Suitcases and all...

I have been told by not one but TWO Pest Control "Experts" that my rat problem has a solution. After getting up on the roof, and checking the house completely over several times my exterminator and his supervisor (who made an appearance today) made the determination that the only way the rats could have gotten in was to walk through the front door.

I am not making this up.

They pointed out to me that there is a space of about an inch between part of the front door and the carpet/floor, space enough for a rat to get through. Also, when just the screen door is open, there's a space of a couple of inches. I knew about the screen door, which is why we only leave it open when it's nice and never when it's dark. I hadn't realized that there was such a space when the front door was closed (now that I do I realize this probably accounts for some of the freezing temps in our house this winter and the problem WILL be fixed).

So here goes their theory: the rats came in through the front door, walked to the kitchen, got in the cabinet under the sink, and crawled up the attic to take up residence. Strange, I would have thought I'd have noticed rats and all their moving boxes coming in through the front door, even tiny suitcases would have raised my radar.

So yeah, that's their theory. When I pressed them on this, when I stood there incredulously shaking my head as they searched for rat droppings (I assured them if I had rat droppings they'd know it), they stuck to their story. I asked them how the rats all came in and went right up the attic (where three have sense been murdered - heed the warning all other vermin thinking of taking up residence at 4529 Abbey Place - it's not a safe neighborhood for your kind!) and stayed there. Their answer?

Rat urine.

Apparently the rats leave "breadcrumbs" so to speak for the others to find and follow. So not only am I now running a hostel for the three blind mice and their fellow travelers, I've got a house covered in rat pee? COME ON!

Yeah. It's been a stellar morning. But at least the rats have a new menu tonight - the traps had M&Ms in them and now they have walnuts, maybe it's not that I have smart rats, I just have picky rats. Personally, I think I have rats who have another food source since they've been living up there as long as I have been here. But then again, I'm not a pest control expert.

Side bar - there was slight gratification this morning when the supervisor confirmed that yes, rats can get in the walls between the two by fours and run up and down the walls. My landlord assured me that hearing something in the walls was impossible. Take that landlord!

But I still have rats. Or maybe squirrels. Or even an opossum. That's what the exterminators think I might be here now, since the rats have probably moved on (this bad economy's hitting everyone hard I guess): squirrels or an opossum on the roof. Yeah. And the three blind mice walked right through my front door, suitcases and all. Next time I wish they'd call first, I like to set out a light supper when I have overnight guests.

I might get a bus card

When I graduated with my master's I had to buy a car. Angela went to Tennesee and took the Intrepid we'd shared up until then (not that I was too sad - I loved driving that car and how much it held but I hated how much money I'd put into it). I was determined, after dealing with car issues most of my driving career, to buy a new car. And I did. A 2002 shiny red Saturn VUE. And it has been my solid companion for the past seven years.

I rarely thought twice about it, it always started, always ran well, I kept it lubed and oiled and all that good stuff. Even tried to get it tires before the big Grand Canyon trip but they weren't needed. It was one thing in my life I took for granted and enjoyed taking for granted.

Until Saturday.

Angela and I spent all day shopping for a dress, a dress for her to wear to a wedding in February. I already have a dress but if any of you out there have had to buy something to wear for a specific event, you know how difficult it can be. Nothing fits. Nothing is in your price range. The malls are crowded. The salespeople aren't helpful. The store is under construction (don't get me started). And so it was a long day. But we decided after sandwiches at home to try one more store at one more mall. And on our second store at the mall (Angela had a Macy's coupon, we had to look), she found a dress. We were estatic. And ready to go home and watch a movie and go to bed early.

You know what they say about making plans right? Yeah. God laughed. And not just a chuckle but a freakin' big ole belly laugh.

My VUE, my trusty car, was dead. No cough, no trying to start but not able to catch but out and out dead. The lights dead, the locks dead, the hazards dead. Everything. Dead. For no apparent reason other than it had served me for seven years and was done.

Did I mention it was Saturday night? At like 7:45pm? And that we were in the basement of a five story parking garage. Yeah. I was impressed.

Almost three hours later we got home. Did I mention the mall was FIVE miles down the road? Yeah.

Because, of course, a cell phone doesn't work in the basement of a parking garage, I had to go five flights up on escalators to get a signal. Once I got the number for security, I asked for a tow truck company's number and asked if I could leave my car overnight. They sent a guy down to us who was very helpful, talkative and all-around nice. After asking if I had a wrench, a screwdriver or any tools (oddly enough, don't carry my toolbox with me), he finally used my pocket wrench to get the battery cover off and jump the car. Nothing. So he jumped it again. Nothing.

After twenty minutes of charge still nothing. So we left the car for the night and made our way to the mall entrance. We found a Taxi Zone and waited. And waited. And called. And waited. Then we tried to get on the bus, which didn't go well. Apparently you need to have EXACT CHANGE. Not dollar bills, change, to ride the bus. Again, so not impressed.

Finally the cab we called came and as Ang scooted across the backseat she motioned wildly at the floor. I looked down and did a double take, yes, there on the floor was a twenty dollar bill. After a moment of guilt, I smiled. God was making sure we were okay. (Granted it was a $20.55 cent cab ride home but still - for five bucks we got a heck of a deal!)

This leads me to Sunday. Back to the garage. Car still dead. I'm angry and frustrated that I have to deal with this. But I do. We tried to get the battery out (made a stop at Auto Zone on the way there, got some little tool that proved utterly useless.) but after an hour and a half, gave up (we'd even gone back to Pep Boys during this time to borrow tools - yes, they lent us socket wrenches, and yes, I took them back). So I went back up the escalators and called the tow truck.

And three more hours passed.

Yeah. I am a relatively patient person. I am also a planner which is why when we left Sunday afternoon I threw two magazines and a script in the car. It goes without saying that we read everything. After a few more calls to the tow company I figure out that when they get to the garage and call me, and I don't answer, they cancel my call and leave. They do not realize (even though I've told them) that I have to wait for them in the basement with my car, where I get no cell service and when I go up the escalators every 20 - 30 minutes to check my voicemail, I have none. So yeah. Finally a tow truck is on its' way.

That's when I find out a tow truck can't fit in the basement, the ceilings are too low (did I mention that it's rained over the weekend and the basement actually looks a lot like the set of Water World? Seriously. Six inch deep puddles in some spots and constant dripping.) and get a little more agitated. This is also when the tow truck's friend mini-truck arrives and offers me a jump. Even though I've already told them I've tried jumping it and it didn't work. So I say fine, jump it until your heart's content and I went off to find Angela. (After five hours in the parking garage we took bathroom breaks, and of course she took hers at the moment the tow guy shows and I have to leave with him even though I'd been waiting for her on level 2. Seriously this is a freakin' comedy of errors people.)

When I get back to my car the tow guy is smiling and says I'm good. I am incredulous. He says the guy last night didn't know what he was doing and I'm fine now, it's running just fine. So we pay him $80 (we got a $5 discount for paying cash, whatever) and he leaves. We sit there, in our basement, and drink the Starbucks Ang had just gotten us (she was a trooper, not feeling great, dealing with me and even made me pancakes at 9pm last night!). And then we head home.

All is good. I'm done with this car mess I'm thinking. I'll take it in to Saturn this week, have it looked over, even get it a new battery just for kicks. And then I put it in reverse to back it into the driveway, just in case. And it dies. Lights. Locks. Everything. Dead.

And that started the fun portion of the evening when Angela and Sarah got to push a million pound SUV up an inclined driveway. And can I just say, the incline is like eight inches? And it took us a good thirty minutes? Yeah. Fun times!

So that's the story of my car. And that's also why, as I write this, it's sitting in the driveway, staring out at the street, a very expensive lawn ornament. Yeah. I haven't decided what to do next. My dad found me sights on e-how with step by step directions for changing the battery. I might do that. I might ask my neighbor for some guidance. I might try and push it further back in the driveway when Ang gets home so we can park her car. I might get a bus card. And I might go work on my script so I can sell it and get a car that comes with a driver. That seems the most logical action I can take at the moment.

A day in Hollywood

When I moved to Los Angeles people told me they see "movie stars" everywhere. I didn't believe them. I didn't see them. Well, there was my friend Pauley but that's about it. I was starting to believe there must be a secret world of celebrity out there somewhere that I didn't know the directions to. And that's okay, I just go about my business and think about being in "the business" and life goes on.

But I still wanted to see some celebrities.

It's not that I want to stalk them or even approach them but I think it's fun to see them, to smile and nudge your friend and say, you know who that is??? It makes it seem like I live in Hollywood.

Today was finally one of those days. After listening to the biggest celebrity in the world give his inaurgural address this morning, I went to Homeless Lunch (where three of us wore our Obama '08 shirts and kept smiling, a lot). It was on the way there that I saw my first taste of Hollywood for the day, Ms. Audra McDonald. She wasn't doing anything exciting, just getting groceries out of a Prius but I smiled thinking to myself, I see her on TV every week (Private Practice).

Afterward volunteering I went to Mel's Diner with my friends Emily, Jim, Pauley and Michael. It was there that we saw Bruce Vilanch, the comedian and writer. Big red glasses and all! I was pretty excited even though it took all of a few minutes to come up with his name. I seem to remember him most from Hollywood Squares when I was younger, and his voice is very distinctive!

After lunch Jim and I went for coffee and that's where I saw my final celebrity of the day, Jai Rodriguez (of Rent and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy fame). Yeah, I am pretty geeked. And yeah, I know, I'm a dork!!! But I love it!!!

Movies! (and a Movie Star!)

I've seen four different movies in the past week and a half, in three different theaters. I am amazed at how different each experience can be, setting aside the film I'm actually viewing, and often times I forget how much fun a good movie can be.

Angela and I saw Seven Pounds the week she was off, in the middle of a Thursday afternoon, at the Grove (a big outdoor mall in the middle of L.A.). I am a huge fan of seeing movies in relatively empty theaters and this was no exception. The movie's been out for weeks and it was a Thursday. And it wasn't a kid or teen movie. The movie itself was interesting. I am a big Will Smith fan (this dates back to watching The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air on Monday nights, not on Nick at Night) and try to see whatever he's in. But this wasn't a feel-good movie. It was complex, sad, thoughtful, and very well acted. However, I had to work really hard at keeping up and figuring out what was going on, what actors went with what stories, etc. And I feel like if I pay my $9.50 to be entertained, I shouldn't have to work that hard for it. So not a thumbs-up from me. Not a thumbs-down necessarily (although Ang would give it that) but not a great movie.

Then last Sunday I was invited to a screening on the Paramount Studios lot. I was excited for several reasons. One, I didn't have to pay to see this movie. Two, it would be the first time I'd be on a movie studio lot! And three, I'd be seeing Revolutionary Road which I really wanted to see. So I gave my driver's licence to the guy at the gate and was printed out a cool ticket with my name on it saying that I was a guest of Elise Aliberti (no idea who this is) and was on my way to meet Brian, a friend from class who is interning at Paramount. Apparently the screenings are only for those who work on the lot (who have an ID badge) and are free every weekend. I couldn't think of a better perk. The theater was massive, state-of-the-art, and the most comfortable I've ever been in. The seats were big enough for me and half another person, with gigantic arm rests. No previews. No one talked. The picture was crystal clear. And the movie - well, it also wasn't happy go lucky. It was well done, beautifully acted, an interesting plot and ending but, well, sad. But good, definitely thumbs-up. And I think Kate Winslet is amazing and deserved her award.

I usually judge a movie by how well I get lost in the world. With both Seven Pounds and Revolutionary Road I didn't get that lost. More so with SP than RR. In RR I found myself thinking about making dinner and my to-do list, not a good sign for me. Not the whole way through but during some slower moments. But for me, the theater experience made up for it.

Thursday I saw Slumdog Millionaire, at the Arclight in Hollywood, again with my friend Brian (our other two friends were late and the Arclight has this policy of not letting anyone in five minutes after the show starts - we all thought this sucked until Saturday when, sitting at the theater at the Grove, about 20 people filed in ten to twenty minutes into the movie. And half of them filed through my row. Ugh.) I had reservations about seeing this movie, it didn't sound that interesting and I'm not a big foreign film person (Slumdog is set in India). But it was homework - I have to write a paper on it for my lecture class. So I settled into the theater and watched. By the way, the Arclight is a very nice theater - but the people next to me (yes, at a Thursday matinee with an almost empty theater, five people chose to sit next to me, ugh) were eating hot dogs with sauerkraut. And you all know how much I love sauerkraut. Anyway, I immediately got lost in the world of these kids in India. If you have the chance, go see it. It was funny and sweet and sad and smart and interestingly enough - set up much like Seven Pounds, in that we start near the end and go back to the beginning but this time, they got it right. Very right. I thought I was watching a movie that could very conceivably win Best Oscar.

That was until I went to the movies Saturday afternoon.

When Ang and I saw Milk in November we saw a trailer for a movie I hadn't heard anything about, Gran Tarino, starring Clint Eastwood. Immediately she said we should see it. Ang doesn't like a lot of movies so I said of course! So that's what we went to see Saturday. Again, a much different viewing experience, one I didn't enjoy that much but only because of the theater, not the film. The theater was over half full, leaning toward three-quarters, and as I mentioned earlier, people came in all during the first twenty minutes. And walked in front of us. And people got up to pee or do whatever several times, right in front of us. And some woman was on her blackberry for half the movie, then her voicemail, and they guy next to us, his cell rang. Not the best movie-going experience ever. But it didn't matter. I was lost in Detroit.

I was lost in a world I immediately recognized, and more importantly, enjoyed being in. From the garage filled with tools and a vintage car to the cooler filled with cans of beer. From the crotchety old man to the obnoxious grand kids and gang-bangers. Yes, it was crude and racist and yes, it was funny and touching. Yes, it was stereotypical and coarse but it was great. It was entertaining. And as the credits rolled and Clint sang his song "Gran Tarino" (how much does it rock that Clint-freaking-Eastwood produces, directs, stars in, and writes and sings the theme song for his own movie?!?!? And he's good at it ALL!), I thought again, this movie could win Best Picture. That good.

Oh - AND - as Ang and I pulled into the Grove parking lot on Saturday we stopped for traffic and waited for our turn. And guess who drove right by us, stopping for a moment in traffic, long enough for us to see him and hear him talking to his passenger but Laurence Fishburne!!! (Yes, of The Matrix movies, Akeelah and the Bee, Pee-Wee's Playhouse, and most recently CSI!) It was pretty cool, after we came home last night we watched Thursday's CSI and thought about how we had just seen this guy, on the street. It's a small small, crazy world!

dRATS!

Back in the early fall Angela and I started to hear noises in our house. No, not ghosts but something alive, something with nails that clicked and made little squeaking noises. We shook it off thinking it just must be animals on the roof, most likely squirrels, and let it go. But then the noises got worse. We started to hear them during the day (well I did, sometimes all day long) and more frequently. After Thanksgiving (we didn't want to scare our house guest Susie too much) I placed a call to our landlord to ask about the noise. His response?

Squirrels on the roof. He joked about playing Alvin and the Chipmunks for them and blew me off. I was not impressed. So I marked down the day I called on my calendar and vowed to throw it in his face when whatever was up there, so evidently in the attic and maybe the walls, started eating through wires. I prayed there would not be an electrical fire or that whatever it was would come down to our level.

And then we got home from Michigan. And the noises grew louder and almost constant. Running, scratching, banging into things. Last weekend at one point I turned to Ang and said I think we have velociraptors up there. (Remember the claws clicking on the kitchen floor in Jurassic Park?!?!?! Yeah. I do.) I was gone Sunday afternoon for a while and it became too much for her. She called and left a rant on the landlord's voicemail. And this week the exterminators showed up.

I'm pretty sure Javier, our exterminator, thought I was a little nutso. The girl who was overreacting to nothing. He looked all around the inside and outside of the house and said things looked fine. He poked his head up in the tiny attic door inside my closet and said he couldn't see anything. But he set traps anyway, because that's his job, and said he'd be back Friday morning.

Thursday night Ang and I were sitting in my room just after she got home from work and we heard the critters. And then we heard a very audible snap. Ang started yelling she wanted the traps out - NOW. She didn't like this. I said there's not much we can do about it now, I'm not going up there. So we waited.

Friday morning Javier was here before 8am and came in with his ladder. I'm convinced he thought he'd find empty traps because he brought nothing to hold an animal. But when he came back down the ladder his eyes were wide and he said we had something. Two somethings. After I got him a grocery bag (no haz-mat bag or anything, I was a little creeped out by this) he brought down the traps and showed them to me. (I told him I wanted to see them. This might not have been a good idea in hindsight.) And there they were.

Two dead, ten-inch, fat, RATS. I said to him, those aren't mice and he shook his head and said no, rats. My stomach turned.

He installed another trap and on Saturday morning we caught another. He'll be back Tuesday to check again. I am sure we'll find more because Saturday as Ang and I sat in the living room, I was telling her how quiet it had been and maybe we only have three and they're all gone. But then the clicking and running began, this time over the dining room, farther away from the traps. I think they've caught on and are staying away from the war zone. I wish they'd go back out the hole they came in. (And the fact that they can get through a hole the size of a quarter does not give me any consolation.)

After Ang called the landlord back, we got further action. We have a month-long contract for the rat removal and a permanent contract with the exterminators. They'll check monthly for rats and they'll begin spraying for ants, spiders and roaches too. When I asked Javier about our ant problem, telling him our landlord said that was normal, he shook his head and said no, it wasn't and he'd take care of them, inside and outside, for us. I'm very happy to have this newly formed relationship with Javier. I think he and I will become fast friends!

We also have our handy man and a contractor coming out to "fix" the problem in the attic. Because they're coming in, right? And I figure if these guys got in, others will too. I'm just glad they're not living on the main floor. So yeah, that's the story of the rats. I've seen enough to last me a lifetime. I'm done. Done! (Do you hear that up there!?!?!?) Oh yeah - that's another thing - my first question was, why does our neighborhood have rats? I don't see them running in the streets or anything like that. Guess we're just lucky, and good hosts.

Just a whole lotta crazy

It's one of those weeks - actually it's felt like several of those weeks. Where everything just seems to go super fast and super slow at the same time. Where you have a lot to do but never seem to get it all done. You know what I'm talking about, right? Tell me I am not alone in this.

Maybe it's the holidays being over. Maybe it's the lack of the election to spur us on in debate as a nation. Maybe it's this HUGE FREAKING MESS OF AN ECONOMY we seem to have on our hands. And mostly by that I mean the budget cuts here in Los Angeles that have left Angela and I praying for her job. Yes, I know, things are bad everywhere. But they seem a whole lot worse when you pay the rent and wonder if there will be another paycheck to cover next month's. Yes, it's that serious.

Maybe it's being done with my novel and my screenplay and knowing that I now have to tackle what I think is a writer's hardest job of all: rewriting. I know I need to cut the novel down by oh, a third. And I just realized, thanks to my wonderful classmates who have helped me see the light, that my protagonist in my screenplay is completely passive aggressive in the second and third acts and she wasn't that way in the first and she just shouldn't be that way.

Maybe it's that I am trying to change my diet and my stomach always seems to rumble. Or that I know I need to exercise but I also need to do the Mary Kay books and rewrite that novel. Maybe it's that I finally got my class assignments for the University of Phoenix and I'm scared to death that it's going to take over my life and I won't have any time to do my writing.

Maybe it's that the day after Angela and I got back from Michigan my great grandmother passed away and we couldn't afford to go home for the funeral (also, I had school that week). I wanted to be there and couldn't but I feel as emotionally drained as if I was. I spent time with her at Christmas and to me that means more than any funeral ever could but still, it's on my mind. Especially when I go to write my thank you notes and see her name on the list. Or when I am filling out my calendar for the year and come across what should have been her 96th birthday.

Maybe it's that I am excited about this new class I am taking, the business of being a screenwriter, and the possibilities it entails. I am starting to read "the trades" and think commercially, and actually treat it like a business instead of just a craft. That's a mixed bag for me. I am trying to balance researching production companies and agencies with editing and writing and reading scripts.

And I know, we're all busy, we all have things going on. And I'm so thankful, I really am. I love what I am doing, I love being home during the day and writing and getting ready to teach college classes again. I do. I love the volunteering and the friends I am making. I love having to see movies as homework (this week: Frost/Nixon and Slumdog Millionaire). I love being in school. I love learning. I love that my parents are now on Facebook, and my grandma and basically my whole extended family!

So yeah, just a whole lotta crazy going on here. I felt the need to write and I hope it doesn't come across as griping because, in reality, I'm pretty happy. I'm not just doing writing anymore, I am becoming a writer. (This distinction was made clear in my lecture Monday night and I am determined to become not just do!!!) I have people who love me, new friends who feel like old friends, old friends who hold me aloft every single day. And I live in southern California, where it was 90 degrees and sunny today. On January 14th. When the rest of the country is buried under snow and below zero temperatures. So yeah. I'm okay. And if I tell myself that enough times, it will become my truth.

Prayers please

UPDATE:
My aunt's surgery went as well as expected, she'll be in the hospital for a while though so we'd still appreciate prayers.

Angela's procedure was smooth sailing (even if everyone in the place seemed to be running late - at 7am). She was out by 9:30 and I got her some hot chocolate and coffee cake before she started to get too drowsy. She's sound asleep now, something they said might happen, either that or insomnia. I am hoping for just the sleepiness, for now, for her sake. I really do appreciate all the prayers from those of you who've been with us today. We are confident that God's hand is on her and will help ease the suffering she lives with on an every day basis.

Monday is going to be busy this week. It's not only the start to another week of school, preparation for the new classes I am going to be teaching for the University of Phoenix, writing, etc., it's also the day when two people in my life will be having surgery.

The first is my Aunt Gloria - my father's sister. She has Multiple Sclerosis and is confined to a wheelchair. We had a great visit on Christmas and through the help of a microphone I was able to have a long conversation with her, the first of any length in a number of years. She's a forty-year old woman who is smart, funny, sweet, caring, Christian, loving, has two beautiful children and yet, is sidelined by this disease that keeps her literally tied in her wheelchair. I hate the disease but have come to understand that God is not done with Gloria and he uses her in amazing ways to bless those around her. And I am one of those lucky people. Monday morning she'll have surgery for a colostomy bag, a surgery that she is nervous about. She's very susceptible to infection and as such will stay in the hospital about a week. I ask for your prayers for her.

Also, tomorrow morning Angela and I have to be at the hospital at seven a.m. for her to have a nerve block. She'll be put under and the procedure hopefully won't take long but the results are what we're praying for mostly. If it works, and if two subsequent procedures work, it could be an end to her migraines. We're trying not to get our hopes up too high but we're optimistic. God does wonderful and amazing things every day.

Won't you spend a few minutes of your Monday praying with me, for these two special people?

Us Pesky Hecklers!

Last night I did something new, in my quest to get out and do new things in Los Angeles. I went with eight friends to The Comedy Store on Sunset Boulevard.

My friend Michael's dad, Leon, was one of the stand-up comics performing, along with about twenty others. I was surprised we had so many and I do have to admit that some of it was hilarious and some of it was just bad and sad. But it was fun, it was fun to go out and hang with a group of friends I normally only see on Sundays at church, it was fun to laugh and talk and be doing something besides school and writing and the normal every day stuff. And I'm trying to think but I may have only been to one other stand up show before. So that was an experience in and of itself.

It was fun, even at the end when it was literally our group and two other girls left in the whole room. The second to last comic was great, he had more of a conversation and I know he didn't get to do any of his own jokes but he went with it and we enjoyed him and complimented him profusely after. However, the last comic of the night, when it was just us left, was rude and didn't want anyone talking. I get that, I get wanting to have your moment but I also get that we'd paid money and it was almost one o'clock and we didn't really have to be sitting there. And when you're the last comic out of twenty to go on, you've gotta roll with the punches I say. And this guy didn't.

About five minutes into the show, he turned mean. Pauley was "heckling" him in his words, and while were all just wanted to have fun, he obviously didn't want an interactive show and he turned on us. And that's when I stood up and said, "I'm out. I'm uncomfortable and I'm leaving." Yeah, right in the middle of everything. So I hugged everyone and left, and he continued on about how the others had driven us from the room and then within seconds, everyone filed out behind me. It was interesting!

We hung around in the parking lot area for about half an hour, talking to other comics and just enjoying each other which was by far the best part of the night. And I certainly think the ending made the night more memorable for all of us!

Here we go - again.

I am not on a diet. I am not on a diet. I am not on a diet.

I am hoping that by repeating the mantra over and over again I will believe it. It's a new year. And I'm hoping for the old me to come back. Specifically the me from a couple of years ago when I was in the process of moving out west. The me who weighed 44 pounds less than I do today. The me who fit into all those clothes that are now relegated to the top of Angela's closet. The me who was thinner and more importantly, healthier. The me who didn't get out of breath when climbing the hill. The me who exercised every day and loved it (well, didn't think of every excuse to get out of it). The me who didn't have knee pain. The me who wasn't as worried about heart disease because I was taking off the pounds and adding muscle.

A few years ago Ang and I made a decision to lose weight. I've always been heavy. There's no denying this. When we were at home this Christmas I went through the scrapbook my mom is making of all our Christmas photos and saw me from my first Christmas through elementary school. When I was two I looked about four. I know a lot of it's genetic. I am six foot tall, I have size eleven feet. I can never change those things and don't want to. But I know I can be thinner. I know because I've done it. And I know how hard it is.

I also know it takes a change in attitude. A change in lifestyle. I am not on a diet. I have a new life which includes eating differently every single day. No exception. This past year was hard, as were the last two. I moved, twice. I had a new job. You try teaching middle school, coaching sports, writing a novel, applying to grad school, living away from family and friends and you tell me how easy it is to focus on weight loss. Those aren't excuses, I know. But they are reality. I let myself slip back into the old way of eating. Oh, pizza tonight won't kill me. Going out to eat and splurging is okay just this weekend. Not walking today won't matter.

But it all matters. I learned the hard way. I gained it back. No, I didn't gain it all back, not even half of it. But enough that I am unhappy with how I look and how I feel. I am scared that I am doing damage to my body that cannot be undone. So I am making a change.

They (the infamous 'they' everyone talks about) say it's easier to keep a resolution if you tell people about it, if you lean on others for support. So I am sharing my resolution - to be healthy. I am trying not to focus on the weight loss part too much, because I want to be healthy for other reasons too. And it's not that I want people to police everything that goes in my mouth, in reality that angers and hurts me more than anything. But I do want you to know that I am changing the way I live. For the better. I am making some decisions to put me first. Oprah says that's what it's all about and I want to believe her. So I'm trying. Again.

The whole thing

In 2008 I took on a challenge - to read the entire Bible in one year. It seemed daunting. I'd never read the entire Bible, a lot of parts of it but not the whole thing and certainly not at once. So when the church here in Howell took on the project I joined up. And it was a long year.

At first it went well - less than fifteen minutes a day and I was done. But then I'd get a day or two or four behind and I'd have to spend an hour catching up. Okay, do-able. But then summer came and moving and starting school again and suddenly I was a month and a half behind. But I was determined. And guess what? On December 30th I finished. I finished the whole thing.

Each day's reading included a passage from both the Old and New Testament and from the Psalms and Proverbs. The last reading of the year ended on Proverbs 31:25-31 and I smiled as I read the last three verses:

"Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all." Charm is deceptive,
and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Give
her the reward she has earned, and let her works bring her praise at the city
gate.

I like that I got to end the year with a sense of accomplishment and a sense of encouragement. A woman who fears the Lord is to be praised - I think this is true for all of us who try to follow God's word and His heart. Who try to love and just want to be loved in return. I also like the part telling that her works will bring her praise. I try to live my life as a Christian primarily through works. I know that words can be hollow and fall on deaf ears and I know that a good deed or an outstretched hand or assistance when least expected can mean so much more.

This year I will not read the Bible again, I think I need some time to reflect and I'm going to pick up one of my old daily devotionals again, but I do think I'll keep that proverb with me - and the rest of the teachings and stories I've spent the past 365 days reading.