so ill. I think I learned to appreciate the little things of Christmas last year, and when we went to dinner at one of our friend’s house, I don’t think I hugged anyone, for fear of spreading my germs. There is little I remember about Christmas Day 2012, due to illness, but I was  thankful for friends, family and the true reason for the season.

    I made a promise to myself during Christmas 2012, a promise of not getting so wrapped up in the season that I would forget the true meaning of Christmas. Now that I am able to write again, I will attempt to write my beliefs for Christmas, and I hope you, my readers, will share your comments and traditions with me. Many of my traditions have changed over the years, but I still strive to share the memories made during my childhood. The traditions of church and singing in the choir. Still, I am searching for a church within my community and when I find it, I will retrieve the traditions I shared as a child.

    Christmas is a season to refresh, give thanks and make time to find the little things that are so special in life. We, as a family, donate to local charities during Christmas, and I always contribute to St. Jude and other non-profits. Of course, I always reach to donate to the Salvation Army bell ringers, Meals on Wheels and others. My contributions are small, but they always warm my heart, just to share a bit of generosity and love to those who need help during the Christmas season.

    To all of my readers, I wish you a joyous Christmas season. May you take the time to appreciate life, and not get bogged down within the Christmas rush. Take the time to say Merry Christmas to a complete stranger, and smile! Have a Merry, Merry Christmas!

     

     

     

  • Doctor’s Scales vs. Weight Watchers Scales — WHICH One Is Correct???


    Dearest Readers:

    I hope you are doing well, enjoying the weekend. My plans for this morning were to go outside early and walk my silly children. Unfortunately, it is an overcasting morning with rain in the forecast, so the plans changed. I will play with my children, and hop on the treadmill instead. If I walk in the rain, I run a gigantic chance of getting ill, and for those of you who know, I was dreadfully ill from late October 2012 until January 19, 2013. I do not wish to repeat that illness. Isn’t it a bit funny how I remember the day I awoke feeling better, feeling that finally the acute bronchitis that strove to attack my body indefinitely, succumbed to my determination to get well. Crossing my fingers here for a moment, in hopes I do not get ill this year.

    Yesterday, I went to my doctor for my six month check. As you know, I have Type 2 Diabetes. My last blood work was great, with an A1C level of 5.4. I am hopeful my levels this time are still as good, and they certainly should be. It would be great IF my doctor phoned, telling me I no longer needed the oral drugs I must take for Diabetes. Next week, I look forward to the phone call, revealing those reports. Until then, I continue my daily habits. Perhaps “Daily Habits” is the subject matter for this blog today.

    Those of you who are regular readers of my blog know that I attend weekly Weight Watchers meetings, and lately, I feel as if I am on a roller coaster ride, or a yo-yo. Allow me to explain. For about seven months I have bounced, back and forth, with weight loss. One week, I drop a pound. The next week, I gain two pounds. Next week, drop .02, and on…and on… At the meetings, I’ve learned this is an expected process; however, after this week, I maintained – the same weight as last week. At my doctor’s office, according to his scale, I weighed exactly five pounds more than I did — the day before — at Weight Watchers??? How can that be? When I visit my doctor, I must fast for the blood work, so it could not be something I ate. I addressed this discovery to my doctor. His reply — “I’d go with the Weight Watchers scale.” Another discovery at my doctor’s office was — his scale is located within the traffic area of his office. To the right of the scale, a nice looking older guy sat. No doubt he was probably reading the scale, so when I jumped off, I moved the weights! Of course, this doctor’s scale is one of those antiquated ones that I have never trusted – the type where the weights must balance, and because of the size of it, there isn’t any privacy. I made a suggestion to my doctor for him to please have the scale located elsewhere – for privacy purposes. “Women prefer privacy,” I said. I don’t know if that will encourage them to move the scales to a different location, but it would make women feel better. What do you think, readers? Have you noticed at doctor’s offices, there is NO PRIVACY for scales??? Aren’t doctors supposed to have Privacy Laws? Isn’t what we weigh — PRIVATE?

    My doctor and I discussed many issues this time, including why I was having such difficulty losing weight now. I understand as we age, our metabolism slows down; however, I am an active woman. I work out five to seven days weekly. I eat healthy and track my foods via the Weight Watchers e-tools site. Years prior to Weight Watchers, I tried my best to work out on the treadmill. My goal was ten minutes. At first, I could not move for five minutes on the treadmill without huffing and puffing. I blamed it on asthma. Determined, I started moving on the treadmill more, working up to ten minutes…then 20…30, and now — I am proud to say, I can move on that treadmill for 50.30 minutes. I count it down with the timer on my phone. Never do I get winded now. I am so proud of that accomplishment, and the inches are coming off, but the weight — I do believe the brakes to my weight loss are locked in place.

    My doctor suggested going to Metabolic Weight Loss Medical Centers. http://www.goingmetabolic.com/faq.php I did a bit of research, reading their frequently asked questions site, and I have decided to remain with Weight Watchers. Years ago, I was successful with a weight loss program of drugs, shots and special meals, but this time I am determined to do this on my own — with the beauty, encouragement and lifestyle change of Weight Watchers. I have known people who have lost weight in this style and plan, but I am not motivated to go there. I want to accomplish my weight loss on my own — with Weight Watchers! Yes, it has been an incredibly slow process for me, but I have to remind myself that IF I stop and go to some other ‘weight loss’ plan, I will be hurting myself. I walked into Weight Watchers, mortified…ashamed…shaking like a leaf…afraid that someone would recognize me… When the leader saw that ‘familiar look’ on my face, she reached out to me, encouraging me. “We were all in those shoes before,” she said with a beautiful smile. Kathy, my leader, has become a friend. She is there to encourage me when I squeal with a weight loss, and she is still encouraging me when I frown. I do not consider that I am a ‘Loser’ — that is someone who gives up, and I am a ‘winner’ even when the scales say otherwise. Yes, it is taking such a long time, but I am truly liking the person I see, reflecting me, at the full-length mirror.

    I joined Weight Watchers because I wanted to accomplish my weight loss on my own. I wanted to be one of the women who says, “This I do for me,” and I wanted to feel the achievement of my own weight loss, regardless of the cost. I still believe I will break this bouncing rubber ball plateau, and I will accomplish my goals. After all, this I do for me. Now — if only I could persuade my doctor’s office to move their scales to a more private area. Wouldn’t that be an accomplishment!

  • Losing Weight — Definitely a Work In Progress


    Dearest Readers:

    Today is another dreary, cloud covered day in Charleston, SC. We’ve had so much rain it is almost impossible to report how many inches our beautiful city has tolerated. I have lost count. At least my lawn is looking better and the zoysia plugs we planted appear to be growing a bit, this time. We also have a bumper crop of mosquitoes and ants. Ants have enjoyed snacking on my feet, so much so that I am hesitant to wear sandals much anymore. Such is the life of living in the South!

    Last week, I did not write about my life as a Weight Watcher. I lost .06 of a pound, but I must say, inches appear to be falling off of me, and that is good! Yes, I am working out more, using my treadmill almost daily.

    Last evening, I watched a program that is new to me. Extreme Weight Loss. http://abc.go.com/shows/extreme-weight-loss/video/PL55124937/_m_VDKA0_fno7e7bt?CID=google_sem_1. For two hours, I watched the struggles and accomplishments of “Trina.” I could relate to her story in a small way, due to the manipulations I endured with my mother. When Trina lost weight, I cheered. When I watched her stuffing her face with unhealthy choices — cookies in the early morning with a large glass of whole milk — birthday cake — and so much more, I became curious if she truly had the strength and commitment to lose her weight. At the beginning of Trina’s story, she weighed 290.1 pounds. She lost down to 149 pounds on day 270, only to gain 32 pounds at her next weigh-in. Trina is truly addicted to food — especially unhealthy junk food. Fortunately, at the ending of the show, she met her goal of 145 pounds and she truly grew into a beautiful flower. The question at hand is — will she keep it off? Unless Trina truly deals with her food addiction, I think not.

    When I joined Weight Watchers, I was not totally convinced that I would stick to the program, and that I would achieve my weight goal. After seeing “Extreme Weight Loss,” I am convinced that my determination with Weight Watchers will be successful. Why?

    Simple. With the support and encouragement I receive at Weight Watchers meetings, I have learned that I am not in this journey alone, and I have made many new friends, just by going to the meetings. While it is true, I do not need a program such as “Extreme Weight Loss,” since I do not have over 100 pounds or more to lose, like the guests on Extreme Weight Loss, I have discovered I cannot accomplish my goals alone. In all honesty, I wish I had stuck it out with Weight Watchers years ago — back in the days when everything had to be weighed and fruit was not encouraged. I tried other programs, only to lose the weight and gain it back. So much for learning something back in those days!

    I do hope the guests on “Extreme Weight Loss” manage to keep their weight off, and NEVER EVER gain it back again. Chris Powell, the transformation specialist, is a motivational expert who gets a bit frustrated when someone weakens, such as Trina did. After last night, I do believe I am a fan of “Extreme Weight Loss,” because it is the type of show that teaches those suffering with obesity that they can change their behaviors and lose the weight. OK…in all honesty, I think they lose an amazing amount of weight a bit quickly…Yes, they exercise and they are supposed to learn healthy eating habits, but someone such as Trina seems to be a loose cannon who might slip back into her old habits again — much to the credit of a cruel, domineering mother who teaches her that she is unworthy, and a husband and family that truly attempted to trigger her old habits. One of the children rushed off to get fast food and root beer on one of the sound bites, only to bring it home and eat it while Trina watches. So much for a supportive family!

    My husband attempts to trigger me, at times, by suggesting pizza or fast food, and when I mention “Remember, I’m doing Weight Watchers,” he steps back. I suppose he sees my dedication. He certainly knows how slowly I lose weight. Since joining Weight Watchers, I have grown so much — not in size — that is shrinking! I have grown as a woman…as a person…I have grown into someone who truly thinks twice about what I’m consuming. I suppose one could say Weight Watchers has become my life. Now, that I am a fan of “Extreme Weight Loss,” I will probably continue watching the program since it is encouraging. I do have a problem with the sound bites of where the guests get surgical procedures to tighten the skin, simply because the program only touches on this segment of the show. The end result is either a handsome or beautiful makeover.

    Nevertheless, I will continue my journey — the Weight Watchers way. I am reaching my goals and soon, perhaps — my star will shine for me — the Weight Watchers Way!

    What I’ve learned during my journey:
    Healthy eating works. Eat fresh fruits and vegetables.
    Record everything consumed either in a journal, or on the Weight Watchers e-tools site. This certainly helps.
    When falling off the wagon — my reference to when I’ve consumed something I shouldn’t have consumed — I hop back on. I no longer beat myself to death by feeding negative thoughts. I replenish by whispering positive feedback…and for me, that is truly an accomplishment since as a child, my mother ridiculed me, telling me I would never amount to anything. She reminded me that I would never lose weight because I was ugly and didn’t deserve to be beautiful or worthy of love. I believe in the power of positive thoughts and feedback and I tell myself that when I fall down, I have no where else to go — but UP! Achieving my weight loss is reassuring me that I do deserve better things in life…just like my dad reminded me, until the day he breathed his last breath.

    A few weeks ago at the Weight Watchers meeting, we discussed “anchors” and how anchors help us to continue our pursuit. My anchor is a simple one – something I read and repeat to myself daily:

    “Success is failure turned inside out.
    The silver tint of the clouds of doubt.
    And you never can tell how close you are.
    It may be nearer when it seems afar.
    So, stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit.
    It’s when things seem worse, you mustn’t quit!”

    -Anonymous-

    The last stanza is what I whisper to myself daily:
    “So, stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit.
    It’s when things seem worse, you mustn’t quit!”

    I hope you will continue reading my saga with Weight Watchers.
    Weight Watchers — “Because it Works!”