Weight Watching

As Charles Barkley says "I joined Weight Watchers. That's right I said it."

Since I been a member twice before, it's really not that radical a thing for me to do. But it was at the top of my list of things to do when I got to California. Losing weight is only one reason to join WW. Equally as appealing is the social interaction with the other members, who are mostly women of course. I's say the ratio of women to men approaches twenty to one. Not bad odds . . . and that's just the half of it. The other men who join are -- how can I say this -- not much competition. Not because I am as big a lady killer as I think I am; but because they have either joined with their wife or they are unattractively obese. Hmm, does that me you can be attractively obese? I think that's a topic for a whole different blog.

Back in Michigan I found that my weight was depressing the hell out of me. Not only was I at my maximum density, but I was developing a revolting beer gut like 99 million other middle aged men. With the failing state of my body from the illnesses, living with a disgustingly ugly gut was just one physical insult too many. There's no denying that I'm vain. And of course, the illnesses also make dieting difficult because it lowers your blood pressure. An added benefit for most everyone, but not for me.

I've told all my family and friends how hard I work at looking and acting healthy even though I'm not. Any small thing I can do to counteract the degeneration that's going on inside me to make me look better on the outside is a big boost psychologically . . . and a little present to myself for fighting the good fight. Thus the weight loss.

My plan was to slowly and consistently lose about a pound a week for six months and then level off and stay there for good. I figured this might work for two reasons: it would be gradual enough to prevent lowering my blood pressure and it would allow me to permanently change my lifestyle with respect to food. In my previous tenures with WW I lost thirty pounds each time in about ten weeks. I was hungry ALL THE TIME but I can be so obsessive about achieving goals that I forced myself to lose the weight. When I got to target, I said "Thank God, I can eat again." and that was that.

I joined five weeks ago and I've lost 8.4 lbs. A little faster then I wanted to, but it feels really good. I don't feel like a stuffed pig and my digestive system has felt pretty good. The only way I can make it work is by going to weekly meetings. The meetings seem completely different than those in the past. First there's the group leader. Wow! Smart, energetic, great looking, fit, realistic, savvy, generous and enthusiastic. . . Imagine this -- somehow I find it easy to pay attention to a stunning woman. Who would've guessed! Since I'm paying attention, I'm really giving this WW thing some thought. I think it's really sinking in that it's about changing your lifestyle -- it's not a diet. As Kris (not her real name) says, it's like a wedding and a marriage. Losing the weight and reaching goal is getting through the wedding. Being married for the rest of your life is maintaining your goal weight. That's exactly what I'm trying to figure out. I know I can reach goal. Can I change permanently and stay there is the issue.

I don't know much about Alcoholics Anonymous but it seems that the concept of attending meetings for support and encouragement is the same with WW. Particularly for me, the new guy in town who doesn't really have any local friends yet. I really look forward to Tuesday mornings. . . and tracking the foods I eat on my iPhone fits my obsessive behavior to reach my goal. BTW, my goal is to lose 24.5 pounds.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Goodbye Michigan, Hello Sunshine

Six months ago when I last wrote a blog, I had made up my mind to move to California and reap the benefits of its magnificent weather. Now it's six months later and I did it. I actually did it! Frankly I think when I wrote that last blog I didn't really believe it would happen. I certainly had no idea the level of effort it would take to pull it off. I am very proud of myself for making it happen.

California is truly a strange and wonderful place. As many times as I have been here on business and holiday, I still had no sense of what it like to live here. Even when I am feeling depressed and angry because I'm alone, I still want to stay here. Of course the weather is amazing, but it goes well beyond that. First, the people are nice and generally happy. Probably because they live in such a pleasant place. Second, there is so much to do. Again, the weather makes being outdoors so appealing that life is built around it. And lastly, the people are so attractive. I swear in the first ten days I was here I saw 3 fat people -- three! In Michigan you can see that many in 10 seconds. If ever there was a place where I could have every possibility of meeting a woman that I could be with, I believe this is it. The attitude is so relaxed.

That doesn't mean it's that easy to make friends when you're my age and brand new -- and exude the standoffishness that I do. Sometimes I forget how often I was told that I give off an air of arrogance. Which is funny when you get to know me. Yes, I used to be an arrogant little prick but I'm all grown up now and I don't mind saying I'm really a nice guy. So my prediction in the previous blog that making friends would be the hardest part of the move has proven to be true. I have been doing -- and will continue to do -- all the right things: join Weight Watchers, sign up for yoga class, and join a social group. Still it is hard to find someone I can get comfortable with. All the old reasons why I have been somewhat of a loner are still there. All I can do is work to change them.

I can't say that I've had any real fun misadventures here so far -- nothing that entertaining enough to write about, so I'll go back to my last month in Michigan. I used to eat dinner at the bar at Friday's in Michigan four or five nights a week. It's one of those places where everybody knows your name -- in my case, they definitely did and treated me very well. But in all the hundreds of meals I have eaten there, I don't think I have ever had more than one or two women strike up a conversation with me. So I was taken aback one Thursday night when a very young girl started talking to me the moment I sat down. Despite her youth and my lack of recent practice, I immediately slipped into charming mode. You know; lowered my voice and tried to be mysterious. After a couple of minutes she got around to mentioning that she was born in Orange County California. Actually not that surprising since I had just said that I was moving to the O.C. in a few weeks. Next thing I know she has moved over next to me and I noticed she was drunk. She mentioned that she was 23 and started telling me about her mom. As always, I'm in a daze and asking myself why a 23 year old is hitting on a grandpa. Even though she was drunk, she occasionally said some pretty honest sensible things about age, people and relationships. Well she continued to tell me that her mom was 55 and beautiful -- repeatedly. Eventually she asked if I would like to do something like go to a casino with her and her mom. I said sure, why not. She was with her cousin and the two of them went off to the girls' room. I waited awhile then left.

The next day I asked myself if I wanted to sit home that night or go out with the mother and drunken daughter. I said "what the hell" and texted them to meet me at a restaurant at 8:00. The restaurant was jammed so I got a table. When they showed up I immediately chuckled to myself. As I could have guessed, the mother was not attractive at all. As the evening wore on I realized her personality was less attractive than her appearance. I mean, I know bitter and this woman was bitter. She talked about some crazy-assed books she had read that nothing to do with anything we were talking about. The climax of the evening was when I returned from the restroom and figured out that both the mother and the daughter had gotten into separate confrontations with management of the restaurant over issues that were very vague. As in they made no sense to me. As we left the daughter made us exchange phone numbers and hug each other. The mother was stalling so much to keep from leaving that it took her 15 minutes to write down her number. Neither of them bothered to say thank you for dinner. I was glad to leave and assumed I would never see them again.

Flash forward to the night before I moved. My neighbor was helping me pack and I suggested that we take a break and have something to eat at Friday's. We sat at the bar and in about one minute I hear "Hello, Jim." It's the daughter - -and yes, she's drunk again. Three times I've seen her; three times she been drunk. She immediately mentioned that I never called her mother. I brushed that off and turned to my neighbor and told her that this was "the daughter." My neighbor is a woman, of course, and I had told her abou the prior encounter. After a bit more gibberish, daughter walks up next to me and says "You should have slept with my mom." What! My neighbor and I look at each other in amazement. Daughter proceeds to tell us that her mom was a Playboy Playmate in 1989 and the you can look it up. Again were smirked at each other. After shaking my hand for about 3 minutes the daughter left. All my neighbor could say was how sorry she felt for this crazy messed up little girl who seemed to be pimping her mom for a new dad.

Boy, I can really attract them can't I?

More to come. Thanks for reading.

One week into LaLa land

When we last met here I was freshly landed in Orange County and the world was my oyster. (What the hell does that expression mean anyway? The world is a slimy aphrodisiac? ) Now I have had a week to experience California by myself -- well, mostly and I'm still on the same track that I started from. I need to get my condo sold and close by the end of August and move out here the first of September. I have looked at twenty apartment complexes in Huntington Beach, Costa Mesa, Irvine and Newport Beach and there are a couple I could do okay in. My original target location was Huntington Beach close to the water, but after looking at a dozen complexes I realized that there hasn't been an apartment built there since 1975 and all the renovating in the world won't change a sow's ear into a silk purse. Actually the very first place I looked at was a much newer complex in Irvine that I liked, so I went back and looked to see if the builder of that one had others available. Well it seems that the Irvine Company owns half the city so they have lots and lots of places. A bunch of which are new and don't feel nearly as claustrophobic as those 70's places I was in. The final piece of the puzzle was being directed to a Rental Living office which manages 120 properties. Lovely little Mary interviewed me and set me up with five places I might want to visit and I did just that. The place I like most is by the Irving Spectrum Center, an open air mall next to a sports arena and an IMAX. So I think I know where I want to live and can afford it, maybe.

One big factor is surprisingly the number of planned community activities. You know the kind of stuff that I avoid like the plague in my own complex back home but now is center stage in my quest to make friends. Yes, a girlfriend would be nice, but a couple good friends would fit the bill just as well. At least that sounds good and I am trying to convince myself.

Now let's go back to something Denise said when we arrived here in early June after driving across country. "It seems like a different country." Boy, does it ever! Obviously the weather is better, but not just better. It's in a whole separate category of better. On the coast it's always sunny and pleasant year round. The whole environment and culture is built around the weather. That's why there are 22 bajillion people out here. The people are noticeably different from Midwesterners. They're friendly but seem superficial. They're not as polite as we are in the Midwest. But the punch line is that even if it is a different country that doesn't mean I can't live here. I can adapt as much as I need to and since I'm a cranky old man I can say, "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on" if I don't like the way someone acts toward me.

The experiment continues. I'm here for ten days to see how I feel; to see how it feels; and to decide if it feels right to try it. I've got lots of notes and have been very observant about those things that could be deal killers. The biggest obstacle remains making friends. That will only be determined when I try it, and it's totally under my control to put forth the effort.

On the other hand. Denise and I were walking through the open air mall near my home-to-be and I was thinking "Is this just of those impulsive things that Jim does from time to time only to fall flat on his face?" You know, like proposing to M or going to law school at Georgetown. I would say "Yes it is." But that doesn't mean I should stop and return to reality. Fuck reality. I live reality every day with these half-assed illnesses of mine. Just today I did something to my pacemaker while I was doing Yoga exercises that caused the damn thing to flare up again (I'm taking about the pocket in which it sits.) Then I had a panic attack and had a horrible morning riding out the panic. It took every ounce of mental energy I have to convince myself that this is not the first step in my next trip into the O.R. to have the pacemaker removed and replaced. That's major surgery and it's dangerous. That's the kind of shit that I deal with every day it seems sometimes. It can wear your ass out. So I'll chose fantasy over reality right now. I can be practical for the rest of my life if this doesn't work. All I can say is "Knock this off my shoulder. I dare you."

Know what I mean?

In 45 hours I'll be on my way back home to Michigan. Will it be the last time Michigan is my home?

Thanks for spending time reading my stuff. Guess what the picture above is.

In California, part II

Motive and opportunity. That's the answer but what's the question? The question that my daughter asked me was "What made you decide to move to California so quickly?" "Seems like there were a lot of issues last Fall." Well the motive was to feel better and the opportunity was the combination of two things: a trip to Southern California to relocate Denise to her new job and to find a buyer for my condominium.

In my most recent postings, I chronicled the car trip from Southeast Michigan to LaLa land. After three and a half days in the car we arrived at the luxurious Candlewood Suites in sunny Garden Grove, California. I noticed the nice weather. Imagine that! Mid-60's. Sunny. Breezy. In other words, just perfect for me and my crazy physiology. Meanwhile back in Michigan the highs were in the mid-90's.

I hung around for five days to make sure Denise was settled in her job before I left. After a couple days -- actually right away -- I noticed I could walk along the beach without overheating and I felt better overall. This phenomena continued the whole time I was in SoCal. This was not the first time I had thought that Southern California had the perfect climate for me, but it was the first time I seriously asked myself if I could live here.

The other half of opportunity was listing my condo again (fourth time) and getting an offer of $100 over my asking price from the first looker. Not really that surprising when you find a $300,000 condo for $170,000. That wasn't the end of it because it's a short sale. So I decided to fire my lawyer and handle the lenders myself. As many of you know, I got the primary lender to go for it in one phone call. I'm working on the home equity lender now. Assuming I can close that piece, I'm out from under my beautiful condo; which, by the way, I love. It's just in the wrong place.

I'm back in Garden Grove as I write and it's the middle of July and again it's cooler here than in Southeast Michigan. Love those ocean breezes. My idea is to move here on an continuing trial basis. As long as I feel okay and like it, I'll stay. If not, back to Columbus. Denise is right that it's a quick decision, but I don't make it lightly. At or near the top of the list is being across county from my one-year old grandson and his soon-to-be-born cousin. That's really a tuffy. But if I feel better I will live longer and maybe my grand-kids will remember me more. Next on the list is medical care. Then affordability and so forth. There's a dozen issues at least. But I know what will make or break the deal.

"I was one date away from staying." I'll 'splain. While I was in career No. 1 (teaching) I decided career No. 3 would be lawyering. Career No. 2 was computer programming while I went to law school at night. I enrolled at Georgetown Law School in D.C. as a full time day student. I was 32 years old. There were about 100-150 in my class and they were all younger than me. I was single and lived alone in Arlington, Virginia and drove into Washington each day. My son David was 10 years old and I missed him terribly. Each day in Constitutional Law class I would stare across the room at an attractive but wild looking woman whom I fancied. (Can I say fancied in the 21st century?) Of course I was scared shitless to speak to her so I would look for her around school and when I saw her I'd look away. Sounds like Radar O'Rielly doesn't it?

Somehow I met her and found out her name and phone number. I have no idea how. And I even called her once and chickened out from asking her for a date. I was 32-fucking-years old! Well as you might guess, I left Georgetown shortly thereafter. But if I had asked her out, the course of my life might have been entirely different. So I was one date short of staying.

That will be the test in California. Will I meet someone so I don't feel alone. In Michigan I have a ton of friends, even for an introvert like me. I have a very well established support group. So we'll see how I do at making friends here. If I do, then managing the rest of the issues like not seeing my grand-kids often enough will be more manageable. If I'm alone, I won't cut it. Denise will be here but she has her life to live. She can't and shouldn't babysit me.

Your advice is encouraged and welcome. Thanks for reading.

On the Road Again . . . in Cali

Garden Grove, CA. What's the big attraction in Southern California? The weather of course. And it's been purr-fect. While the Midwest sizzles in 90 degree heat, it's sunny and in the mid-60's here with a nice breeze. I couldn't design more healthful weather for me. I can actually walk in the sun for a while without overheating. The combination of bright sunshine and cool ocean breezes are ideal for me. Immediately I thought "This is where I should live." Not so fast, I-love-LA breath.

The traffic. Everything it is reputed to be and oh so much more. The gotcha is that you can't do anything without driving in your car. So everyone is out in their car and amazingly there is incredible congestion -- and we haven't even experienced rush hour yet. Alex has done 90% of the driving and has handled it well. I'm sure I could come up with some traffic stories, but why?

Now comes the challenge, the rest of the story. Since my son Rob me not to write blogs that "make you want to kill yourself after you read them," I have tried to stay upbeat. I'll do my best. (The other challenge is typing with this damn tremor.)

Our three and a half days in Cali so far have not been great. First there's culture shock; but I think it's exacerbated a lot by being stuck in a shitty location and lousy hotel. Oddly enough it doesn't feel warm here. As in it's not a welcoming place. The people we've interacted with are friendly and helpful, but the atmosphere is like all these people locked in their air-conditioned cars. Behind glass. And we can't find anything interesting to do. Normally exploring would be first on my list but here that requires driving on these fucking freeways. That's a mood killer right there. We have struggled for something to do. Obviously we needed to spend some time looking for areas for Alex to live. We did that Saturday in a area called Belmont Shores, which is right on the beach, and found lots of apartments for rent. It seemed like a safe place with lots of diversity. So Alex wrote down a lot of information and we called, enough already. Again the culture shock; not the rent. We knew that. Just the massive difference between the feel of the place back home and here. My goal was to be supportive and helpful but not to let her get overwhelmed.

So next we explored beaches. Long Beach, Sunrise Beach, Huntington Beach, Belmont Shores; all very nice. Venice Beach - not so much. I was expecting Santa Monica and got Myrtle Beach. On Sunday we were stumped but restless to get out of jail. I haven't mentioned that this hovel has no pool and no place to sit in the sun or shade. The rooms are tiny. There's more but back to the story. At my suggestion we went to Hollywood. First, I about shit when we pulled up to Hollywood and Vine. Is there a better known intersection in this country? Well there is absolutely nothing there. Nothing. Up Holywood Blvd. Grauman's and Madame Trousseau's (sp?) were cheesy and the stars on Hollywood Blvd. were so numerous that they became nothing more than a place to walk. We were further frustrated that we couldn't see the Hollywood sign; we even drive into the hills. We ended up at CPK for lunch for the second day in a row and guess what? Over our shoulder was the Hollywood sign. And why don't you see a picture of it in the margin above? Guess.

Alex starts work today. She really needs something to counteract these culture shock blues. Me too. Every time I look at her sad face my heart breaks and I dread getting on that plane to go home. These are the times you really earn your parent salary. You know the one that does not pay in cash. She's tough and she will end up liking it but not without going through some loneliness and pain. Right now it's difficult to watch. Particularly for me.

Deep Thoughts. Deep thoughts? Come on, I'm in Southern California.

I'm looking forward to my visit to Disneyland today. It's the only thing within walking distance.

Thanks for reading.

On the Road Again . . . Day 4

Garden Grove, CA. I guess three's the limit. Of days you can ride in a car without going nuts, that is. We landed in Garden Grove, California around noon so it was little more than half a day. But it seems that was half a day too much. We each were hit by a ton of bricks. Irritability ran high. Tempers ran short. Every little task became an irritant. Our frustration was compounded at lunch when we could not find a decent place to eat and ended up at a Thai place. It stunk.

Back on the road. No Illinois Man sightings. Hope that wasn't him broken down in Utah. We were out of Utah and through Arizona before you could sneeze. That put us squarely in the land of casinos. No town is too small to have a gaudy-assed gambling establishment. As a businessman I always wonder how these cheesy looking places can support themselves. Who are they attracting? People who want to drive from California or Arizona to gamble but don't want to go another forty minutes to Vegas? I guess it will remain one of life's mysteries.

Did I mention yesterday that in Utah there is a stretch of I-70 where there is no gas, food or lodging for 106 miles? Not something you see a lot of in the Midwest. Kind of frightening in a way. Like not having a security blanket.

The 250 miles from the Nevada-California border to the L.A. Basin is a long barren downhill descent from the land of nothingness to the ultimate over-crowded metropolis. For that matter there's not a lot except the well known (to me, that is) "Eagles on Highway" sign from Colorado to San Bernadino. There are some beautiful western landscapes, but it's all so brown. Where are the trees? Back home. Where else?

With the aid of little Tommy, Alex navigated the L.A. traffic beautifully without a single misstep. Since Tommy refused to tell us exactly where our hotel was, we spent a bit of time looking for it. No worries. We arrived around noon local time tired, hungry and fit to be tied. As I mentioned, lunch was shit. Afterward I fell into an exhausted slumber while Alex unloaded the car. Later we had a quick pizza and hit the sack. Welcome to California.

Deep Thoughts. How did you react to the killing/assassination of bin Laden? I felt strange about it from the moment I heard it. I was glad is was dead. He was a mass-murdering psychopath who had no business being alive. Killing him was the right solution and infinitely better than arresting him and spending time and money on a trial that would go nowhere and would further sanctify him to his lunatic followers. I was fine with killing or assassinating him. What bothered me was the American reaction. Celebrating that we just killed this guy seems a little creepy. I would have felt better about celebrating a victory over terrorism. It seems that would be more respectful to the victims of 9/11 and their families. That was the victory to me. Chanting "USA. USA." seemed weird to me. A little too much mob mentality. A little too frenzied. It had an uncomfortable hint of Germany in the 30's and 40's. It did take us ten years to find the maniac.

And you thought I never had any really deep thoughts.

Much more to come. As always, thanks for taking your time to read this.

On the Road Again . . . Day 3

Washington City, UT. This morning we left at 6:48 and headed up into the Rockies. Awesome! Gorgeous! Breath-taking! Coming out of the Eisenhower Tunnel you see a spectacular view of the snow capped peaks. If only I had asked Alex to pull over so I could take a shot to share with you. Ah well. The going was very slow but the scenery is so wonderful that I didn't really care. And without the assistance of little Tommy we found a mountain Starbucks -- in fact there was a whole shitload of them. These mountain people really like their over-priced coffee.

About the incident from yesterday. Never happened. Well, it never happened to Alex. It did happen to me and Karen about 35 or 40 years ago. Of course there were no ATM's then so we had to get the cash from Karen's mom and take it back to inbred Jed in BFE. And the asshole did want to put me in the clink.

I'm writing this at 4:30 AM in the bathroom so I don't wake up Al, who is probably awake anyway.

We did have one semi-interesting personal encounter of a sort. We discovered Illinois Man. He's driving a shitty-looking white midsized car of some kind. It's maybe fifteen years old. You'll recognize it by the crap stuffed in in the seats so high the back window is completely obstructed. The passenger's seat is likewise full of shit. And it's clearly junk, not well packed personal possessions. We saw him Tuesday for the first time. We made our snide remarks and forgot about him. Until Wednesday when Alex said "We passed that guy yesterday." Mildly interesting when you're bored to death. After stopping at Starbucks and driving for a while, guess who? Illinois Man. Did I mention he still had on the same shit-eating green tee shirt? He did. Well, we passed him two more times in two more states. On our final descent into Southern Utah I saw a shitty white midsized car on the side of the road with the driver looking under the hood. Illinois Man? I hope not; the man needs to get where he is going.

The weather was cloudy all day but when we checked in at the Holiday Inn Express (Thanks, Chris.) it was sunny, breezy and about 82 degrees. Perfect. Wish I could package this. I feel great.

Deep Thoughts. I know you're asking yourself "Where do these deep thoughts come from, Jim?" Well, thanks to my illnesses I can't sleep more than 4-5 hours and I don't want to wake my traveling partner, so I think deep thoughts (imagine scary organ music).

The first of which is a follow up to yesterday about powerful men who think they can get away with anything. It's this: These men have chosen to lead DELIBERATELY PUBLIC lives. . . and they still think they won't get caught. Does the President of the United States think he can get away with sexual indiscretions and then get away with lying about it? (And I like Bill Clinton.) I guess the Ohio State football coach thinks it's worth risking his career to keep nitwits who trade memorabilia for tattoos eligible to play in a damn college football game. I guess now he knows the answer.

But I digress. Today's deep thoughts are about movies. What's the difference between your Favorite Movie and the Best Movie you've ever seen? Probably that your Favorite Movie is the movie you enjoy watching the most because something about it strikes a chord with you; whereas, the Best Movie you've ever seen probably has the best writing, acting, casting, direction, music, production design and so forth. In my case they are the same movie: the so-called Godfather Saga. That's The Godfather and The Godfather Part II played in chronological order. I love just about everything about these movies. What makes them the Best Movies I ever seen are all the things I've just enumerated, but most of all it's the characters. They are so authentic, particularly the supporting roles. Here's one: Don Fanucci, the Black Hand. Remember his white suit, his tilted fedora, his pinkie ring, his coat draped over his shoulders and his regal wave? I look at him and I believe that is the Black Hand, not an actor playing a role. There are dozens more. And the production design! Was Vito's tomato garden the perfect set for an old Italian man? The music! Let's not forget the dramatic tension between despising these men as vicious killers and thieves and admiring them as fathers and men of unshakable values.

Well, you get the point. So why is it also my favorite? What strikes a chord? I feel so Italian when I watch it. It makes me feel special as an Italian. Sometimes a movie is so good that you like it just because it is good.

And finally . . . Tomorrow (actually today) we hit LALA land. Alex can't wait to get there. Me, I have mixed feelings. I'm excited for her . . . and for me. But I dread getting on that plane back to the motor city.

Thanks for taking the tine to read this.