I made some new assessments about Nanny while on this trip.  She is definitely getting older, and she is definitely getting more and more ornery.  In fact, she’s starting to remind me a little bit of this woman, scowl and all:

Now don’t get me wrong.  My grandmother is a very caring and generous woman.  She would give you the shirt off her back if her back didn’t hurt her so much.  But let me just warn you, if you are a waiter or waitress, and you don’t give her piping hot coffee or butter for her bread, she’ll turn on you like a rabid beast.  Case in point:

On our drive back from Florida, I was so sleepy and was desperate for a double-espresso latte from Starbucks.  Now, my grandmother is from the old school of coffee (Maxwell House, Folgers, etc.), and she won’t have anything to do with what she calls the “stinky” coffee that Starbucks serves.  So, I knew that I was setting myself up for something big when I pulled off the expressway to order my latte.

We decided to go into the shop to use the restroom and sit for a minute while I waited on my drink.  My grandmother used the restroom first, and I went in after her.  When I stepped out of the restroom, I find Nanny yelling (because she is deaf and thinks everyone else is, too) at the male barista behind the counter.  I walked up to the counter, and here is what went down.

Nanny (to me in her loud, ornery voice): He said that they have decaf coffee and it’s not the smelly kind.  I think I’ll order a cup.

Me (in my loud voice so that she and everyone in the shop can hear): Nanny, you told me that you’ve ordered coffee from here before and you don’t like it.

Nanny: Well, he said it wasn’t the stinky kind!

Me: I know, but I really don’t think you’ll like it.  It’s a bit different from what you’re used to.

Nanny: Well, order me a cup anyway.

So, I place the order.  The barista hands Nanny the cup of coffee, and I walk over to the other side of the counter to wait for my latte.  When I turned around, I caught her out of the corner of my eye taking a sip of her coffee.  People?  See that picture up there of Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies?  That’s exactly how Nanny looked when she pulled the coffee cup away from her mouth.  Then, she took another sip.  Same look.

Three people are now in line, and one person is ordering.  Nanny marches up to the counter, completely interrupting the person ordering their coffee, and says loudly and with a scowl:

Nanny: Is this coffee fresh?

Barista: Yes, ma’am. It’s fresh.

Nanny: Well, it don’t taste fresh to me!  (She takes another sip.)  Blech!

Barista: I can make another pot, ma’am.

Nanny: Ah, shhht.  We don’t got no time!

She then proceeds to make her way to the trash can, takes one more sip, and throws it away while scowling and saying “shhht!” again.  Thankfully, I am far away from the scene and hidden from her sight.  When we get back into the car, she starts again.

Nanny: Is your coffee fresh?  Mine wasn’t!  Bleh, bleh, bleh!  I need a piece of gum.

Me: Nanny, I told you that you wouldn’t like it.

Nanny: Well, he told me it wasn’t the stinky kind!  I don’t think he knows what he was ‘a talkin’ about.

My dear, dear grandmother.  You just can’t take her anywhere.

However, let it be known that I feel a bit hypocritical writing about beauty.  And I’m not talking about the kind of beauty you associate with landscapes, butterflies, children, or even inner beauty.  I’m talking about the kind of beauty that Hollywood and the glamour magazines sell.  The kind of beauty that is for the most part unattainable and artificial.  And why do I feel hypocritical writing about this topic?  Well, maybe because over the years I’ve been silly enough to buy the fool’s gold.

Sadly, I have spent countless, hard-earned dollars on hair products that promise to make my hair sleek and sexy, makeup that guarantees a flawless complexion, exercise equipment that will magically flatten my stomach, and countless diet books (I can think of 7 in my bookcase at the moment) that promise I will lose 30 pounds in one month without even working out.  Basically, I am a slave to beauty.  More accurately, I am a slave to the false image of beauty.

You see, I grew up in the 80s at a time when the Cindy Crawfords and Christy Brinkleys were taking the world by storm.  As a teenager, I spent hours paging through Teen Magazine and Seventeen searching for the trade secrets to make me look like the fresh-faced, carefree models splattered across the glossy pages.  (Hey, wasn’t I fresh-faced and carefree at 13?)  Apparently, all I had to do was buy the products and clothes that the models were touting, and I could be them.  I could have the perfect body, the long, flowing hair, a beautiful smile, and a gorgeous boyfriend.  Hollywood was selling it, and my self-esteem was paying a dear price for it. 

And I wonder why I was so consumed with trying to attain this image of beauty that these models were projecting?  And why do I find myself, at 36, occasionally slipping back into that old persona?  Logically, I know the difference between real beauty and Hollywood’s image of beauty.  But irrationally, I still struggle with a negative body image and the quest for perfect hair.  And a great fitting pair of Calvin Kleins.  Brooke Shields
looks(ed) good in them; why can’t I?

Anyhow, I’ve come across a couple of items that I would like to share with you that touches on the warped image of beauty that is sold to women every day. 

This particular item may be old news to some of you, but it’s worth mentioning again.  And again.  The Campaign for Real Beauty by Dove targets young girls and women of all ages, letting them know that normal is the new beautiful.  Click here to read an enlightening article about the percentage of women (based on a study by Dove) who describe themselves as beautiful.  And click here to learn more about this awesome campaign.

And if you’ve never seen the following short clip by Dove about what it really  takes to get model-glam looks, you must take a gander…

Click here to view the embedded video.

And if you’re as frustrated with your hair as I constantly am with mine, click here and view the short clip, “Uncover the Truth Behind Hollywood Hair.”  Actually, I’m guilty of using some of those Hollywood hair techniques (i.e. torching my hair daily with a blow-dryer and straightener).  GR warns me that I will one day be bald if I continue.

Also, my SIL—Big H—sent me a link to iWanexStudio—a professional photo retouching service.  On this site, you can view before and after photos of their celebrity clients.  You’ll see the magic that Adobe Photoshop can wield on these “naturally beautiful” Hollywood celebs.  It makes me feel good all over just to see it.  Follow these steps…

1. Go to http://www.iwanexstudio.com/.
2. At the top of the page click Portfolio.
3. At the bottom of the Portfolio page, click on a thumbnail picture to enlarge it.
4. To toggle between the before and after shot, hover your mouse over the picture, and then move it away from the picture.
5. Click on the picture again when you are ready to close it.

I also recommend checking out this post, Smart Girls are the New Black, by Madame Queen.  She talks about Danika McKellar’s (Winnie Cooper of The Wonder Years fame) new book, Math Doesn’t Suck: How to Survive Middle School Math Without Losing Your Mind or Breaking a Nail.  Madame Queen also offers her insight into the image that Hollywood should be projecting to young girls today.  (Oh, and while you’re there, you must check out her young son, Bubba, in his baby Elvis costume.  It’s a hoot!)

I’m feeling so much better now.

And lastly, if you’re looking for some spirited and eye-opening reading about “fat acceptance,” go check out Kate Harding’s blog, Shapely Prose.  She would nevah accept me as a commenter on her post because I’m a fanatic about my weight (remember? I have a negative body image?), but this girl is a scream.  And maybe a little angry.  But she definitely has a handle on the whole body image thing.

Now, to wrap this up, I want to task all of you women with finding the nearest chalkboard and writing the following phrase one-hundred times.  Move it, girls!  It’s great therapy…

And now, I must go eat my allotment of 7 almonds.  Have a great weekend, y’all!

The Great Pollen Bowl of 2007 has ravaged Atlanta, and I’m thinking that the city and surrounding suburbs need to be declared a disaster area.  We are covered in a blanket of yellow, and I can take it no longer.  So, I am writing an official letter to the President for relief funds.  And here it is…

I think that pretty much covers it.  Don’t you?

However, the Atlanta Allergy & Asthma Clinic states that it’s not the yellow pine pollen that causes all of the allergy problems, it’s the oak pollen.  Well, you could have fooled me, because just looking at the yellow pollen?  Makes me cough.  And for those of you not living in the Atlanta area, be thankful, because here’s the pollen count for the past several days.  Notice that Thursday’s pollen count was a mere 5937…<ah-choo!>

And, just in case you don’t believe how bad it really is, see it for your own eyes, y’all…

Pollen on my patio

Pollen on my car

Pollen on my dog

And, because my brain, nostrils, and lungs are completely filled with pollen causing me to be dizzy and disoriented, I declare that Mother Nature is my candidate for Women are Fantastic Friday.  I know, I know.  Mother Nature is not a real woman nor is she worthy of Fantastic Friday with all of this pollen floating around like snow.  Did I not just say that I was dizzy and disoriented, people?  But, I must say that she is ushering in the warmer weather, and for that I am grateful. 

Have a happy Friday, y’all!  And stay inside.

Image Sources:
Make your own card: http://www.blyberg.net/2006/09/06/roll-your-own-catalog-card/
Pollen count: http://remote.atlantaallergy.com/pollencount/

Anyhoo, let me just share with you non-bloggers a little secret.  This is part of my ’splainin, so just hang in there.  Because I am the writer and moderator of my blog (duh, right?), I get to view my blog stats, and I also get to delete any comments that I warrant evil or disturbing.  Not that I get any of those.  So, blog stats show how many hits my site gets each day, if a link to my blog was clicked from someone else’s blog, if I’m referenced in someone else’s blog, and if my site was found via an Internet search. 

Stick with me people, because today?  My site was stumbled upon by someone (pervert!) via an Internet search.  And do you want to know what the search was for?  Prepare yourselves, because here it is in all its glory…

“did lulu have a boob job done” 

Uh hum.  And here it is for your own eyes…

Now normally I would be like, huh?  Wha?  But because I am a fan of American Idol (it’s a sick obsession I cannot overcome), I know that Lulu, a 1960s British Invasion singer, performed on American Idol Wednesday night.  And let me just say that if I look like that when I’m pushing 60, I’ll be pretty damned pleased with myself.  So, obviously someone (pervert!) was searching to find out if Lulu’s “girls,” which were fairly exposed that night I might add, are in fact real.  So, now I’m deeply troubled that the person who took the time to search on ”did lulu have a boob job done,” actually clicked on to my site, looking to find his (or maybe her?) information.  All that I can say is, sorry, sicko.  Move along.  No boobs to be seen here.  But the pictures of GR might be worth taking a gander at.

Okay, so now that I’ve mentioned boobs in this post umpteen-hundred times, I can only imagine the type of traffic that I’m going to end up getting today.  Hmm…strange, creepy men scouring my site?  Maybe the title wasn’t such a grand idea.

But, since we are on the subject of boobs, I just want to remind you that today is Women Are Fantastic Friday!  Woo-hoo!  Sophie is shrinking in her seat right now, I just know it.  I’m telling you, Soph, today might just be the day that you remove my link from your blogroll!  I’m just saying…

So, I have several victims candidates for today’s meme.  And here they all are…

So, just who are all of these girls?  Well, they’re my extended family of aunts and cousins (along with my mom, sister, niece, and grandmother).  A lot of estrogen in one room, huh?  Actually, four of my cousins, also girls, are missing from this picture.  And in the distance I hear someone asking, “So, are there any boys in the family?”  To which I answer, no.  We’ve been knocking them off one by one for years now. 

Okay, not really; however, it was once mentioned to me by a friend that if she had this many family members, she would have to start knocking some off.  And I did feel like that, oh, about two months ago when I was trying to organize and coordinate a cruise for 10 of us girls (see I told you that Lulu is a coordinator…).   

So, the 10 of us (2 aunts, my mother, my sister, and 5 cousins) are all going on a cruise in June, right after Gus graduates from high school.  You see, quite a few of Gus’s friends are going on this same cruise (yes, with parents), and he wanted to go, too.  However, Mama Lulu is not exactly ready to turn her 17-year old son loose on a cruise boat filled with debauchery and good times without me going along to fret over the debauchery and good times.  Because said son is an angel, and has never been subjected to such immorality. 

So, I told him that the only way that he could go is that if I (and nine of his “girl” relatives, which includes his grandmother) could go along.  Could I possibly impose any more humiliation upon a 17-year old young man?  Anyway, he’s got another friend going along with him, and I booked a cabin for them far, far away from mine, so all is good.   And it will all be grand fun.  And maybe a bit chaotic.

But anyway, as you can see from the picture, we’re all very smooshy and close, and I’m not quite sure what I would do without all of them in my life.  My mother has one sister and three brothers, and between them all, they have 12 children and 7 grandchildren (of which only 4 are boys).  We’ve all pretty much grown up together–some of us taking vacations together, the occasional girl’s night out, holidays, birthdays, graduations (because there seems to be one every couple of years now), weddings, one particular bachelorette party during Octoberfest, and the list could just go on and on.

They are all fantastic in their own little way, and I love them all.

Happy Friday, y’all!  Oh, and I promise to have a new Lulu Wants to Know poll up at some point this weekend.  And I swear that it won’t be, “Did Lulu Have a Boob Job Done?”

Anyhow, I proclaim that my bulking up months are over!  Over I say!  However, I do not like to jog.  But I need to get in shape for the 5K Race for the Cure that I’m doing in May.  And yes, 5 kilometers is only like 3 miles, but I am hideously out of shape.  And did I not just previously state that I am sadistic?  And I’m really itching at the chance to collapse on the streets of Atlanta in a pool of sweat and Diet Coke (because that’s what runs through my veins).

So, this is why I’ve recruited my friend and co-worker (of 13 years no less!), Deb, to teach me how to jog.  I know, I know…one foot in front of the other.  Duh.  But Deb is crazy into the jog/run scene, and this is also why I’m featuring her in my “Women are Fantastic” Friday post!  Woo-hoo!  She’s pleased, I’m sure. 

Deb ran her first marathon at 46 years old and has been a member of the Galloway Marathon Training program since 2001.  With this program, she has been a group leader for 2 years, and she leads two different groups–one on Monday and Wednesday nights for beginner runners (the program is aptly called Getting Started), and one on Sunday mornings for the marathon program group.  Not to mention that she runs for fun every morning–rain or shine.  She’s a dedicated gal!  And I’ve still yet to figure out how she works a full-time job with all this running business.  Personally, I would be slumped over my desk.

And following is a picture of Deb and me that was taken probably around 1997-ish.  Wait a minute!  That was 10 years ago.  My, my…how we have changed.  Oh, and please disregard our attire.  At the time, our office had a very strict dress-code policy.  Only shorts, slouchy t-shirts, and tennis shoes were allowed.  And bangs.

As a group leader with Galloway, Deb is responsible for leading the group, meaning she helps pace the runners to a specific running pace, gets them through the run, answers any questions they have, puts water out on the route, and makes sure that the runners are marathon-ready by the end of the season.  Now mind you, I am not, I say NOT, training for a marathon.  Did you get that Deb?  So don’t get all crazy on me.  I may be sadistic, but I do know my limitations.  

Deb says that 26 miles, which is the length of a marathon for you non-runners (tee-hee…I said you non-runners, you know, like I’m a runner or something now), is a long way and it takes as much mental fortitude as it does physical ability.  You just never know how you are going to feel after 20 miles–and then you still have 6 more to go!  The Galloway method uses walk break intervals, so you don’t just get up and run 26 miles–you walk on regular, scheduled intervals. 

And that is how Deb is training me–in intervals.  We walk for 20 minutes and then we run for 2 minutes.  At this pace, I’ll be ready to run a 5K in 2009.  Just kidding, people!  She has actually started me out walking one minute, jogging 30 seconds, repeat, repeat, etc. until I collapse.  And once I have that pace mastered, I’ll move up to intervals of something like walking one minute then jogging one minute.  So, hopefully before May, I will be able to jog a mile, walk for a few minutes, jog a mile, walk for a few minutes, then jog another mile.  Pretty lofty goal, huh?  Like I said people…a pool of sweat and Diet Coke.

So, let me just run down the impressive list of marathons that my jogging mentor has completed. 

• Marine Corp in D.C. (4 times!  Show-off.)
• Vancouver
• Country Music in Nashville
• Boston
• Chicago
• Virginia Beach
• Disney
• Tybee Island
• 10K in Munich, Germany (while she was on freaking vacation…Deb, we need to have a talk)
• *Upcoming* ING Georgia in March
• *Upcoming* Edinburgh, Scotland in May  (again, we need to talk)

Anyhow, Deb will be kicking my butt all over the streets of the business park where we work.  On our lunch hour.  When I should be eating Cheetos.  (And don’t worry – we have a shower/locker room at our office.  We don’t go back to work all sweaty!)  Thank you, Deb!  You are my hero. 

Oh, and let me just leave you with this little quote that Deb likes to throw around…

At mile 20 I thought I was dead; at mile 22 I wished I was dead; at mile 24 I knew I was dead; at mile 26.2 I realized I had become too tough to kill.  –Unknown

Well, Deb, I’m glad that you are too tough to kill.  Because, my favorite quote is… 

I believe that the Good Lord gave us a finite number of heartbeats and I’m damned if I’m going to use up mine running up and down a street.  –Neil Armstrong

Deb?  I didn’t say it.  I’m only quoting.

Happy Friday, y’all!

Luckily, Sarah was blessed with a full life.  She married her high school sweetheart, Pat, shortly before she finished college and he finished Flight School.  After first being stationed in Cheyenne, Wyoming for three years, Pat was relocated to Germany where they spent the following three years.  While living in Germany, they had the wonderful opportunity to travel extensively throughout Europe.

After Pat’s stint in Germany, they relocated back to the U. S. and eventually ended up in the Pensacola, Florida area (near Pat’s family).  It was there that Sarah gave birth to both of her children—a son and a daughter.

Sarah was truly a kind and gentle soul.  She had a deep faith in God, loved her family tremendously, and was an incredibly patient and giving mother.  She also loved to bake, and she made THE best chocolate chip cookies ever!  She was fully supportive of her husband’s Air Force career that often times took him away from the family.  In fact, soon after their daughter was born, Pat was deployed to Korea for a year, leaving Sarah to take care of the two children and their home on her own.  It was shortly after Pat returned from Korea, in April 2000, when Sarah was diagnosed with breast cancer—not even three years after the birth their youngest child.

Finally, in February 2001, after eight rounds of chemo and a mastectomy, Sarah was given a clean bill of health.  She and her family and friends were elated.  At this same time, Pat accepted an offer to become an Air Force commander, and they started planning a move to New Mexico.  Sarah was very excited to be starting over.  She was free of cancer and would be making a fresh start.  And she had plans to get involved with helping other people who were facing the pain and suffering of cancer.

However, shortly before they were scheduled to move in May 2001, Sarah came down with a chest cold, which became bad enough to warrant a trip to the doctor.  Sadly, the doctor found that she had a collapsed lung and that the cancer had spread.  After many months of struggling with this illness, she passed away in February 2002. 

I understand that there are many people who can share this same type of tragic story.  Cancer affects the lives of so many people—it’s the second leading cause of death in the U. S.  In 2007, the American Cancer Society estimates that 678,060 women are expected to die of cancer.  And of that number, 26% will die of breast cancer.

So, in memory of Sarah, I will be running (well, walking, because I am hideously out of shape!) in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure on Saturday, May 12 in Atlanta.  I will join Phoo, Big H, and Mama Claire (Big H’s mother) in this fundraising and awareness event for breast cancer.  And if you are interested in making a donation to help fight this disease, please click the Race for the Cure link here or on my sidebar.  It will take you directly to my fundraiser page, and if you wish, you can donate anonymously or openly, and in memory of or in honor of someone you know that has been affected by cancer.  Please have a safe and happy Friday, y’all!

That being said, I’ve started a new poll this week.  Yes, I can hear the collective groan.  And in honor of Spay Day USA, the question is about pets.  Kind of.  So, like before, go to the Lulu Wants to Know page, and humor me people! 

So, there’s a couple of things that I want to share today.  First off, it’s Friday! Cheer! Day!  Woo-hoo for that!  Also, remember the whole story about us getting hardwood?  Luckily, GR did not change his mind, and Mr. Hardwood delivered the wood for our floors on Wednesday.  And now, as you can see from the following picture, all of the wood is sitting in my dining room floor, camping out there until next week when Mr. Hardwood comes back to install it.  And it’s bothering me.  Because it stinks and the dogs keep barking at it.

And please note that my dining room floor normally does not look like that.  Even though it appears so in this picture, we do not cover our floor in sawdust and allow people to toss peanut shells on it, because GR would really, really like that.  We decided to put hardwood in the dining room and office as well, so GR had to pull up the carpet.  And thank God for that, because…Eww.  Germs.  And icky puppy stuff.  I think we’ll have to do something with the living room floor next.

And last but not least, I want to recognize my mother in honor of Women are Fantastic Friday.  My mother is fantastic for many reasons, but the one thing that stands out most about her is her love of family.  If she has taught me anything in life, she has taught me the importance of staying connected with family members.  Thirteen years ago, her husband was transferred to Florida, and she moved away from her family for the first time in her life.  Although people do that kind of thing every day, it was a very difficult transition for her.  And even though she is only an 8 hour drive from her home in Georgia, she sometimes feels like it’s halfway across the world.  However, she and I talk every day, and she stays in contact with my sister and our many other family members in Georgia on a constant basis.  She squeezes in visits to Georgia several times a year, and GR, Gus, and I have a lovely place to vacation at the home she shares with her husband and my step-brother…close to the beach!  Where the BD&HR Tour takes place…but that’s another story for another day.

Through my mother, I have also learned the value of patience, tolerance, and forgiveness.  Did I mention tolerance?  Because thank God I have a boatload of that!  Anyway, she’s a sweet, caring mother, and I want to share with you a card that I made for her when I was about 9 years old.  The sentiment still rings true!  Even though the image is a bit blurry…

How’d you like that definition for “O?”  Rather ingenious, huh?  Nothing like telling your mother she’s growing old.  And not only that she’s getting old, but getting old as in—no one else in the world is growing older, just you.  Isn’t that sweet?  And now she’s really going to think I’m sweet, because I’m going to share a picture of her, my sister (mother of Sweet Pea), and me in 1970-something.  I’m the short one on the right.

And here’s a more current picture of my mother and me…(no, we’re not hunchback…it’s just the angle).  Oh, and check out my rockin’ Go-Go’s shirt…courtesy of Big H!

What a lucky girl I am!  Happy Friday, y’all!

Guess what else?  It’s Friday! Cheer! Day!  As you know, one of my most favorite days of the week.  And today, I’ve been tagged with a meme.  I’m talking about an honest-to-goodness MEME, people.  And if you’re dazed and confused and want to know what a meme is, just click the We Can Do It! badge below.  It will take you to my friend Sophie’s site at A Hole in the Fence, and she’ll explain everything about her “Women are Fantastic” Fridays meme. 

And while you’re there, you really should check out her blog.  She’s an amazing writer and shares some great stories.  Hmm…I can feel her stealing away my readers by the truckload now (wait…do I actually have readers?  hello?).

Anyway, the Fantastic Friday woman that I am featuring today is Gus’s great-grandmother, Nonnie.  First off, I’d like to say how lucky Gus is to not only have grandparents that dote upon him, but a great-grandmother?  Well, she’s an added bonus in his life.  Throughout his life, she has selflessly given him the time, love, help, and support of a thousand grandmothers, and she claims that he’s half hers.  

I could write countless words about all of the sacrifices that she has made not only for Gus, but for many other people in her life.  But, I’ll save that for another day.  For now, I think that this picture pretty much sums up anything more I could say. 

Happy Friday, y’all!