Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood

My Zany Years Spent Working in Tinsel Town

Motherhood

Nada Mama.

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I am a mom.  A mother, mama, madre… etc.  And I am truly celebrating that today.  But I’m also celebrating my super-hero ability at this particularly unique juncture in my life to do – – – well – – –  absolutely nothing.

Zip.

Nada.

This super-hero ability transcends traditional thought, and enables me to love doing nothing, to cherish it, to step outside of myself at times and analyze and see my nada state of being for what it is – to relish and be thankful for it.  And THAT is amazing.  The really super-power trick, however,  is not to let the nada-ness be cause for worry, self-defamation or fear.

Mother’s Day 2002

My two boys are older now- one fully grown up (I know… I was six when I had him.  It was in all the papers), and one who is 14 and lives with his dad in another state.  I love them so much (and so often) it hurts – in a good way most of the time – but that is another story — one that is so very much more than nothing or nada, and to even try to do it justice in my nada frame of mind, just wouldn’t be fair or right.

So – I’ll tell you about my realization that I actually relish being a Nada Mama on this beautiful Mother’s Day, 2010.

You see, though I own my own business, and love what I do (marketing and PR – spinning and pitching stories for the media, getting my clients on red carpet at some fabulous events, making deals for them, etc.), things (and by “things” I mean paying clients) have been very scant lately.  So much so, I’ve been keeping myself ultra busy, spinning plates/wheels, doing tricks, “putting it out there” – pitching myself to friends, acquaintances — sending resumes around since October – and still nothing has changed (my bank account notwithstanding).  As busy as I’ve been – even up until this past week – trying to “make things happen” – there is still – – just – – nothing, it seems.

Oh, I’ve gotten a new client here and there, lost a few along the way – but things everywhere in this universe just seem to be —  STUCK.  And I feel for others out there!  I’ve only been trying to elicit some serious change since last October.  Many more have been battling far longer.

So, I’ve just decided this week to just go with it.  To love the nada-ness.  Embrace it.  Hold it.  Cuddle it.

And now it’s official.  I am a bonafide nada queen.  A lounging fool.

It’s Sunday, and I spent the day yesterday lounging on the beach with M.C. Nugget.

I love the beach. Love laying in the sun (with appropriate SPF properly applied, of course), riding my bike along the strand in Santa Monica, watching the sunset over the Pier. It’s quite relaxing and amazing.  I may not be raking in the dollars right now, but I am certainly raking in the sunshine and reaping the benefits – the soft, golden skin that comes from the balmy sea air.  I may not be making power deals at every moment, but I am powering up the little hill on Ocean Park Boulevard peddling my bike as fast as possible to make the green light, and reach my final destination — the friggin OCEAN people! Hello?  How lucky am I to be just a couple of blocks from the great blue sea?

So, it’s been an incredibly challenging year for most folks.  I can’t even begin to detail the types of difficulties my friends and family have encountered.  Yet, even still, for every person who’s struggling (financially, health-wise, etc), I know someone who at least seems to be doing just fine.

So I’ve decided that I am too.  And I am actually GRATEFUL for the NADA MAMA I am!

Right here.  Right now.

Carpe Diem, people!  I gotta seize the day, because, hey – life is short – and I may never again be able to simply wake up, attend a 5-day-a-week pilates class, answer a few emails, check in on Facebook, handle a few details for my clients, and then – if I so desire – take the rest of the day off to lay in the sun or ride bikes with my man.  Granted, I don’t do that every single day (I’m still in Nada Mama training) – but believe me, as of late, I’ve done my share.

No matter how difficult things get, I have to realize that I’ve got it pretty stinkin’ good to be able to just stop, dead in my tracks, along with the seemingly STUCK UNIVERSE, and smell the roses, sip the coffee, soak in the rays, etc.

Ahhh.  To do absolutely nothing.  Everyone should be so lucky.

Happy Mother’s Day everyone!  Yes – EVERYONE.  Even you, who are not female, or mothers.  Yes, even you have a mom, or have had one.  Everyone has.  And I bet they all learned to enjoy being a Nada Mama once in a while too.

Stay tuned next week for some more tales of — well — how about nothing!  It’s either that or I’ll have to give away some of the fun and frivolity that occured at the Baja Cantina, The World Cafe and more on Cinco de Nuggie (M.C. Nugget’s Birthday)!  But until then, people… just do this for a while:   breathe in…. and breathe out…. ahhhhhh.

Love you people!  Mmmmmppphhhhuuuuhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2009, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious

Miracle on 44th Street: Nereide Francesca Padalino Sherwood, Part 2

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Hello you lovely, gorgeous people out there!  Welcome to the land of all-things-Ms.Cheevious.  Okay – maybe not so much this week.  This week I’m finishing up a two part series dedicated to and in honor of my lovely, wonderful, incredibly warm and caring mother – Nereide Francesca Padalino Sherwood – who passed away early, December 3, 2009.

If you are new here – well, gee – thanks for stopping in. I hope you enjoy yourself, though I must admit – this post is not characteristic of my usual posts.  But now that you are here – read it – and learn something, would ya? 🙂  And… uhm… you may want to come back again if you’re looking for the sexy, fun, flirty antics of Ms. Cheevious.  Because this won’t be that — and I’m happy to say so.

The story below, originally entitled, “Miracle on 44th Street” was written and picked up by internet magazine The New York Review (now defunct due to the sluggish economy).  It was taken from my mother’s dictated life story, and written in story form.  

Of all the stories of her life, this is one of my favorites.  It captures the magical life my mother led. It was that type of life she taught us to live for.

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I walked down Maiden Lane on my way home from work and headed toward the subway. It was a beautiful summer day in June, 1942. I loved the feeling of the warm sun on my face as I walked. Was it only because I was able to leave work early that day that I noticed the grand weather we were having? It was only a temporary job. I was so sure when I took it, that I would find something else before the two weeks were up, but now it was over, and I was painfully unemployed. How on earth would I help support my mother?

As the subway neared Time Square, I decided to get off. There was no need to rush home to the Bronx, and cranky old Aunt Lib just yet. Besides, I loved Time Square. It reminded me of everything I wanted: the glitz and glamour of life as an actress on Broadway.

Walking by the Astor Hotel on Broadway, I picked up a copy of Actor’s Equity, a theatre trade magazine, which told of rehearsals and upcoming auditions. I noticed that a talent agency was auditioning for some plays on the 7th floor of the Sardy building on 44th street, across from the Shubert Theatre, so I went to check it out. I quickly learned that all the auditions were for summer stock up in the Catskills, and my heart sank. I couldn’t go up to the Catskills, work for free, and support my mother at the same time!

I got in the elevator to go down, and at the 5th floor, everyone from the audition got out. I thought I’d better get out and see what was happening! I followed everyone past a secretary into a huge waiting room. We waited, and waited. After sitting there for two and a half hours, I finally got the nerve to ask an old gentlemen next to me, “Pardon me, but who are we waiting for?”

He said, “We’re waiting to see Mr. Simpson”

After a few more minutes, I replied, “Is anybody going to see him?”

He said, “You’re new. Why don’t you go see the secretary and see if you can see Mr. JJ?”

I didn’t know who Mr. JJ was, but I figured he would be a good person to start with. I went over to the secretary, and asked her about it. She took my name “Nereide Padalino,” and disappeared.

Ten minutes later she called my name and took me down a maze of passageways – lined with movie and theatre star photos. She led me into an impressive office with windows overlooking 44th Street. “Mr. JJ” was none other than JJ Shubert, and was sitting at his desk in his shirt sleeves. He stood up immediately and apologized, explaining that he tore his jacket on a nail and sent it down to the tailor to be fixed (in those days it was impolite to be in the presence of ladies without wearing your suit coat).

“Well, Miss Pah-dah-lino,” he attempted, “What can I do for you?” He smiled nicely.

“Well that’s just it, Mr. JJ. I sure hope you can do something for me! I have to get a job to help my mother, but I want to get into show business!” I blurted.

“Well,” he asked, contemplating, “What can you do?”

I eagerly offered, “I had the lead in the high school play, and I sing in the church choir.” Talk about an inexperienced, ingénue, country girl!

He was sweet, nonetheless, as he said, “Come with me.”

He stood up, took my hand, and led me down the hall to “Simpson’s” room, where old Simpson was sitting at a big grand piano. The big boss Mr. Shubert, told this schnook, who kept all those people waiting in the other room, “Simpson, play a few notes for the young lady.”

Simpson played a few notes, and I did some trills for him, “Tra la la la.” Mr. JJ said, “That’s just fine.”

He took my hand again and led me back to his office. We sat down and he looked at me and said “Let me see what I can do for you. Why don’t you give me your phone number and I will call you in a couple of days if I can find something.” And that was it!

I went home to Aunt Lib’s house. It was already after 6pm and she was furious!

“Young lady! Do you realize what time it is!? Where have you been!?” she screamed.

“I was with Mr. JJ Shubert.” I replied.

“Come off it!” she retorted, “You’re in New York now! Who do you think you are, you hillbilly? Somebody just told you he was JJ Shubert! There are a lot of con artists out there now!”

“I swear! It was Mr. JJ!” I defended. I relayed the whole story about his office and where it was located. So, she called her best friend Eva. Eva had a niece who was one of the famous Rockettes.

She hung up the phone and huffed, “Eva said there is no way on earth you got in to see Mr. Shubert. Her niece said he is the hardest man in show business to get to see!”

“Well, he told me he’s going to call me in a couple of days. He’s going to see if he can find me a job.” I responded.

“We’ll see about that! You gotta be careful who you talk to!” She snapped.

After a couple of days, and no phone call, I went down to see Mr. JJ again.

I said directly, “Mr. JJ, you said you’d call me. I’ve been waiting! I’ve got to get some work!”

“You know Nereide,” he said kindly, “This being June, there are no shows opening at all in the summer, except the summer stock in the mountains.”

“Well, I can’t wait. I have to get a job now. I have to help support my mother.” I pleaded.

“Well Nereide, what else can you do?” he asked hopefully.

“I took short-hand and typing in school. I can do some secretarial work,” I said enthusiastically.

He called his secretary in. “Give this young girl a pad and a pencil,” he said. “Take this down,” he said in his dictation voice. He proceeded to dictate a very short letter of about three sentences. I was so nervous, I had to memorize it! I couldn’t even write.

“Okay. There’s a typewriter out there. Type it up and bring it to me,” he said in a mock-authoritative voice.

I went out and typed it. Would you believe I made three errors on it? I took it into him. He didn’t say a word, he was so kind.

He asked, “How much were you making at your last job?” I only made eighteen dollars a week, but I lied and told him twenty. “Alright” he said, “You can start working here.”

I should have been thrilled, but I was relentless. I reminded him “But, I want to get in show business.”

“Well, nothing starts rehearsing until September. So, until then you can work here in the office,” he answered me, closing the deal.

I settled quickly into my new job. I was responsible for typing the re-writes for the man who revised the operettas into modern language for the librettos. JJ was always sweet and very polite. He was like a father to me.

As time passed and summer was coming to a close, I asked, “Mr. JJ, when are they starting rehearsals? I am doing all the scores for these plays and things.”

He asked “What do you want to do? You want to go with the cast of The Student Prince, Blossom Time, The Merry Widow or Gilbert and Sullivan?”I was so green, I said, “Well, who are Gilbert & Sullivan?”

He said, “It’s a repertory company. They do about eight to twelve plays.”

I thought for a second and replied, “That sounds interesting, because then you wouldn’t be bored with the same thing every night! I think that sounds like the one I want to do.”

He smiled, and asked, “Are you sure my dear? It’s a very hard life in show business.”

I quickly replied, “I know, but I’ve got to try it. I’m dying to get on the stage!”

It was settled. Mr. JJ sent me to Murray Korman Photography Studio to get some professional photographs taken. He even had Murrary Korman send him the bill. I said goodbye, and I never saw Mr. JJ again.

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I walked right into the chorus line of the Gilbert and Sullivan Repertory Company. I never even had to audition. My friends in the chorus later told me “We heard there was going to be an office stooly coming in.”

They soon learned I wasn’t. I was so thrilled to be a part of it all and to live my dream. I worked very hard, and loved every moment.

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Yes, my mom was all about enjoying life, and it was infectious.  It’s where I get my motto – Enjoy Every Moment. 

The Albuquerque Journal saw this about her, and chose to write about her life and death.  If you’d like to read that article, you can go here (http://www.allbusiness.com/society-social-assistance-lifestyle/religion-spirituality/13540597-1.html).

Before I go, I’ve posted some of the video clips from my mother’s funeral service.  The first is a song our brother Jim sang for a part of the mass – during which all of my mom’s grand-children who were present and old enough, brought the communion implements to the priest.

Next is the video of my sisters and I singing the “Holy, Holy, Holy” portion of the mass.  If you’re Catholic, you’ll know what that is.  If not, you may recognize the song anyway.  It was an honor for us to do this for her:

So there you have it!  My two-part hommage to the woman who shaped and molded me throughout my childhood and into adulthood. Neither she nor I had anyway of knowing the magnitude with which her words, actions, love and tenderness would impact my life, and the lives of everyone I know.  She is largely responsible for much of who I am today, and I am eternally grateful.  Here’s to you Mom!  I love you.

And with that – I leave you to have a fantastic weekend.  Enjoy your friends, family, work, play — whatever you have near you and at your finger tips!

Next week I promise to get back to my Ms. Cheevious ways and tell you all about the mischief in Hollywood.

Love you people!  Mmmmmphhhhhuuuhhhhh!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2009, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious 

When Is Saying No Not Okay?

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It’s the wee hours of the morning, and I am wide awake.  Perhaps it’s that “decaf” coffee I’ve been drinking, which in retrospect, contained some flavored, caffeinated grounds as well?

Anyhow, my boyfriend underwent surgery early this week.  It was a surgery he put much hope in, as he’s been dealing with an illness for quite some time (since before I knew him), that since I’ve known him has gotten progressively worse (Yeah, I know.  The inferences are endless here, so spare me!).  He suffers with what the doctors believe is Eagle Syndrome.

He went in feeling and hoping that THIS surgery was going to be the answer. It may have been.  But he’s very stubborn.  I tried to explain to him that surgery is still trauma to the body, and that he would have to slow down afterward for at least a few days, no matter how good he felt, to allow his body to heal.

But noooo.  He went on an intense hike the day after his surgery.  He went on another one the following day.  Today he stayed in because he felt extremely sick.  Now he is feeling HORRIBLE. So bad, in fact, that he declined my taking him out to dinner to celebrate our Easter Holiday together (an early dinner as I will be out of town).   He went to bed hours ago, because he felt so sick.

Here’s the clincher.  I’ve been planning to leave tomorrow – or is it today?  I’ve been planning to leave on Friday the 21st, to head back to Aspen and get ready for my twelve year old son to come for the week.  Before going to bed, my boyfriend said, in a worried voice, “I don’t know what I’m going to do if I continue to feel this way, babe.”

Immediately, I’m embarrassed to admit that my heart sank.  Not because my boyfriend is being unreasonable, and not because he has even created this dilemma.  This conflict is my own.  I spent my entire married life (obviously, prior to this) revolving everything around my ex, his life, career, health and mental issues.  I sacrificed what I wanted to do ALL the time.  It’s a sensitive subject.

But I couldn’t help but feel like the right thing to do would be to cancel my plans and stay and take care of my man, until it was absolutely necessary to leave for Aspen.  I’d made plans to meet a girlfriend in Aspen, prior to my son’s arrival, but this only made me feel more guilty – like I shouldn’t have made those plans.

I am normally one to trust my instincts, but in this case I am just not sure what to do.  Am I being selfish?  Should I stay and take care of my boyfriend, or should I stick to my plan and trust that he can take care of himself?   Is it okay to say “no” to my instincts in this case? Or is saying “no” NOT okay in this instance? Would that communicate poor priorities to my love?  My boyfriend and I have worked hard to individuate and live healthy “individual” lives, while sharing everything with each other.  This is a tough one!  Give me some advice here people – because I am definitely struggling!

The Monster in Me

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Let’s just say that right about now, if you’ve been reading this blog, you know me pretty well.  You know things about me that shouldn’t be known, one of which is that my cardinal weakness tends to lie in, um, well, food.  I was about to say, sweets (and NO, nothing else. Get your minds out of the gutter!) but then I remembered my Pizza diversion last week.  And then of course, there was the decadent, delicious dinner on Valentine’s night at my favorite restaurant.  Then there was tonight’s menu at Pasta Jay’s, which I won’t even go into.  Have I forgotten something? 

I don’t believe I am a food addict, however.  (Yeah, yeah.  The first stage is denial, I know).  No really. I just have this fantastic relationship with food, and I am an exceptionally relational person.  Plus I love to cook.  I’m pretty good at it too.  I can pick out the spices that grace a phenomenal dish, and daringly attempt to recreate the dish on my own – even to my own detriment. 

So, what?  My own personal roller-coaster ride exemplifies the ups and downs, mind games, incredible temptations and roadblocks associated with injecting discipline into an everyday life – especially my life.  Anyone desiring real change in their life, need only visit me here regularly to see that it requires real, true commitment and the discipline, diligence and determination to weather the storm amid seeming failure.  As my mama use to say, “Anything worth anything requires something.”

Plus, as I near the end of this stinkin’ “get healthy again, fit into my summer suit” weight-loss challenge, it’s inevitable that I encounter and come face to face with one of the countless tempting, alluring, tasty treats or “no-no” foods that call out to me relentlessly. 

Of course it’s bound to happen,  since I am so close to complete success.  Go figure.  I’m about 3 pounds shy of my goal, and low and behold this great fiend of a “thing” hunts me down.  It is the still, small voice in the quiet calm of the day that I hear as clear as a bell.  It’s the hypnotist’s chime that mesmerizes me into a dazed trance and tugs at me until I surrender, bowing at its feet.  It’s my ultimate torturer, playing target practice with my senses and disabling my ability to reason, rendering useless all cognitive and self-restraint skills.

Hello, and welcome.  If you’ve stumbled in here by chance, be afraid. Be very afraid.  You’ve just entered my own personal nightmare.  Well, okay.  It’s not really a nightmare. 

Anyone who’s ever tried to slim down, lean out or trim the fat has dealt with this very same horror:

How do we conquer our own personal food demons? 

In my case, it’s not a demon, as I said, but a monster.  The problem is, mine is not really your everyday, average-joe kind of monster.  This guy is not content to stay in my closet, no.  He resides under my bed, in my closet, in my kitchen, in the car on the way to my favorite coffee place, at my desk and anywhere else I may be trying to stay faithful to my renewed sense of health. 

No matter what I do, I cannot get out of earshot from him.  To compound things, my monster is also a shape-shifter.  In the past he took the form of a Cinnamon Sugar bagel at Einstein Brother’s Bagels on Academy Boulevard in Albuquerque, New Mexico (because no other Einsteins made them the same).  They were toasted to perfection and smothered in butter, tasting like a hot, buttered cinnamon roll. 

Then, before I got too smart, my monster shifted into a Palmier cookie from the Champagne French Bakery Cafe in Los Angeles.  The mini version, of course.  You’d think it might as well be the large one, but no, this monster is clever.  You see, it convinced me that the mini palmier didn’t count.  Therefore, I could eat one every single day. I must admit, that flaky, buttery, crispy thing was yummy.  I finally got over that one by realizing that all that needless butter “in” would only turn to fat “out,” and I needed to regard my body as a temple.  Whole grains, vegetables, lean proteins like fish and poultry were all the essentials I needed.  But it was a tough one.

palmier.jpg

Now, as I prepare to divulge the latest shifting of this devious fiend, I want you to prepare yourself too.  You are going to laugh in disbelief at how non-devious and obvious this monster has become.  It’s almost as if my own personal monster has been dabbling in Buddhist philosophy, and become a Zen-master, fooling my mind to help me reach a higher plane or greater consciousness.  The new shape of my monster is:  drum roll, please:

The Monster Cookie at Red Rock Bakery Cafe in Moab, Utah. 

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What kind of joke is this?  Can you believe it?  You’d think my monster was doing the old reverse psychology on me.  Was I becoming too smart for my own good, that it had to shift into something so blatant, even I would be fooled?  Or is this the universe’s way of assisting me in finally overcoming the hurdle of the latest decadent food I’ve become enslaved to? Perhaps I’ll take this little realization with me tomorrow when everything starts all over again!

Being enslaved to a Monster Cookie in Moab, Utah wouldn’t be so bad, in any normal person’s life, because most people don’t reside in Moab, Utah.  Heck, I don’t even reside in Moab, Utah.  So, what’s the problem?  Well, my pretties, I do sort of reside in Moab part-time, and it just so happens that THIS part-time session has been during my weight-loss challenge.  The hitch with this monster?  The one thing that keeps me eating them?  Could it be that they don’t have any flour, so they must be low-calorie?  Well, that’s the snare, but it’s too good to be true.

Though I’ve not conquered my demons in totality, I like to think that I conquered my monster.  Today, I actually did it.  I finally conquered the Monster Cookie!

How?  I ate every last bit of it.  I even licked my fingers and grabbed the crumbs and ate those too.  It was all for you, I must say.  I had to quiet the monster, so I could report back that I’d done it.  And the only way I saw how (in a pinch) was to eat it and silence it’s voice forever (at least until tomorrow, that is).  Now the monster is indeed in me.  Get it?  The Monster in Me?  I crack myself up. 

Now the real question is, how do I get that thing out of me without going bulimic, and can I do it before weighing in?

You see?  I did say to be very afraid.

In my defense I promise in all honesty that I never have nor will I ever cheat at this thing.  It doesn’t do me any good.  I always know the truth.  So does the scale. I won’t lie about what I eat.  I won’t lie about my weight.  I will always take responsibility for my actions.  So if, when I weigh-in tomorrow morning just before sending this, I have gained weight, I will tell you. 

Here are my results for this week.  Please be kind.  Remember, I’ve had quite a challenging few weeks.  You’d almost never know I was trying to slim down, now would you?

Start Date:  Thursday January 31, 2007
Height: 5′ 5″
Goal: 125 lbs
Beginning weight:  136 lbs
Weight after week 1:  132.5 lbs (02.07.08)
Weight after week 2: 130 lbs (02.14.08)
Weight after week 3: 130 lbs (02.21.08)
Weight after week 4: unknown – no scale! yippee! (02.28.08)
Weight after week 5:  128 lbs (03.06.08)
Weight after week 6:  127.5 lbs (03.13.08)
Net Loss / Gain this week:  -.5 lbs – YEAH BABY!!
TOTAL Net Loss:   8.5 lbs  UH HUH!

All in all, I am like the energizer bunny of healthy eating.  When my world is crazed, and life is busy, and I am traveling and buying property and transitioning in life – I could easily give it all a rest.  So many of my friends have said things like, “Give it a rest, girlfriend. You are thin. You don’t need to worry about it, especially now!” But they have always said that.  No one has ever come to me and said, “You need to cut back girl.  You’ve been eating like a horse.”  No one, that is, except my anorexic ex-husband.  I actually see this time of transition and hectic schedules, and incredible pressure to be one that demands health to stay alive and to be able to enjoy that life.  I can do this, and I will.  I know I need it and that’s what truly matters.  I will not stop trying.  Today is the first day of my greatest success. 

So tell me, who, what or where are your monsters?  What are your secrets to overcoming them?

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Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious

Shimmy Shimmy Cocoa Pop, Zucchini on the Top!

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I had quite an eventful week after chatting with you last. 

It started in Tampa, Florida, where I attended a business conference.  It’s also where I successfully fit into THE summer business suit.  Yes, that very suit.  You all know what I’m talking about.  Aside from the fact that THE suit I’m referring to has been the catalyst for this entire series of posts (regarding my urgent quest to shed 11 pounds), it’s also a part of your lives too.  You either own one, or you have something similar hanging in your closet.  It’s that one item that doesn’t look or feel as good as it use to, and yet you continue to store it in your closet.  Why?  Because of the promise of “some day.”

Some day.  We all know that nifty little “catch all” too well, don’t we?  How many times do you plan to do something, or simply envision life a certain way in the future, and yet some how, “some day” eludes even the best of planners? 

When I put MY summer suit on the first time, “some day” was no longer an option.  THE summer suit  precipitated a somewhat frenzied, yet long overdue reversion back to healthy eating habits, with the full intention of not only fitting into, but looking HOT in said suit.  And guess what?  I fit into my suit.  It looked great, and I felt great wearing it.  The shoes – not so much.  But as they say, “Fashion before comfort, baby.”

Welcome to part #263,000,432 of my series on, well, me.  And if I’ve actually fooled you into thinking that, my work here is done.  HA!  You’ve actually entered a place for people to read the stuff of an every-day life enjoyed to the fullest – shaken, not stirred.  And with a twist. It’s a place people come to read each week, because they laugh and they identify, and because we are all a little insane at times. But seriously, I am actually in the midst of a self-imposed weight loss challenge.  I will fill you in on my progress eventually.  So keep reading.  It’s very good, I promise (my weight-loss result, of course).

After writing last week’s blog post I hopped a plane in Tampa and headed to Los Angeles, California.  I am buying a condo in LA, and over this past weekend I hunted like an Amazon for the best deal, in the best neighborhoods.  It was also the day I received a call, with subsequent text messages from a sister I rarely hear from.  I was changing planes, and missed the calls and texts, but my heart leaped into my throat when I saw who it was.  My worst fears entered my mind.  I called my sister immediately to discover that our mom had suffered a stroke. 

It turns out that my mom, although 83, is doing okay. She’s a fighter, I tell ya’. But it was a scary and uncertain couple of days, which when pondered, brought to mind all the most important parts of our lives.  Forgive me if I wax sentimental here for a bit.  I know. For me, this is a stretch.  I found myself remembering my mom as my “mommy” who I loved so much as a kid – and of course, I still do today.  I really, really loved my mom though.  She was my very first best friend.  I called her ad nauseam at work every day after school.  Sometimes I would hear the receptionist say laughingly, before she actually put the phone on hold, “It’s Lisa again!”  But I didn’t care.  I needed to tell my mom what I thought about my walk home from school that day, and how funny something struck me on television, or how Billy Norton ate a grasshopper on the play ground, and “ewe” how gross was that, and whether I hated my homework assignment for the day.  She always listened and laughed and tried to accommodate my need for her over the phone, no matter how busy she was.

I realize now, without a doubt, that I never lost that best friend status with my mom, and even as she approaches the end of her time here on earth – and no one knows when that will be – she could be with us for many more years to come – I will always revere her and think of her as one of my very best of friends, as well as my mother, my nurturer and my very own special mommy.  She has no idea of the grand and beautiful legacy she has built over her lifetime, and I am a proud and very lucky part of that.

My mom was the consummate “hot mom.”  We grew up with incredible images of our mom as a youth – photos proudly displayed around our parents’ business and our home by our dad – of her in her late teens and early twenties, when she looked more beautiful than Rita Hayworth.  We knew that our mom was glamorous, beautiful, talented and incredibly intelligent.  What a role model, eh? 

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She was (and is) also very funny.  While we were growing up, she regularly did things (without meaning to) that cracked each and every one of us kids up.  We had so much fun around our house, we were taught that life was to be enjoyed.  And my mom is responsible for that.  She showed us all how to have fun or to look on the bright side, no matter what the circumstances.  She modeled it for us as well. 

Thinking about my mom like that truly reminds me of being a kid. 

It makes me remember simple things like wanting to learn to jump rope.  My mom took me out to buy one, because she understood. I remember working so hard at it so I could jump in with the other girls on the playground at school as they jumped to all the different chants and rhymes, like this one: 

Down, down baby, down by the rollercoaster,
Sweet, sweet baby, I’ll never let you go,
Shimmy shimmy cocoa pop, shimmy shimmy rock,
I met a girlfriend, a triscuit, she said a triscuit, a biscuit,
Ice cream, soda pop, vanilla on the top, 
Ooh Chelley, walking down the street, ten times a week,
I said it, I meant it, I stole my mamma’s credit,
I’m cool, I’m hot, sock me in the stomach or forget it.

Remember those types of meaningless games we’d play over and over again?  Okay, maybe it was (or is) just me.  But I have to admit, it was a carefree time, in the biggest, truest sense of the word.

And now, I find myself at a loss for funny words to describe my challenges of weight loss this week.  How does one mitigate the seriousness of life, with its very trivialities?  I guess that staying fit and lean, for me is not trivial.  It’s a matter of life or death, and the ability to enjoy that life that is so precious!

This week for me was all about survival, I suppose.  Not in a sad sense, but I just found it challenging to stay awake!  I was exhausted the entire trip!  But I did have some fun in LA, like seeing The Color Purple (INCREDIBLE), and going to the Clipper’s game (thanks, Bill!).

I suffered the usual missteps, like being served regular coffee instead of decaf (BAD thing to do to me), and feeling so shaky and almost hypoglycemic at an airport that I ate an entire large slice of pizza, only to arrive home and eat a giant cinnamon role at Zele Cafe – not to mention eating the remainder of a Cadbury Dairy Milk bar found in freezer when I returned home!  Now that’s WILL POWER  my friend!   

I can, however, leave you with this:  I stuck with it.  I could have hung it up, especially after that big pizza, pastry and chocolate day, and allowed myself a few more days lacking self control, but I didn’t.  I had to make the conscious choice NOT to.  It was also difficult staying on track in strange cities, at hotels and in airports.  I did what I had to do.  I went to the local grocer and bought organic baby carrots, I brought my favorite bite-sized chocolates with me, and I was a complete nuisance to waiters at restaurants (okay – that last one is always true – but I just love making up my own healthy menu item – without butter or oil, please).

I even blamed my hardcore antics on you guys! It was a real convenience, so thanks! Ha ha.  I only used it as a last resort, but I said something like, “Nope.  Can’t have it. I’m on this weight loss challenge with my blog, and I have to report my progress every week.  Sorry!” I know, it’s bad, but hey, whatever works!

My results for this week:

Start Date:  Thursday January 31, 2007
Height: 5′ 5″
Goal: 125 lbs
Beginning weight:  136 lbs
Weight after week 1:  132.5 lbs (02.07.08)
Weight after week 2: 130 lbs (02.14.08)
Weight after week 3: 130 lbs (02.21.08)
Weight after week 4: unknown – no scale! yippee! (02.28.08)
Weight after week 5:  128 lbs (03.06.08)
Net Loss / Gain this week:  – 2.0 YEAH BABY!
TOTAL Net Loss:   8 lbs  WOO HOO!

It just goes to show that persistence pays off.  If you’ve set a goal that seems difficult to achieve, don’t give up.  Keep your focus and stay determined.   You’ll get there. 

So many of you wrote me emails over the last two weeks asking what I am doing to lose the pounds, exactly.  Don’t forget that the first week of my diet is posted on my website for all to see.  Check it out.

Have you instigated your own “challenge” lately?  Are you trying to achieve a goal in an area of your life?  Hit reply to post and talk about it!  Be comfortable in your own skin, and have a wonderful week!

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Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious

Krispy Creme and a Bag o’ Chips!

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Okay – so I’m not perfect.  Yep I ate ’em.  I ate an entire single serving bag of Lays Potato Chips and two (count ’em, TWO) Krispy Creme Donuts last night, right before bed.  That doesn’t count the half a bottle of red wine and vodka martini I drank throughout the course of my seven hour evening.  Lesson learned?  Don’t drink and diet. Ha!

If this is your first time stopping by Ms. Cheevious’ blog, welcome.  We’re in the midst of a weight loss challenge.  You’d never know it would you?  This week I am traveling, so the post is brief and to the point – but let’s face it.  It’s all part of the journey.  If you’d like to see how this challenge began, go to the first post in this series:  I’m a Thin, Light, Lean Mean Machine Don’tcha Know? You’ll get an idea of what’s going on in here. It’s mayhem, I tell you. Pure mayhem.

As to my recent reckless indulgence? No excuses.  It was the end to a very tiring week of travel, conferences, and being “on” 24/7.  What made it even more difficult was that my futile attempts at staying on course (which actually were not futile until last night) were met with comments like “You don’t even have anything on you to pinch!” or “You will blow away!”  Which is ridiculous.  I could wrestle any of them to the ground in about three seconds flat and hold them there as long as I wanted – except for that  little thing.  That tiny little morsel of truth that rears its ugly head just before you grab the other person, slam them to the floor and sit on them, holding them there until they cry uncle (I know you are asking how I conjured up such a vivid description, when little ole me could never do something so “manly.” Think Daisy Duke.  It’s in all of us.  Females all have a little Daisy Duke, even if it’s buried under generations of frumpiness).  It’s that eency weency bit of wisdom that stops you and informs you that “they” probably wouldn’t be too into being wrestled to the ground (not that I am.  No really, I’m not. I swear). 

I am writing from the road to say “All is fair in love and war. And healthy eating.”  Some more personal favorites: “Nobody is perfect,” “You never know what’s coming around the corner,” and “Life is What You Make of It.”  Oh, and another great one: “No one gets out of this alive.” How’s that for a golden nugget?

“Nobody is perfect” is important though.  It is not just a little adage for the day, to post over your work station. It’s the truth.  I am certainly not perfect.  Still, I try.  Don’t you stop trying, either.  Let’s all continue in our delusional states, shall we?  Ignorance is Bliss. Okay, enough of the cheesy cliches.

But, when ya’ gotta have that raspberry filled Krispy Creme Donut, even though you NEVER eat them when you are sane, ya’ just gotta have it.  You know what I mean? HA!

I’ll weigh in and resume my pristine, precise and orderly communication next week.  But here is to YOU.  It’s a bumpy road out there with long, winding turns, and only those who can maneuver with finesse will succeed while surviving those twists and turns! You can do this thing called life, and you can do it with incredible success.  I know I can, and will – dammit.  So, enjoy the rest of your week!

xoxo – Ms. Cheevious  

OH!  PS) I lost two more pounds after last week’s post.  I’m sure I gained them back this week, but stay tuned.  I’ll let you know more of how I battled my way into my summer suit and became king of the hill next week.  Also, I’m about to provide my entire eating regime over the last few weeks so you can see how it really comes together!  I’m excited for what’s in store! Again – Here’s to YOU!!

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Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious