I love a good skat

I like Al Jarreau, I really do. Y’know, he’s one of those artists that you don’t realize how much you really like until you’re sitting there listening to him in concert. We went to see him last night, the hubby and I. Hubby really, really likes him, has ever since our college days. I remember him serenading me with Jarreau’s “Tenderness” album on more than one occasion (he’d probably deny it on pain of death now…lol).

So we dressed up, I was understated Manhattan chic and looking as fine as I wanted to (hey, it’s my story, I’ll tell it how I please!). Anywho, we dropped the kids off with our neighbors (Louis if you’re reading this, you guys rock!) and headed out to New Brunswick. It was bitter cold too but we were gonna hit the town or go out trying…lol. The funny thing is if you know Al, he’s kind of an eclectic mix of Bill Cosby and Smoky Robinson and he just doesn’t give a damn. I mean the man’s been around since the 70’s, he’ll say what he pleases, when he pleases, how he pleases. He had us rolling; all talking up in between songs and stuff, calling people out in the audience and just strutting around the stage like it wasn’t nothing but a thang. And the man can skat…when he starts making those noises with his mouth, I still can’t figure out how he does it?

It was a really nice evening out; we were definitely out of our generational element judging by the sea of salt-and-pepper heads bobbing around us. Why do old folks always try to act like they’re distinguished and important? Just milling around in their 3-piece suits, fedora’s and fancy furs acting like their sh** don’t stink?

But I digress, as I said, it was a really nice evening out and I discovered that I really, really like Al Jarreau. So what did you do this weekend?

Food Coma

Oh my God…Thanksgiving food coma. Like seriously, I woke up this morning, still full. I’m sluggish, bloated and I swear I’ve gained 5 pounds. And do you know the worst? I’m not done yet…oh hell to the no, lol. There is a half a chocolate cake (with cream cheese frosting!), leftover sweet potatoes and stuffing and at least a half a pint of ice cream with my name on it. I refuse to step on the scale and there will be no talk of the gym. The hubby has taken the RR’s to Chuck E. Cheese and to run a few errands and I’m here at home, under the premise that I need to do laundry. In reality, I’m too full and bloated to fit into any of my clothes, and too damn exhausted to move. Today, I am a total couch potato with no remorse. Roll me over and stick me with a fork, I’m done.

Oh and about Black Friday? You can put that where? Right back there.

G1 anyone?

So I know people just wanna throw up when I talk about how wonderful my hubby is but I’m sorry to say I’m at it again. Now, what did he do you ask?

That man went out and bought me the new G1 phone by T-Mobil…in white nonetheless. I mean, I am not a phone person. Like, literally, if it rings and I can answer it, I’m good. But I have to admit, this phone is off the hookilicious!!! (made that up, right then and there). I have never, I repeat, never had a gadget do the things this phone does (mmm-hmmm, not even that one). I could literally throw out my computer. I mean I can practically one-touch everything. I can get to my email, my bank account, facebook, GPS…you name it, one touch and I’m there. It’s got a full QWERT keyboard which is actually quite easy to use considering the small keys. It’s always online, no looking for hot-spots or Wi-fi and all that stuff so Internet is always at your fingertips and the connection is very good so no dropped service. I mean, I gotta tell y’all, this phone totally does it for me…just like the hubby. Aight, I’m off to go find out what other amazing things it can do…

My-geria

My RR's are still not over their vacation and insist at every turn that they want to go back. RR#1 cried at every turn for about a week and RR#2 loudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen: "Gwanpaw's in My-geria, I going to My-geria!" - read, Nigeria.

They've picked up quite an ensemble of local colloquialisms, if you can imagine the following said in the deep slightly guttural Nigerian accent: "Ah, ah!", "see me trouble o!" and my personal favorite "abeg go jo!". And the thing is that I would actually be ready to take them half seriously if they didn't dissolve into gut-wrenching, hysterical laughter every time they said them. It's like, to them, the words are so unbelievably silly, they couldn't possible hold any real meaning right? And the funny thing is that I kind of get that...considering the range of gesticulations and facial expressions that usually accompany the phrases.

And to make matters worse, I actually do use those phrases with them, often in all seriousness and where do you think that gets me? Zip. Eat your food, jo! Stop that, ah-ah?! Abeg, move, jo! All result in fits of hysterical laughter. So I'm going to have to find some new threats and phrases that will actually resonate in their tiny, warped little minds. Spanglish perhaps? J/k...lol.

A Beautiful Day

Oh, it's a beautiful day. Today I woke up feeling so high, so elated, I literally floated out of bed. I mean, granted, I just came back from a three week vacation, extremely refreshed. And…Obama's heading to the White House…I mean, that alone. But there's something else, I can't quite put my finger on it. And all the usual factors that tend to get to me – my weight, school, work, they're all still there, all still worrisome. I don't know, maybe I'm just getting older and a little more grateful for the little things in life (like how RR#2 has picked up the term "see me trouble o, ah-ah!" after three weeks in the Motherland)? Or maybe it's the holidays? I love the holidays with all the hustle and bustle…I don't know. And why do I have to find out why I'm happy anyway? Why can't I just be freaking happy for no darn reason? I can see it now: "RED ALERT!! RED ALERT!! Happy for no apparent reason" …lol. Anyway, I'll run with it for now and if I figure it out, I'll let you know. In the meantime, enjoy some of my vacation pictures:

At Bar Beach on Lagos Island

Me being silly at the beach...did someone say "Top Model"?

Cooking a pot of rice on open firewood...it's all about the experience right?

Chilling at one of the newer spots in Lagos- Barcelos. Ok, I felt a little skinny here too...lol.

At the Balogun Marketplace...insane!

A World Away

It's been three insane, hectic and glorious weeks since I left New Jersey and though I've done this time and time again, I am never the same. I amaze myself at my ability to adapt to two distincly different worlds. Leaving the relative peace and calm of the developed world where infrastucture is a given and order is taken for granted. Where a single day can be planned weeks, even months in advance and technology literally moves at the speed of light. Into the developing world where organized chaos reigns, scheduling is futile and your day is shaped by whether the powers that be will give you electricity or not. Where traffic jams have no apparent cause and vehicles are besieged by hawkers and vendors selling everything from water baggies (pure water) to electrical heaters to womens' underwear.

But I love it, even thrive in it. There's just something about the sights, smells and sounds of Lagos (Nigeria) that puts me in a comfort zone like no other. Which is really strange because I'm not one to subject myself to anything other than a life of utter and complete, unabashed luxury (to the extent possible). But how can you not love a country where you can do all your grocery shopping in traffic; grease anyones palms to get anything; purchase, peel, dice and eat a pineapple right on the roadside; and bar hop or club until daybreak (alcohol included). Of course there are the tradeoffs...the scorching heat, sporadic electricity, questionable drinking water sources, horrific roads riddled with crater sized potholes and the constant fear that you might be robbed at any given moment. But there's also the warmth of friends and family, the constant socializing at endless events, and the often flagrant almost comical displays of accummulated wealth by the filthy rich.

Alas, all good things must come to an end right? I head out tomorrow. Back to the predictable, safe, haven of the developed world that I call home. It'll be cold now, frost most likely setting in most days. I'll settle down and dig in to work and school, fixing all the messes created in my absence and catching up with deadlines. The kids will be back in school and the hubby will resume his CT-NJ commute. But at least I'll have the memories of another wonderful vacation tucked safely away, to be retrieved on stress filled days and cold winter nights.

A mothers love?

It's amazing what we mothers do for our kids. I mean, the lengths I will go to to boost my sons' confidence, just really make him feel like he can do and achieve anything...it's really something else. I know that RR#1 is always striving to make me "proud". i mean really, Like when I pick him up at school, his teacher will tell me that after he completes a picture or some other creation, he always asks her if his mommy is going to be "proud" of him. I think it's so cute and utterly aware of him to understand the importance of making me "proud". Hopefully, this will be a characteristic he carries with him throughout life...propelling him to achieve great heights and become the amazing person I know he is destined to be (what? I just really love and believe in my kids...deal with it...lol!).

Anyway, back to his many "creations" at school. So RR#1 came home the other day, the proud bearer of handmade "gifts" for his mommy. Specifically, a glaringly colorful beaded necklace and butterfly hairpiece. Adorable to look at. Not so adorable to wear. But how do you tell that to a 4-year old who is looking at you as if he just gave you his kidney? And who says with all the pride and joy a 4 yr old can muster..."mommy, are you gonna wear it?". And I looked down at my little angel, all hopeful and prideful and I said what any good momma would say "Of course hun bun, I'm gonna wear it, I love it!" "Now?", he asked. "Now?", I repeated. "Yes, mommy, wear it now. Look it goes with your green shirt." "Ok", I replied, "ok, I'll wear it right now". I mean what else could I possibly have done? And you know what? It was so worth it to see my sons beaming face. To hear him point out to random people at the street..."look, I made it for my mommy." It also helped to dispel the looks of shock and disbelief I received as I blazed a blindingly colorful path around town...necklace and butterfly in tow.

Wigging out...

I'm going on vacation. Yup, three glorious, uninterrupted weeks of lay about-wake up when I want-bathe-don't bathe-eat-eat-eat-(did I mention eat?)-drop the kids off with the grandpas and the grandmas-and just generally relax-vacation. Anyway, since I'm going to an extremely hot and humid climate, I had to figure out what to do with my hair. I thought about braids but that would just be dumb. It would cost me about $120 to braid my hair here but if I braid in Nigeria...it's like $9. So then I thought...au naturale? Au hell no! Hmmm...a weave? Eh...I could take it or leave it but, I really do not want any of my hair out and I sooo detest that obviously stitched together enclosure I see on the crown of some of the more uncouth femme fatale who venture into the world of the un-beweavable.

So then I thought...wigs. Duh! And I remember a friend of mine saying she wears wigs all the time but she sews them on. Perfecto. I could buy a nice wig, sew it on and be done. It would have to be a really nice quality human hair piece, something I could tease and tangle and just have fun with. Not too long or too thick...a nice cropped, sexy angled bob would do. So I headed to the wig shop and dropped a grip on a cute two toned piece that almost fit the exact bill of what I was looking for. And then I went to the hair salon to get it sewn on and was informed it would cost me almost twice what i paid for the freaking hair. Oh no she didn't. So yours truly, as industrious as ever decided to take a first hand stab at it and sew it on herself (I'm funny like that, I'll spend a grip on an item and then cheap out on labor...I'm kind of a do it yourself gal).

Well here is the finished product, not too shabby if I say so myself, in fact I'm quite pleased considering I haven't even attempted to style it yet...waddya think?

Introducing Vanilla...

Wow, it's been a crazy month and I've barely had time to catch my breath let alone post to my blog. We're getting ready for our trip abroad and of course everything's come to a head and just must get done before we leave. I'm dealing though...I just keep telling myself "...and this too shall pass..."

Anyway a not so funny thing happened with RR#2 the other night and I am seriously hoping this was a one time occurence. Normally, my RR's are in bed by about 8:30-9:00pm. I then settle down to do homework and catch up on my lectures and readings (I live an exciting life don't I?). Finally around 1:00am, I flop into bed exhausted and get ready to do it all over again in another 6 hours. 6 hours. 6 precious hours of blissfully uninterrupted sleep (or so I'm thinking), until on this particular night, RR#2 calls out to me. It's about five minutes to three, I'm bleary eyed and set on autopilot ready to mutter some incomprehensible, pacifications to soothe him back to sleep when I keep hearing him say something about pee-pee. I'm a little surprised cos usually I take him just before he goes to bed and he's good till morning but I figure hey, if he's gotta go, he's gotta go. So I lift him out of bed and he's clutching his dear little teddy bear named "Vanilla". We get to the bathroom and I try to pull down his pants so he can go but he's resisting and insisting "no". Well now, I'm wondering what the heck is wrong with him when he suddenly turns around and plops - get this - Vanilla onto the toilet seat. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was woken up at 3 in the morning to take a teddy bear to pee. And to make matters worse, after a moment, he had the nerve to lift Vanilla off the toilet seat and say "That's better" then proceed to walk out of the bathroom and tuck himself back into bed.

Y'know, I wanted to be mad. I wanted to warn him sternly to never, ever wake me up again at 3 in the morning to take a bear to pee. Wanted to explain to him the dire consequences of such actions in the future. But truth be told...he's only 2 years old and I was just too damn tired. And these RRs have broken me a little. I'm less feisty, less prone to outcries and moments of passion. Plus, both him and Vanilla were already fast asleep. So I headed back to my room and settled into bed hoping for 3 more hours of uninterrupted sleep...*sigh*.

The Twighlight Zone

Ok, let me preface this by saying I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. No seriously, I swear to you.

Today I went to RBMC for my practicum like I always do a couple of mornings a week right? Well the practicum went well, I finished up all my tasks, confirmed a meeting for next week and bid my preceptor farewell. I got on the elevator, took that down to the main lobby like I always do. Walked past all the uninsured patients waiting for charity care and headed straight for the escalators down to the main lobby and out the front door. Nothing untoward here, pretty typical. Well just as I am about to step onto the escalator, a man comes swiftly round the corner and steps in front of me. He's talking to a lady coming up behind him walking somewhat unsteadily and talking alot. Now, I was a bit miffed that this man had swooped in front of me but I figured, what the heck, I'll just let him go, there's no fire right? Well, then here's this lady - maybe late 30's, white woman, long gray/brown hair pulled back in a stringy ponytail, light blue pair of old lady jean shorts (you know the kind you might get at a Walmart or something?), flimsy gray tank top with one shoulder strap falling off, white converse-like sneakers, glasses perched precariously on her nose and clutching some paperwork. My first thought was "this lady is not well". She's either suffering from some physical disability that prevents her from properly balancing or she is strung out on meth. In a nutshell, she looked homeless. Now, I am not being judgemental here, I'm just trying to give you a vivid scenario of my perception (afterall if she is ill, makes sense to be in the hospital and if she's an addict, well maybe she came for treatment right?).

Anyway, long story short, I moved aside to let her get on the escalator along with her companion. We've gone down 1, maybe 2 steps when it happens, she keeled forward, limbs flailing, paperwork sailing through the air, glasses askew and tumbled full force into her companion. OMG...OMG. I cannot believe this. Someone rushes to the emergency elevator switch and frantically tries to turn it off but it's not working. She's on her neck/back, braced up against this guy, legs akimbo, and I'm looking directly into her bewildered eyes as I move inexorably towards her destined to be caught up in the unwieldy entanglement of human limbs and machinery. Finally, just in time, as I frantically try to backstep on the escalator (and we all know how futile this is right?) it stops. Not just the escalator, the world. People are peering down from the balcony, whispering and pointing, emergency personnel are mobilizing wheelchairs and other assistance, an aide rushes to help her to her feet (which takes a good minute , mind you) and I am standing there completely frozen in shock. The weird thing is, she kept saying she was ok, she had just stepped on wrong and she wanted to leave but she couldn't even stand up! They told her she couldn't leave, they had to fill out paperwork and file an incident report etc. Then, they started rounding up witnesses. Of course myself and the other guy on the escalator were the prime witnesses so they pulled us over. First they questioned the man and guess what he said? "I didn't see anything, I'm blind." What!? I mean, I'm not doubting he's blind but his other senses must be on helly high alert cos he sure swooped onto that escalator with the ease and swiftness of a cheetah. So that left me...unwitting, unsuspecting #1 prime witness extraordinaire. I'm thinking "crap, I'm gonna be here all day" (selfish, i know, but hey I never claimed to be perfect) . But it wasn't really that bad, they just took my name and information and asked me to recount what I had seen and then they let me go.

I really felt bad for the lady, but not bad enough to stick around (she's in a fricking hospital for Gods sake, she'll be fine). I took one last look at the melee behind me and fled out the hospital doors. I really felt like I was stepping out of a Twilight Zone.

The Worst that ever did it...

I am the worst that ever did it. Just the absolute worst. So today is our anniversary right? Seven years and still going strong. I mean, it's been a good seven years, we've had our moments (have we ever!) but over all, I'd do it again if I had a choice. But this is not the issue here. The issue here is that I have consistently forgotten about the day that marks our union for at least 5 of the 7 years. What is that? I mean, no really, what is that? It's not that I don't care, it's not that I don't remember up until a few days before...it's just that for some reason on the morn of that day, I walk around in total oblivion hurriedly executing the tasks of yet another day while the hubby looks on in mild (amusement?) at my total lack of consciousness as to its significance.

Take today for example. Woke up late, had to get the kids up and ready for school, notarize a document at the bank, put in a few practicum hours at the hospital and return home to start the day's work. So, as you can imagine, I'm a little frazzled, a lot irritated and a tremendous amount of bitchy. So I'm in the bathroom, trying to put coco butter on my ashy feet because in my haste, I forgot to put any on before dressing up. I'm hopping on one foot, simultaneously rubbing, trying to put away the hot flat iron without burning myself or starting a fire, and yelling at the kids to get their butts downstairs for breakfast when the hubby enters the bathroom and gently (yes, in retrospect, I'll admit it was gentle) touches my shoulder. "What?", I glare at him as I try to hop out of his way so he can get to whatever corner of the medicine cabinet he needs to get to. But instead of reaching over the sink, he leans in and gives me an oh-so-gentle kiss on the lips and whispers "Happy Anniversary". Aaaarrrggh!!! "No", I exclaimed, "it's not today...is today the tenth? the eleventh? Crap, I'm late on the kids tuition". "It's the eighth", he states stoically, all the while looking at me as poker faced as [insert name of best poker player you know]. I'm sputtering and stuttering and finally just admit that, crap, I forgot. "But I remembered yesterday", I say, in a valiant attempt to salvage whatever dregs of womanhood I can at the moment (because shouldn't it be the other way around, shouldn't he be forgetting our anniversary?). He says nary a word. And still says nothing even after i follow him out of the bathroom trying to explain that I had remembered but it was just the way the day started, it threw me off balance blah, blah, blah.

He wasn't mad or anything. If anything, I think he relishes being able to hold this one thing over me, the fact that I forget and he remembers. So finally I said "Ok, this is your thing. You remember anniversaries, birthdays (don't ask), and other similarly important dates. So in our marriage, this is your thing, ok? Because I get (and do) everything else, everything." He still didn't say anything.

*Sigh*...better put Cartier on speed dial...happy anniversary, honey.

Two buttons and a penny...

Today I was walking around the house after the cleaners left, inspecting every surface, nook and cranny for "faults" with which to barrage them with on their next visit in order to ensure top notch service and keep them from resting on their oars, when I stumbled upon a little bag, tucked neatly away in a corner of the living room, completely out of place. "Ah-ha!", I exclaimed as I pounced on the unsuspecting object of my scrutiny...exhibit "A". As I held up the little bag, I peered closer at it unable to make out it's contents:

Curious, I opened the bag and poured the items onto the floor. Wow. Amazing. Enclosed in the bag were the following: a pencil sharpener, 1 checker, two buttons and a penny. I immediately knew these belonged to RR #1. Now as mundane as all this seems, I could not help but marvel at the simplicity of this child. Here I buy him all manner of complicated toys, books, games etc. and at the end of the day, he is content to play with two buttons and a penny? So I wonder, had I wrapped said baggy up for Christmas and placed under the tree, would it have elicited the same shriek of joy as the Spider man watch or Leapfrog Gaming system he actually got? And where were these items now? Strewn carelessly upon the basement floor while his bag of buttons was tucked safely and lovingly in the far corner of my living room.

I say all this to say...are we trying too hard? Perhaps as humans, our baser instincts are simple, and uncomplicated, joy wrought by objects of little or no material value but of an import born of sentiment and creativity. Perhaps items are not what they are, but rather what we make them. I don't know, this is all a bit much for me too. I might try this theory out a little but I'm not exactly ready to give up the vast majority of my creature comforts just yet...we'll see, we shall see.

Improvements are good, improvements are good, improve...

Improvements are good right? I mean the whole concept of making something better is viewed as a positive right? Ergo, home improvements are good. So why do i feel as frazzled as all hell right now?

The job is simple, lay new tiles in the foyer, bathroom and kitchen, replace the bathroom toilet and sink, peel off the wallpaper in the kitchen and slap on a few coats of paint. Not a major overhaul, just a few quaint touches aimed at making the homestead a little more comfy and cozy. The contractors are great, they're on time and they're diligent. None of this is the problem...it's all good. The problem is that I had not anticipated my home becoming the dust laden, tool strewn, debris ridden, chaotic, refrigerator in the living room, gas stove in the dining, can't fry a freaking egg in the kitchen or even get a glass of water, hovel that it had become.

I mean, in my head, I guess I assumed that since the world revolves around me (i know, i know, not really but a diva can fantasize can't she?)...the contractors would too. Not so much the case...lol. So now I'm sitting here trying to plug the fridge into the dining room socket so we can at least have water. I've got the Rugrats running circles around all the confusion and loving it. Dear hubby has escaped to CT and here, lie I, amidst it all. At what point will I finally lose it, I wonder? Will it be when I have to bundle the RRs into the car for a dinner trip to McD's? Or will it be when I realize I am forced to go off plan because I can't warm up my NS entree? Or maybe it will be that blessed moment when I make a mad dash to the downstairs bathroom on a commercial break during my "must see" TV show and cop a squat and keep on going till I hit the floor cos...bam...the frickin' toilet is sitting on my front lawn! *sigh*...tomorrow this will all be worth it. right?

Still Got it (and loads of fun)

Wow ok, that was, like, one of the busiest weekends I’ve had in a long time. It started out kind of sad. I had to go to my former boss’ funeral Saturday morning. He died of pancreatic cancer which is like the suckiest cancer to have cos basically you don’t find out you have it until it’s almost killed you (it’s totally asymptomatic). And to make matters worse, some friends of ours were attending a separate funeral for a friend of theirs who died of the same thing…wtf? I mean, I was really freaked out for a while there and apparently there’s not even like a routine screening you can do or anything. Anyway, it was really sad cos he was a good guy…and cool too, he played in a band with Bon Jovi before he was famous.

So when I got back, we had to go to a birthday party for Rugrat #1’s friend. Ok, secretly, I really wanted to go cos it was at the roller skating rink and I had not skated in donkey years and was wondering if I still “got it like that?” We actually had a really good time, RR#1 had never skated in his life so this was a 1st but he didn’t do too badly. By the end of the party, he was off on his own skating cautiously along the edge of the rink, bravely letting go a hand here, lifting a foot there. All the while, RR#2 watched him circle the rink dreaming of the days when he would be old enough to skate with careless abandon, breeze blowing gently in his face, not a care in the world. At least that’s what I told myself…cos the truth is that most likely RR#2 was staring at RR#1, just willing him to come close enough so he could “set” foot, trip him and wipe the look of pure unadulterated joy off his face (how dare he revel!). And I…well, let’s just say sister-girl still got it, yup. I was a bit shaky at first but then it just came back and off I went rolling into the sunset (well, more like neon lights but you know what I mean). It was so much fun to be out there. Dear hubby totally wants us to start going so he can learn too (which worries me cos…ehem… hubby is not the most coordinated or flexible person on earth). We’ll see though…

Finished up at the roller skating rink around 4:00 and headed out to a picnic being hosted by some of our friends. Ok, can you say "food"? The Plan was out the window without further ado. I chowed on everything from moi-moi, dodo and puff-puff (sorry, you either get it or you don't) to ribs, fried catfish and and bbq chicken. Throw in some macaroni salad, watermelon and corn on the cob and well...you see where this was heading right? By the end of the picnic, I was sated and unremorseful (well at least I stuck to Diet Cokes!). We somehow stumbled into the house around 8ish, gave the RRs a bath and called it a day. Whew!

Sunday, we went to a friends 40th bday party. Just a nice cozy “come-chop” (“come and eat” for my non Naija aficiando’s). The food was dee-lish and of course I ate way too much. The kids frolicked in the pool and it was all round just a really pleasant day to spend a Sunday afternoon (and RR#2 dove face first into the cake, it was hilarious). Towards evening, I broke out my oldies but goodies CD with everything from “Casanova” to “La Isla Bonita” to “Candy” and it was on! We didn’t leave until past 9:00 pm which was not the plan but what can I say..a good time’s a good time. There was one guest who was trying to make me lose my place in the "Good Book", you know the kind who's slightly louder and more obnoxious than the rest (and that's saying something coming from me...lol) but I dusted my shoulder off and let her have her moment (poor thing). Besides my friends are way, super cool and I was not about to bring it all up in their house.

So anyway...all round it was a fun-filled (for the most part), albeit exhausting weekend. Should tide me over for a while...ta.

Plan Update

For those of you that are obsessed with body image as much as I am (and I know there's tons of you out there), thought I'd give you a little update on how The Plan is going.

So I mentioned a while back that I was gonna try out The Plan and I gotta say, it's not that bad. I'm about halfway to my goal and more importantly, I'm not bored or fed up. I swear, you watch all those ads on TV and read all those articles and it just all seems so unreal but...i think there may be something there. And I've cheated too (I always do, I'm such a foodie) but I'm still seeing results. I have this favorite pair of jeans that I loooove and now I have to wear a belt to keep them up (yeah...i think). And it's amazing how much (and badly) I was eating before. I guess the trick will be keeping up the good habits I've learned once I stop The Plan (cos it is breaking a sisters bank!).

Anyway, I plan to debut The Body, October 1. I can't wait to take the after pictures. I'll be in a teeny weeny bikini so I don't know if I'll post them (maybe, if they're really, really hot!).

A hummana-hawmana-ing

Ok, it's been waaayy too long since I posted here but that's because nothing of particular importance has really happened in the last couple of weeks. I mean yeah, there's been a little bit of this and a little bit of that but nothing that really "pops", know what I mean? So instead of boring you with embellished anecdotes, or "a-hummana-hawmana-ing" (to borrow a phrase from my best friend Wendy Williams) about droll everyday occurrences, I have decided to hold my peace. But don't worry when I give it up (I've never been able to hold out for too long, guess I'm just easy like that, lol)...it'll be oh-so-delish, I promise!

Yours in Divahood...(I'm trying out some signature sign outs, let me know which ones you like).

Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii..........

I love my husband. I mean really, really, deep down inside, guts churning, heart thumping, dizzy giddy, make your toes wanna curl, kinda love.

Ok, so you know I recently started The Plan to lose those last pesky baby pounds (yup, he'll be 18 leaving for college, I'll still be blaming the weight on him...lol). So anyway, over the years, I've heard around and about this whole Wii and Wii fit thingy. Y'know, here and there. Sounded great, never paid it much mind until a couple of my NS buddies started really raving about the Wii Fit. They swore it was better than any workout they'd ever done (course that's relative, I've kicked butt in the gym a time ot two myself) and any training they'd ever had (can the Wii really take the place of a hot trainer?). Now, my curiosity began to peak. In my never ending quest for perfection (or my perception of it), I began to really investigate this whole Wii phenomenon. And I must say, I liked what I saw/heard.

Now for those who might not know, a Wii is basically an interactive gaming system by Nintendo, somewhat along the lines of your standard Playstation, X-box etc but the difference is that instead of pressing buttons to play, you have to physically make the motions with your body. So you're basically on your feet, swinging, jumping, whooping and hollering up a storm. It's eerily intuitive and a crapload of fun. I'd heard, I'd seen, I liked and I wanted. Bad, really bad.

So I'm sitting here a-plottin' and a-schemin', trying to figure out how to justify to the hubby (and myself), spending $300-400 on a glorified video game (especially as our Playstation II lay dejectedly cast to the side) when darling hubby that I love, walks in today with not only the Wii, but the Wii Fit too! All this time, when I was just thinking about it, he had seen and knew that I would absolutely love it and he wanted me to have it. Because, he's just amazing like that, this man is, that I love. I could not believe it, it was too surreal. And it wasn't even that I had it, it was more the way in which I got it. I mean, it was almost like he was in my head (kind of like a genie), granting my wishes:

So I'm standing there, alternately screaming at the top of my lungs and smothering him with kisses and he's got his goofy "I done good" grin on. It was too funny. I finally calmed down enough to tell him how I'd been really thinking about getting it and I asked him how he knew. And he said simply "I saw it and I knew you would love it so I bought it". Simple, just like that, no bells no whistles. Wow. I know I'm being a little dramatic about all of this but it's just that, how often do you find someone so in tune with you on every level and sublevel? I am just the luckiest girl in the whole wide world. Really, I am.

We tried it out in the basement, it's fun already. Gonna hook it up to the big screen later...go for that whole HD effect:

BTW, did I mention that I love my husband?

The Plan

So a while back, I told you all I was thinking about starting the NutriSystem plan right? Because after trying every diet plan under the sun known to God and man (yup, and that one too), I finally deduced that I could lose these last 20 pounds if someone would just buy my food, portion it, cook it and hand it to me to eat. Sounds simple right? Well, unfortunately, I couldn't find anyone willing to put their life aside to cater solely to me so I had to look at other options (I know, people right? And they call themselves my friends *rolling eyes*).

Enter NutriSystem. I mean, of course, I've seen the commercials, who hasn't? But do you really pay them any mind? I didn't, not for the longest time. But then, in my neverending search for the perfect body with the least amount of effort, I decided to see what the The Plan was all about. After a bit of research, I was actually pleasantly surprised to find that it was uncomplicated, affordable (relatively) and free of all the bells and whistles that normally accompany such a publicly advertised diet plan. I was intrigued, and then (with $100 in discounts) I was sold.

So I've been on The Plan for 6 weeks and am down an undisclosed number of pounds. I have not been 100% on plan and yet, I have continued the downward trend. I won't bore you with the semantics of it but suffice it to say, you get out what you put in. The plan is simple, easy to follow and i find the food quite palatable. I won't post my numbers here cos I have my good and bad days but I did take before pictures and plan to take after pictures and those I will post.

The food gets delivered every month and there's no contract so you can start and stop when you like. You get breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert and you supplement meals with fruits and veggies. Basically, it teaches you the way that you should eat (which we all know) and teaches you portion sizes (what? you mean I shouldn't eat the whole box of Entenmans in one sitting?).

Here's what the food looks like:

Breakfast

Lunch

Dinner


Dessert

So that's my thing for now. I figure I'll do it for 3-4 months, lose the weight and then hopefully continue the good habits I've learned to maintain my weightloss. We'll see though, we shall see...

Renaissance Woman

Today I was called a Renaissance woman. There were six of us in the room, notepads and pens prepped and ready to begin the arduous task of recording all that would transpire in the next hour. We began with small talk, easy anecdotes, light banter. We were there to brainstorm, but there was no hurry.

Just to backup a bit and give you some perspective, I live in New Jersey, attend graduate school in North Carolina and work in California. All from the comfort of my Park Village Townhome nestled snugly in the sleepy town of Sayreville. Now I do not think this arrangement is unusual, and i certainly didn't plan it, but the needs of today's society and the never ending search for a school-work-life balance had brought me to this point. I truly thought nothing of it and certainly did not view myself as special (although many have openly declared their envy at my ability to work from home).

However, here I was, at a marketing meeting for the NY/NJ AETC HIV/AIDS initiative, fulfilling the 140 hr credit requirement for my PH practicum (i know, acronyms up the wazoo right?) and I had 5 amazing and very accomplished women staring at me as if i had just dropped from Mars (or Venus if you will) as I described to them a day in the life of me. "We need to do an article on you", declared the PR rep. "I would love to run an article on you about today's wo(man) and how they are adapting to today's society." I was actually quite embarrassed by all the attention (yes i was!) but it was made worse when my Preceptor declared "And she has two kids too!" I think I almost fell out! "You are a Renaissance Woman", the PR rep said. "I will be contacting you to do an interview and will run the article in our August issue." I demurely acquiesced.

Look out, Renaissance woman coming through...*blush*.

Lost in the West

I love my heritage. i absolutely love my background and my culture. I do not fully understand much of it but i do know that it is rich, robust and enviable. So why am i suddenly extolling the virtues of my heritage and background? Well it's because i had a "cultural moment" this weekend which got me thinking...am i losing myself in the western culture?

So an old schoolmate of mine came down from Canada for the weekend. She had a wedding to attend in Long Island and wanted me to come along. Now of course, i wasn't too concerned about what I'd wear or how I'd look (I was pretty much just along for the food....lol). I picked a simple, pretty high waisted, A-line, aqua, floral printed, knee length sundress to wear along with some pretty, 2 inch heel, aqua, strappy sandals. It was fun and flirty and summery but elegant enough to wear to a wedding and still look respectable.

Well, the night before, we were up talking and I asked her what she was wearing. So she pulled out this very pretty tailor made green and brown dress and then...the most beautiful green "gele" (headdress) I had seen in a long time. Now a headdress or "gele" is a standard part of any traditional attire, without it, you are incomplete. It is your crowning glory and is expected to be worn as high and as wide as you can possibly manage without putting out the eye of the person sitting next to you (or two rows over).

And i had a whole suitcase of "gele" sitting upstairs in my closet...why hadn't I thought to wear those? Was I so lost in the western culture that it no longer even occurred to me to wear my traditional outfits? Was my "gele" destined to sit in that suitcase, gathering dust and reminiscing about their glory days? Right then and there, I decided that i too would wear traditional and tie "gele" (or do the best I could). As luck would have it, my friend had an extra piece of the headdress allowing us to look like we had matching outfits. I think we looked hot (if i do say so myself):

Cotton candy and dreams fulfilled

Wow, I can't believe it's been a whopping 22 days since i've posted. Of course thanks to all the emails from friendly "wellwishers", I have been constantly reminded that i have not blogged in X number of days...lol.

Ok, so here goes...first things first, i did NOT get to go to the Bravo A-List awards because my nanny flaked on me at the last minute. I'll spare you the gory details but suffice to say that she is still gagged and bound in the tool shed under my basement stairs...we'll deal with her later.

Ok, so moving on, I've been well, things have been well. I am so happy and excited to announce that my girlfriend just graduated from 4 grueling years of OB/GYN residency at UCONN and to celebrate, she threw a big bash for all and sundry. So as yours truly rarely misses an opportunity to shake her "groove thang", we packed up our bags (and the bound nanny) and headed up to Connecticut for the weekend. The party was sooo much fun, the food was dee-lish and i bumped into a couple of friends i had not seen in like - forever. I rocked my brand new "wanna-be-Kimora-fabulous yellow killer wedges" and strutted my stuff like it didn't stank:

The next day, I slept until 12:00pm, it was awesome! So when i finally did meander out of bed, I thought it might be a good idea to actually soak up some of the culture of Connecticut as opposed to only being able to describe landmarks based on their proximity to neon lights.

We found a festival in the Yale area, International Festival of Arts & Ideas and decided to take a gander (i know, i know, i don't know why i used that word either). It was actually very interesting, with different stations exhibiting different forms of art. There was dance and song and miming and actual art pieces. One of the performances was by a Christian Academy dance troupe and it was so beautiful and inspiring:

We also found an African Interpretive Dance, but I've seen the real deal and, believe me, this was NOT it. It was almost comical to watch the spectators impulsively burst into "dance" flailing and flopping around as if in the throes of an epileptic seizure. Oh well, to each his own:

Finally, full of cotton candy and dreams fulfilled, we piled into our minivan and headed back to New Jersey (the nanny was still bound).

Three minutes away

So today was the first day of school for rugrat #2. Yes. My little munchkin has flown the nest (at least for the next 8 hours). He was supposed to start yesterday but has contracted that curious case of the pink eye and so we kept him home for a day just to observe and make sure things were stellar. So I dressed him up, got his lunch all packed, grabbed some extra diappies and a blanket and bundled both rugrats into the car and off to school. After the long tortuous ride (ok, it's actually 3 minutes away), we arrived. He jumped out with glee grabbed his lunchbox and marched excitedly to the door. So i took rugrat #2 to his class seeing as it was his first day and all. He stepped into the classroom and immediately grew deathly silent. He didn't cry, he didn't scream or anything just...silence. Then he turns and looks at me and says "No." Simple, just one single, solitary (albeit loaded) word. I almost lost it and grabbed him and ran but i calmed myself and explained to him that rugrat #1 was just down the hallway and they could meet up at lunch. He wasn't convinced but i reluctantly left him and dropped off rugrat #1 at his class.

So now I'm back home, working and peeking at the empty playroom every now and then. It is so weird...look:

Sigh...i should be relishing the peace and quiet but i tell ya, this is gonna take some getting used to. Maybe I'll go peek in at lunchtime...it's only 3 minutes away, right?

Pink Eye and the Stars...

So, i am just as excited about going to see Sex and the City as the next 30 something yr old chick who's been cruising for a Carrie fix for the last 4 years, right? So I've made my movie date with a girlfriend (the hubby won't be caught dead near a theatre lest he lose his manly "cool points"). I've got my NS snacks on hand to ward off the evil overpriced but oh-so-tasty movie muff (I'll give you background on the term "muff" later), when i wake up to this:



That's right - pink eye or less commonly - conjunctivitis. So Pink Eye and the Stars have aligned and conspired to keep me from seeing [my] world premiere of Sex and the City, The Movie. The hell!! I will be damned if I'll let a little itchy, puffy, redness keep me from watching Carrie (and me in my head) strut her stuff across NYC, marry Big and live happily ever after. Hellllllllll to the nooooooooo. So i will be up in the theater tonight, spreading pink eye to unsuspecting co-theatre goers as i soak up the sights, sounds and escapades of Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha wreaking havoc once again.

THIS JUST IN!!!

Ok, i am so cool. I am Ubercool. Check this out:

What an AMAZING offer we have for you!!
Although you were not one of the first to reply to our Seatfiller offer, we have an even better extra special extra opportunity we can offer you.

This opportunity just came up!!

Based on your request to attend the Bravo A-List Awards, you (and your guest - if you requested two "spots") are confirmed as a RED CARPET VIEWER during the Tim Gunn hosted Red Carpet Pre-Show. You will have the rare opportunity to watch all the star arrivals from our Red Carpet VIP Bleachers.

AND.........Once the Red Carpet Pre-Show is over, you will still be admitted into the venue to fill empty seats in our orchestra and mezz sections, and enjoy the entire "Bravo A-List Awards".

AND.........25 lucky attendees will be chosen to walk the red carpet with the stars!!

Your name will be on our list upon arrival. Please bring a form of ID with you. You must be at least 21 years old.

Bravo is dedicated to celebrating the creative process and showcasing some of the leading creative minds working today, and as the only channel to include virtually every popular field of the arts - beauty, design, fashion, food and pop culture - it's the most logical home for an event that celebrates these disciplines. "My Life on the D-List" star Kathy Griffin hosts Bravo's first ever "A-List Awards" honoring those people that have made an indelible mark in the arts, with a special star-studded red carpet pre-show hosted by Tim Gunn.

If you can no longer attend, please let us know asap. Also, if you received your own confirmation, but are going as the guest of someone else, please let us know. By helping us keep an accurate headcount, we can help our seatfillers by not having to overbook in the future.

Arrival Time: 5:00pm (late comers will not be admitted)

Date: June 4, 2008
Venue: The Hammerstein Ballroom in the Manhattan Center, 311 West 34th Street.
Red Carpet Pre-Show: 6:00pm-7:30pm
Show Time: 7:30pm-10pmDress Code: Nice Casual expected. no shorts/tshirts (strictly enforced).

Once you arrive at the event, you will NOT be allowed to leave and come back, and there will NOT be food available (plan accordingly). Also, NO camera's allowed. Bring as little with you as possible. We are not responsible for lost or stolen items and there will NOT be a place to check belongings.

Reminder - if you can't make it, please do us the courtesy and let us know asap.Thanks again, and have a great time!www.TVaudiences.tv

I am pulling out all the Diva stops for this one so watch out, shoot I might even take over from Tim Gunn for a hot second...lol. You know i'll fill you in on all the juicy details and loads of pics so stay tuned...

East Coast to East Coast

And we're back...what a weekend. From NY to CT to NJ all in the space of 4 days. So we set out Saturday evening for an event that was supposed to start at 8:00pm, got there at 10:00pm, didn't actually start until 1:00am. I mean, what planet do these people actually live on? Is there some new time zone of which the rest of the world is unaware? How do you roll up for an event at one in the morning, all decked out in your finery and ready to boogie down? I mean isn't this taking fashionably late to a whole new level?? It was almost comical, to watch people sauntering in as i laid my kids out on the blanket i had judiciously brought along (i guess i knew on some level). And to make matters worse, they called us up on to the high table! Really? At 2:00 in the morning? For those that don't know, at such events, the high table is reserved for the most prestigious and highly honored guests (believe me, I'm rolling my eyes too) - translation - "we're gonna put you in the limelight so you have to donate a big fat, whopping sum of money to our cause". Ha, but they didn't factor in my husbands savvy announcement "The Ibe family will donate an undisclosed amount to the ---- Foundation" So there! We'll see your high table, and raise you 1...lol. Anyway, we hightailed it out of there in record time and headed straight for CT.

Yale graduation was...interesting. Deans Tea on Sunday (just as stuffy and pretentious and boring as it sounds). Monday morning was general graduation. We stood in line watching all the graduates go by, i missed my husband but guess who walked right by me? Paul McCartney. That's right as i live and breath i was within touching distance of a Beetle. Yup...(let's let that marinate for a minute...). Ok, so fast forward to the ceremony which was crowded and hot and still pretentious (can these people please get over themselves? This was like the 307th commencement!). Paul got an honorary Doctorate in Music and a bunch of other important people got honorary degrees in important stuff too (eloquent right? I know...lol).

The back of Sir Paul McCartney's head

EPH graduation was in the afternoon, that was a bit better and less crowded and actually kinda cool. It started to hit me that hubby was graduating from a pretty cool school with a pretty cool degree and would most likely do some pretty cool stuff in the future. Cool.

Hubby

The Clan

We headed out to NJ last night and got in around 9:00pm. Needless to say i was dead tired. We picked up the nanny (thank God) and I handed the kids over and went straight to bed (hey, no judging!). All in all, it was a great weekend. Tata...

Quickie...

Just wanted to let you know i've got quite a busy weekend ahead what with Memorial day and all. So tomorrow, we're headed up to New York for an annual fundraiser held by my husband's hometown people (don't ask). It's super fun and there is always so much good food to eat (hey i haven't started the Nutrisytem plan yet...don't judge me). Then we're off to Connecticut for my husband's graduation at Yale (yeah i said it, i put it out there, i'm a name dropper...so?). We'll probably hang out in CT or go back and spend the day in NY...either way...i'll fill you in when i get back and hopefully have some really cool pictures to post as well. Ok, nightie night.

Weighty Issues

Ok, so to know me is to love me right? And to love me is to embrace all that i am, good and bad right? Cool.
Ok, so basically, i have weight issues. Surprised? Probably not. I'm sure I'm right up there with the other 97% of women who have body image issues (nevermind the other 3% who are still in denial). So i have probably spent the better half of my adult weight obsessing about my weight. High or low. Skinny or fat. Thick or thin. I just cannot escape this morbid fascination. Now, it used to be cute cos even though i obsessed, i was a pretty decent sz 8ish, not bad in real people world right? However, with the advent of not one but two little rugrats, i have slowly emerged from the "Oh, please you are not fat!" realm, into the "Oh please, you look great for having had two kids" realm. And i haaaaate that realm, i really, really, really-face all srunched up-flat out on my tummy-fists balled up-pounding the floor-legs kicking in an all out tantrum-hate it kind of way! Whew...deep breaths.

Anyyywayyy...i have resolved to finally get up off my fat arse and actually DO something about it. As opposed to exercising like a fiend for a week straight and living off of carrot sticks and air and then weighing myself and finding out that i gained a pound and giving up and scarfing down a box of Entenmans followed by a half (ok, whole) pint of Ben & Jerry's and then hating myself and starting the whole crazy viscious cycle all over again...i have discovered Nutrisystem. i don't know if it'll work or not, i don't know if i'll even be able to stand the food, and i don't know if i'll be back on a month from now curled up in the fetal position blubbereing next to my box of Entenmans but dammit, it's worth a shot. I'm really psyched about the plan and am gonna post some before and after pictures and chronicle my weight loss (think positive) here along with the mess of everything else that is my life. Stay tuned...

Grey's Rocks My Anatomy...

Ok, before i go to bed OMG!!! Please tell me you caugh the 2-hr season finale of Grey's Anatomy. Was that insane or what??? Ok, spoiler alert, stop here if you don't want to know what happened.....
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Ok, ok sooooo Derek and Mer back together again (poor Rose but she knew she was borrowing Derek the whole while), thc Chief and his wife? CALI and HAHN??? WTF? Ok, i know a million ??? but the drama is insane! And i will slap little Lexi Grey's face if she thinks she's going to start something with George...Oh and how pathetic was Karev? I mean, really, how many times does Izzy have to reject you dude? Ok, and yes, the whole Mer and Der thing was cheesy, what with the lights and glasses (where did the glasses come from, his trailer??) but i loooooved it nonetheless. Ooooh, the season finale was de-lish! And yes, the actual medical parts of the show were not half bad either...lol. *sigh* so i am stuck all summer, mulling and reflecting on the season and patiently awaiting September (i get all tingly just thinking about it *shiver*).

Hodgepodge Ramblings

Hi welcome to the hodgepodge ramblings of a somewhat self-involved diva who has decided that maybe her life is the next great american novella...or something. I never cease to be amazed at the things i encounter, go through, overcome, succeed, or fail at in life and I'm sure you won't be either. I hope you'll stay and journey with me for a while, maybe find out that your life isn't really that crazy afterall (or maybe certify that it is!). Either way, i promise you will not be bored. Check in every once in a while, see what's new, feel free to co-sign or certify me...ciao.