My hat goes off to Valerie Bertinelli for standing up for traditional marriage on The View last week.  Barbara Walters revealed that actress Mo’Nique in her pre-Oscar interview told her that she and husband Sidney Hicks have an “open marriage.”  Joy Behar mumbled something about someone being there as important and Sherri Shepherd brought up the fact that Valerie was married to a rock star.  “Open marriage. Shmopen marriage!” announced Bertinelli.  You go girl!   

Mo’Nique continues the interview with Walters by saying, “[sex outside the marriage] That’s not a deal breaker. That’s not something that we would say, ‘Oh my God because you were attracted to another person and because you happened to have sex let’s end the marriage.’”  Happened to have sex???  Is that like you ‘happened to forget milk at the corner store?’ or ‘please pass the salt?’ 

What about sex as an expression of a couple’s love?  You can buy a lot of vibrating products if you’re only interested in the ‘pleasure zone’.  Shouldn’t sex be a special gift that you only share with each other?  Naïve?  Perhaps. 

In a 1998 interview in Psychology Today, Dr. Shirley Glass says, “In this collegial world where we work together, you have to conduct yourself by being aware of appropriate boundaries, by not creating opportunities, particularly at a time when you might be vulnerable.”  The article was written around the time President Clinton allegedly ‘just happened to have sex’ with Monica Lewinsky.  Dr. Glass’ interview, Shattered Vows: Getting Beyond Betrayal is definitely worth the read. 

Deep down in the recesses of Mo’Nique’s mind I wonder if she really believes it’s ok for her husband to have sex with someone else?  I guess only Mo’Nique knows for sure.  How do you feel about “open marriage?”  Share your thoughts.

I’ve lost ten pounds!!!  My first weight loss milestone folks!  I’ve encountered a few bumps in the road here and there but haven’t devoured a whole chocolate cake or anything (not that it hasn’t crossed mind)!  I wanted to share a few observations I’ve made about myself and my “rebirth” as a woman with healthy eating habits.

1. My ability to smell food is amazing.  I can identify the brand of peanut butter on a person’s toast three tables over at my favourite breakfast hangout.
2. I’ve had to sit on my hands to stop them from helping themselves to some stranger’s New York fries smothered in gravy at a neighbouring table.
3. I’m ready to boycott my gym.  Located on the second floor of a major  supermarket chain, the aroma of those hot greasy chickens roasting at the deli counter permeating the gym walls is completely unacceptable.
4. The Food Channel should be outlawed at the gym.  I’d like a word with the masochist that makes us watch Anna Olsen slowly drizzling hot melted chocolate onto an awaiting fluffy New York cheesecake as we grunt away on the treadmill.
5. Pouring wine into a measuring cup and then into a wine glass kills “the mood.”
6. And finally, snacking on microwave popcorn without butter is like chewing on wood.  You can chew it till it’s pulverized and you’re still left with splinters of dry kernels in your teeth.

Anyone have any insight to share?  Love to hear your comments.

We’ve all digested the sorted details of Tiger Woods and his famous flings and watched the media’s OJ Simpson style stalking of Woods’ house on national TV.  And just when we thought all the perpetrators had crawled back under their rocks, Tiger Woods resurfaces decked out in his Nike duds interrupting our TV viewing pleasure with a “Special News Report.” 

To me, when a network cuts into a show in progress with a Special Report it means somethin’ big is comin’ down.  Like the country’s being invaded or a world leader has been gunned down.  Something important to our safety.  But Tiger Woods apologizing for his sorted indiscretions?  Have we fallen and banged our heads on something!!!

If a network wants to advertise or announce during a commercial break that they’ve scored an exclusive interview with Tiger Woods that’s fine but what’s the criteria for “news” these days?  What if Tiger Woods had come clean in a press conference apologizing for his infidelity well BEFORE his bed mates exposed him to the media?  Now that would have been news! 

Somebody told me once, “Never do anything you don’t want anyone else to know.”  The minute he closed that bedroom door…essentially he was busted.  The mere fact that he was even there was a deal breaker!  The icing on the cake for me was his confession to being in “rehab.”  Rehab for what?  Reportedly “sex addicition.”  Sex addiction???  I have to agree with a guy on The View’s “YouTube” segment of the show that said, “He got caught.  That’s a guy’s view.” 

Care to share your “views?”  I’d love to hear them.

I’m infuriated at these guys!  If I hear, “I’m sorry I never meant to hurt anyone” one more time I’m going to vomit.  They hurt everyone but most of all their wives!  Jenny left South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford while Elizabeth withstood a turbulent “public scrutiny ride” with former Senator John Edwards. She’s recently left the marriage.  Gayle has stuck by her husband, former evangelist Ted Haggard. 

What makes these guys tick?  A lot of women can hardly get their husbands to make the trek upstairs to the bedroom let alone fly halfway around the world.  According to a recent article by Jeanna Bryner, Managing Editor at LiveScience.com, “A serious occupational hazard of being a celebrity is arrogance, to think you are better than the next guy, special, entitled, above common issues,” explains Joel Block, a psychologist specializing in love, relationships and sexuality.  I can think of a different word starting with “a” and ending with “s” to describe these guys.

In the same article, Lawrence Josephs, a clinical psychologist at Adelphi University in New York says, “People don’t necessarily practice what they preach.  It’s not clear to what extent people’s ethical values are actually running what they do or don’t do.”  Ask Ted Haggard. 

These women need our support, not our judgment.  Jenny Sanford’s new book, Staying True and Gayle Haggard’s  book, Why I Stayed: The Choices I Made in My Darkest Hour are on my reading list.  I’d like to get to know these women better. Read them along with me.  I’ll let you know when I’m starting the first book.

Leave your comments.  I’d love to hear them.

 
Sometimes we assume that when people get to a certain age they aren’t as competent as they used to be.  Unfair folks, but true.  That’s the furthest from the truth with my mom.  At 76, she’s as sharp as a tack.  A very sharp tack.  Last week my beautiful mother had emergency abdominal surgery.  Her angry appendix burst just as the surgeon was removing it.  “A bit mucky,” he muttered describing her festered appendix.  

And with surgery comes an endless array of pretty coloured pills and capsules.  So when my mom counted the pills in the little plastic cup that the nurse brought to her, she raised her eyebrows.
“There’s too many.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“The pills.”
“It’s your medication,” the nurse replied.
“What are they?”
Sighing the nurse showed her each individual pill.
“These two are antibiotics, this is Digoxin and this one is Avodart.”
“What’s that last one for?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I take that one too,” my father piped up from the adjacent chair.
“Do you have a heart condition?”
“No, but I have a prostate condition.”
The ashen-faced nurse sprinted out of the room and came rushing back with the surgical floor’s Pharmacist in tow.
“Have you been taking these at home?” she asked, slowly enunciating each word.
“Of course not,” snapped my mother.
“Your pharmacist.  She’s put it on your list of meds.”
“Well then perhaps she should try taking it.”

Incompetence. Comes in all shapes and sizes.

Weight Loss Progress Report:  I’ve lost 5 lbs!  The kitchen table leg has teeth marks, but I’ve lost 5 lbs.

Hmm...triple chocolate layer cake or sugar free jello?

I can’t believe how much I rely on food to satisfy my emotional cravings!  A very close friend of ours passed away recently.  He was an amazing guy and I really miss him. 

After the memorial service, the church ladies had prepared a lovely luncheon and if you’re a church goer you know that nobody cooks or bakes like the church ladies!  I bee-lined it right to the Nanaimo Bars adjacent to the Double Fudge Chocolate Brownies.  I felt an instant calm as I savoured the first bite.   

Not automatically reaching for “comfort food” is torture.  I can’t just whip up a batch of my soft, gooey, chocolate chip cookies or my decadent Irish Cream fudge.  Just eating a few of those warm cookies fresh out of the oven could melt away a day of stress or lighten my mood.  I’ve found that choking down dry popcorn or eating low fat yogurt topped with ten little peanuts just doesn’t cut it!

According to the doctors at MayoClinic.com, “Emotional eating is eating as a way to suppress or soothe negative emotions, such as stress, anger, fear, boredom, sadness and loneliness.”  They continue, “In fact, your emotions may become so tied to your eating habits that you automatically reach for a sweet treat whenever you’re angry or stressed without stopping to think about what you’re doing.”

My emotions must be cemented to my eating habits.  Which in turn are cemented to my hips!  So I need to adopt a few “calorie free” ways to face my stress and emotions. Anyone have any suggestions?  I’d love to hear from you.  See you next Tuesday!

This one’s for you RJ.

The day of reckoning has come.  For the last week I’ve eaten with wild abandon—peanut butter squares, butter tarts, New York Fries, buffets—and strange but true, my clothing seems to be shrinking???  But the harsh reality is…I’M EXPANDING AT A RAPID RATE!!!  It’s time to get serious folks.  I had mentioned that one of my New Year’s resolutions was to adopt a healthier lifestyle.  Well I’ve dragged my feet (and my saggy butt) long enough! 

With an army of weight loss programs to choose from, I decided to join Weight Watchers Online.  Like most women, by the time we’ve reached this age, we’ve tried every fad diet from grapefruits to sunflower seeds but I’ve felt so hungry on some diets that I could have eaten the table leg!  But the Weight Watcher’s program is supposed to be about momentum—not deprivation.  I’m not out to lose a massive amount of weight.  I just want my clothes to fit better and significantly reduce my sugar intake.

Today is Day One of my meal plan.  I’ll be eating lots of veggies, fruit, chicken, yogurt and even dark chocolate (my saving grace).  I’m not trying to sound like an advertisement here but I like the way the program works.  It’s based on point values for foods so I can pick foods I want and put together a meal plan I can live with. 

Later today, I’ll be dusting the cobwebs off my Nikes and heading for the gym.  I want Michelle Obama arms!  Take a look at her arms next time you see her.  They’re amazing. 

Wish me luck, ladies.  I’m sure I’m not alone out here so if there’s anybody who wants to join me in this venture or share their story, leave your comments.  Come back next Tuesday for an update.  I’ll be losing weight…one celery stick at a time!

My husband’s BlackBerry has become a member of our family.  BlackBerry has eaten breakfast with us at a swanky hotel in Washington, basked in the sun on the Florida coast, crashed my sister’s 50^th birthday party and has recently found religion.

I’m happy to announce that BlackBerry has a new friend, BlackBerry Storm.  Imagine my delight when my husband presented me with this lovely Christmas gift.  But to my surprise, we’ve become inseparable.  We exercise together, work side by side at my desk and have even shared the bathroom.  But what I don’t understand is my husband’s reaction to BlackBerry Storm joining our family.

We’re standing in line at the grocery store checkout last Saturday and just when we’re about to put our groceries on the counter, I hear the familiar sound of BlackBerry Storm announcing an incoming text message.  
“Just ignore it.”
“Why? I can’t.”  I’m frantically fumbling in my purse for the phone.
“Hurry up. Put this on the counter,” my husband says as he attempts to hand me a box of Cheerios.
“Where’s my phone?  Got it!”
I begin to weave my way past the shopping cart to an empty bench at the end of the counter. Lost in time, I sit down and begin to excitedly text an answer to my friend’s text message.
“I can’t believe you.”  He’s hovering above me.
“What?” I answer while I continue to text.
“The groceries,” he responds flatly.
“What about them?”
“You left me to do them.”
“Did you give her the bags?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have enough money?”  Texting just one more line.
“Yes.”
“Did she help you put them in the buggy?”
“Yessss,” he hisses impatiently.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“You sitting over here with that phone while I did the groceries.  It’s really annoying.”
Really?  Who knew.

Last year, my 15-year-old nephew almost went into cardiac arrest when I pulled out a feminine wipe from my purse so he could clean his hands at Tim Hortons.
“Oh my God! Put that away!!!”
“What?”
“That!” he shrieks pointing at my hand.
“You mean this wipe.”
“Shhhh.  God! Someone will see you.”
“You said you needed something for your hands.”
“Yea but not that!”
“It’s clean.”
“Get it away from me!”
Ending the torture, my sister and I wipe our hands and toss it in the garbage.

Surprise!
On a cold December afternoon, Ed and I, and several anxious little Yorkshire Terriers took a road trip in my friend’s van to their new home an hour and a half away.  We’re not five minutes into the trip and a familiar but unpleasant odour permeates the car.  Looking down, we see that two nervous little Yorkies have had an unfortunate accident in their crate.
“Oh My God.  Get rid of it!” snaps my husband.
“And just how am I supposed to do that?”
“Stick your hand in.”
“I’ll get right on that.”
“I can’t stand it!” he croaks through drive heaves. 
“You’re such a drama queen.”
“Open the window!”
“It’s minus ten.”
“Do something!” 
So I did.

“Here, put this under your nose.”
“What is it?”
“A feminine wipe.”
“Oh My God!!!”
“Well that’s it or nothing.”
“Why don’t you have perfume?”
“Just take it.”
Shuddering, he snatches the wipe from my hands and covers his nose.
“Better?”
“Yesssss.”  His hiss is slightly muffled by the dangling wipe.

Ladies, never under estimate the power of the feminine wipe.

Happy New Year!  I’ve got a feelin’ it’s gonna’ be a good year.  At the end of the Christmas holidays, I usually struggle with the thought of taking down the Christmas tree and putting away the decorations.  Packing up all the fun memories, happy feelings and kindness that everybody shows at Christmas time into a box and putting it on a shelf until next December.

But not this year my friends!  Bob Hope once said, “My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: loving others. Come to think of it, why do we have to wait for Christmas to do that?”  Every so often, I find myself coming back to Bob’s words.  I know we can have those magical feelings all year.  Although, I wasn’t very gracious the day after Boxing Day when the old saleslady at Sears told me the Jockey socks were not “Buy 2 Jockey Socks Get One Free” and that Jockey was exempt from the sale. 

I don’t think she had any appreciation how hard it was for me to climb up the display and bring her back the metal sign that read, “Buy 2 Jockey Socks Get One Free.”  She sniffed then pointed her bony finger to the infinitesimal fine print in the right hand corner of the sign that read, “Sale ends Dec. 24/09.”  Well who knew?  I told her that next time I’d whip out my handy Martha Stewart pocket magnifying glass so I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Guess I’ll have to loosen the lids on those boxes a little bit more.  See you next Tuesday.   

PROGRESS REPORT:  My new healthy lifestyle begins today!  I have a frig full of leafy green vegetables.  Check out Dr. Oz’s Blubber Busting Workout.