Introducing...

I am introducing a new label entitled "Silly Willa." I must capture and share, somehow, how nutty my crazy pussy is. And the thing that makes it so ironic is that she is so beautiful. So, let's go Silly Willa...

Just one more...

Some people say,

"waitresses don't deserve tips,
they've got their wages."
I say let them try the job on a full moon,
on a Saturday night.
Let them deal with a horn-rimmed-customer,
who is seriously contemplating
"this strange chemical on my knife."
His wife orders a NY steak, well done
"don't forget the A1" and fries
and asks why we don't serve ranch dressing.
Let them entertain four businessmen, three from Idaho
who think waitresses are as hot as stews.
I'm never in position when they grab, knowing they tip 9%.
Let them control their laughter
when customers use their bread plates for ashtrays,
and ask for a doggy bag to take an empty lobster tail shell
home to "Junior, who's never seen one of these babies."
Let them solve the problem of consumer oriented
martini drinkers who order it
"straight up."
The few extra swigs
splash on my tray
while I squeeze through the bar.
They feel cheated.
Let them live off of $113.47
every other week.

The Waitresses

Nancy (51)
comes in swaying smelling of vodka.
Cuts me off at the side station every time.
"I'm older, have respect" she says.
I frequently hear her scream "who left the
dirty wine glasses here?"
No one answers.
Peggy (47)
tells the manager he should change
station 6's in time,
tells us it won't be busy tonight,
Coast Hwy's expansion is absorbing our parking lot.
"All the customers complain to me."
Mildred (57)
her food gets cold
while she tells jokes
to customers she's met in her 20 years here.
They don't mind cold food.
She's slowing, her body shakes uncontrollably at times.
The busboys say she's senile.
Anita (45)
the only one who remembered my birthday.
She sets dirty wineglasses on my tables
when she thinks I'm not looking.
She comes to Halloween parties,
dressed as Superwoman.
Her husband can't keep a job,
she'll work any Sunday.
Jeri (24)
she flirts with the buy boys
talks rock'n roll with the cooks
and works five dinner shifts now.
The waitresses still look after her.
Peggy repeats "don't worry, kid, just stick by me."
She can't help but laugh
when Peggy turns her back.

I'm going to smile anyway

I have been in bad shape the last several days. It started with my knees and legs aching badly. Followed by my thumb starting to pop and, Yeow! it hurts when I try to use it. Followed by an infected tooth, which I sat on all weekend. Then the extraction -- which was the most pain I've been in in decades. I was at 9.5 on the 1-10 pain scale, for over an hour. And now the residual pain as the tooth heals and the thumb goes to therapy.

I will still try to smile. It's because I have no need to feel badly for not trikking for a week, or walking for several days. I have no reason to feel guilty or lazy or as if I've been back-sliding. And besides, I will walk today.

I don't have to worry about losing all the "fitness" I've gained. And even if I did, well, I'm signed on for the long haul. Just like my food plan. If I eat badly today that's ok. It's not about today, it's about 2010.

Pussy Love, Part two X 2

I have a clear plastic box that is originally a panel from an electric litter box. For some reason Jake took to it on top of the window ledge between my kitchen and living room. I don't almost step on him there. I don't pass food through there. And, he can see the whole apartment from this perch. It's what cats love, height and low traffic. If he is happy and quiet, I too am happy and quiet.

Jake tends to be loud and impatient. But who wouldn't be. His Buddy and our soul mate cat, Buster, passed away 1 1/2 years ago. They were best friends. They slept together, played together and even groomed each other. The makeup of his territory has changed drastically.

No more are quiet days of napping in the sun. Now he's likely to get jumped upon, any time, any place. I feel for him, I really do, but my hands are tied. I adopt pets for life, and he doesn't like the new setup. I love his "sisters" as much as I love him. So he needs to get used to it and find places that are safe for him, like the one pictured here.

Nap on my darling Jake...

Pussy Love, part two again

This little princess is a very shy kitty. She is small and afraid of large things, which from her point of view is almost everything. I will always protect and love her. I know if I hadn't been there, she would have been feral. And I don't think she would have lived very long.

She is affectionate when relaxed, yet she still doesn't trust me completely. And I have been with her since day one! I'm glad she is flourishing with me none the less. I am patient and I know in a few years she'll be all over me, and I'll wish she were less affectionate. On second thought -- no, I won't. She is perfect as she is...

Pussy Love, Part two

I love how photogenic Willa is. Her eyes are a turquoise color that shows up in photos. She's always striking silly poses, like when she does a half somersault, and just stays there with her ass in the air and her back paws around her ears. That one is probably in the Kama Sutra. She just does it because she is the silliest cat I have ever lived with.

She is also teaching herself to scoot along the wall, as if she is climbing horizontally, (the baseboards are carpeted). I really need to do a photo album called Silly Willa. So here's to another shot...

Sitting With Myself

Ever since I put those two pictures of myself together (see 3/14 post), I have been quietly contemplating my success in the weight loss category. Upon closer inspection and an appointment with my doctor, I have lost about 12 pounds since the beginning of the year. That is about one pound per week. That is exactly where I am supposed to be. About one pound per week.

I look back at all the misery and complaining I did this year around losing weight. I thought I wasn't losing weight, then I thought I might have lost some weight and then I'd weigh myself on an old analog scale, which I was advised to throw away. WOW, no wonder I suffer from stress disorders.

I have learned that I AM successful with what I'm doing. I have changed my eating habits, stopped with all the candy, cookies and pies. I now eat yogurt, protein bars, and fresh fruit. I lay off bad oils and bake, steam or poach. I don't eat red meat and I do eat salmon a few times a week. That is all I have done.

Well that, and my love affair with my Trikke. That's just plain 'ole fun, not a workout.

Butt Shot

I love this butt shot. Even tho it's kinda dark, I can see development here. I remember my butt being flat and fat. In this pic I look like I have a tighten-ing ass with shape, actual shape! My butt's rising like popin' fresh biscuits. Okay so I got a little ahead of myself, but there is progress. I spent the last two months whining about nothing happening and now I'm posting shots of me exclaiming how much better I look while staring at the pics wondering if it's just camera angles or the dark colors I'm wearing that makes me look successful.

I am so disconnected from my body. This makes it hard to pinpoint what I really look like. Even the images in the mirror are distorted for me. I am used to seeing layers of flab, and even though the shape is the same, the size has gotten smaller. It's kinda like an optical illusion. Only I can see it, or not see it as the case may be.