Happy! Happy! Perfect! Joy! Joy!

I popped out of bed as the sunshine creeped onto our bedside. I looked over, as much as I wanted to jab my husband like a pesky insect to wake up and enjoy the day, I decided to leave him be. Plus, it was seven thirty in the morning. I lounged on our bedroom deck as the glee began to take its toll. From where I sat, the San Francisco bay was as calm as my soul. I felt special. I was happy! I am blessed. I am grateful for the love and aloha that burns inside me and surrounds me everyday.

Life was simple and my mind was clear. I do not find the need for a pair of shoes, or to pork out on double dutch strawberry chocolate chip pancakes, or a glass of bubbly, or to feel that I have to travel the globe. I am content. It is a good day to be alive.

I wanted to share this goodness with friends by inviting them over for a barbecue. It was the perfect day for it! Our backyard awaited good company, good conversation to this carefree life.

Shellie's Proverb: Best eat rice porridge when hot.
Shane perked out of bed and was business as usual. He slipped on his garden gloves and began to deweed the backyard. He made certain that our home was in tip top shape to welcome loved ones. In his obsessive compulsive madness, he proceeds to saw down a dead tree in our front yard. My man was on a sweaty rampage, but I like it!

We sat in the backyard relishing every moment of the heat. We chased the sun until the sun created more shadows. After a marvelously radiant day surrounded by friends and delicious food, Sunday gently came to an end. We went to bed with the sliding door open and allowed the warm wind to seep into our bedroom. Today was a perfect day.

Lesson: A blessed Grasshopper is one with limbs in tact, brain in check, and a heart of love.

Weight a minute!

My bed habit remains dire, but definitely not a damper in my diaper. Please note that bed habit should not be mistaken for "bed prowess". If you must ask, bed prowess is 100 beats per minute.

In the meantime, spring has not peeked it's dewey head into my life, but I guess it's time to turn over a new leaf. I signed up for weight watchers today. I know, have a half a grape on a triscuit for dinner! Alright cackle club, keep it down in the back row. In fact, I signed up online, and it's a decent barometer. Jill, my sister in law, swears by it. She is a true testament to weight loss, she dropped 16 pounds in a few months. Of course, her weight loss could contribute to being on her feet all day as a nurse and walking home. Unlike my laggard narcoleptic buns that hunkers in front of a computer all day.

I just need to switch it up. A reassessment. In fact, I just realized how many points my damn Wullaby yogurt is! A whole 4 points. Why has my yogurt forsaken me? Gulp and double gulp. Good fat or bad fat, it's still fat.

So embarassment aside, I am excited to be a member of weight watchers. I mean, I thought it was a whiny cult consisting of individuals with thyroid dysfunction seeking pity from peers. I thought it was a gimmick like Richard Simmons and his short shorts. I was sorely wrong! On behalf of my judgemental mind, I apologize for my prejudice. Hey back row! Keep your cackles to yourself.

Today's mantra: Must not eat evil creamy yummy wonderful organic Wullaby. Whah!

Queen Turd

I am a five star turd nerd. The true crap master. The wife that holds the septic septor. God save this Queen!

I am not one to make the bed. I never was. Well. I go through phases. Just like my menstrual, it comes once a month give or take three to four days. I must admit, I try my best. I'm the first to jump out of bed, therefore, the last one out is a rotten egg!

There's nothing like sinking in to a comfortable bed, so what is my mini gripe? Well, Shane's beginning to take on my lack of bed making habit. Shucks! My man makes up a bed like nobody's business! There's nothing like slipping into a bed at the end of the day that felt like a four seasons maid went fastidious crazy on. It's like a warm cup of chamomile wrapped in silk, I mean an eight hundred egyptian threadcount loses it's exquisiteness when it's crumpled at the foot of the bed.

Besides having a dreamy husband, I've just been spoiled with Shane's meticulous work. See Shane's a perfectionist, rich in detail and pride, when it comes to anything that he does. Certainly, it's not a trait that makes this marraige cohesive, but it's a rare commodity not to mention a pleasant amenity. Just imagine a world with no toilet paper. Well, I'll retract that, don't. What I'm trying to say is that, this wife refuses to lie in the bed that she made so unkempt.

Today's mantra: Make your bed you lazy b#tch!

I'm Alive!

I was feeling empty. I was feeling low. There was a hole in the third dimension and my lowly soul was being zapped into it's dark vortex.

Just when I was going to call it quits with the dull razor to my wrist, a bright burst of light filled the house. I must admit, I thought I was dead. Through the slats of the curtains the sunburst was at the horizon, my heart skipped a beat. After many ruthless days and nights of ungodly rain, from the gray heavens came the healthy yolk of sunshine! The gods have forgiven the unsightly sinners. My blood began to flow. I could feel my pulse again! I could breathe! I was back in action Jackson! Bipolar anyone?

After years as an A+ loser, in my heart of hearts, I felt like a winner. Thank you sunshine for lighting up my life.

Lesson: A strong grasshopper never falls prey to the shifting climate of oneself.

First new steps

Definitely exciting time for us! Shane is getting ready to launch his own business in a few weeks. He's going for his contractor's license. He has worked with his Uncle John for a decade and some years. I am so proud to see him embark on a new venture. He, on the otherhand, not so confident. His concern skirts many issues - most importantly - change. Personally, I heart change. Change is ace. Change is enriching. A fresh start. New soil. I look foward to taking that plunge into icy water. Chill. Shrinkage. Brrrr.

I would like to put the limelight on the people in our lives and how we are truly blessed. It is unique to have such love and support envelope our lives. A shout out from the Cuccina's to Uncle John and Aunt Nyra for extending great opportunities our way.

Lesson: A short sighted grasshopper is one that sets fire to his bridges and realizes he has no one to drown with.

Drencher

Start building your ark, because it's coming down baby! Yes, it's been raining for straight weeks now and the depression is starting to set it's claws. I don't mind the rain one bit. I mean coming from Hawaii, this is a treat. As a rule of thumb, I brighten my day with a loud piece of wardrobe such as the lime green cashmere cardigan that's keeping me snug.

The rain has been causing a lot of distress on many. I myself would rather live through rain than a drought. Take advantage of this weather and cuddle up to a good book and a warm cup of chamomile tea. If your feeling mighty feisty, grab your snowboard and head up to Tahoe. If you get bored, pick up your needles and knit a nice scarf. Invite a friend over for a game of chess. Host a dinner party with a nice warm stew and wine. There's lots of things you can do besides mourn the absence of sunshine. So hold on to your booties, the forecast for the next two weeks is rain.

Lesson: A carefree grasshopper who cartwheels in fresh filth is always happy.

The real truth...

Can I just say that we experienced our first freak mingling with parental degredation. We attended our next door neighbors two year old birthday party and talk about snobs. Besides our sweet neighbors, the other parents were creepy. Stepford creepy. The first question, "Do you have children?" When we responded with a simple "no" and proud about it. We were given the smug treatment. What's up with that?

I was quite perturbed. Irrirated. My first experience with childless discrimination. Not only is it tacky for parents to showcase their child, but it's so cold. Sure be proud, but don't be a self righteous schmuck. How tall is your child? How many months is your child? Her motor skills are so advanced. Pukarama! The dads looked beat down. The mom's were vainglorious. I tried my best to socialize, but it was a circus.

I made Shane swear that we never turn into these yuppie parents that has lost themselves in the goodness of their children, gutted like a dead fish. Is there a way of avoiding this type of behavior? Are we as individuals making up for what we lacked as a child? If so, when is it too much? Is there a balance? Thus, I do not subscribe to the "give your children what they want" philosphy. You could invest in the best philosphy of childraising, hence it does not guarantee that children will result correct. There is no such thing as perfect. I am especially proud of how Shane and I were raised. We take from our parents the sense and goodness and will make it our own.

Lesson: Grasshopper should allow loved ones to rule hearts, but not the television remote control.

Current Events

Besides boxing, snowboarding and the lousy car incident, married life is nifty. It is free range, organic and uncaged. There is no new business to report thus far.

Current events:
Fashion paraphernalia – 50%
Neatness – 30%
Cigarettes – 0%
Smiling – 110%
Laughing – 110%
Hugs and kisses – 110%
Whoopie – none of your business
Happiness - Infinity

Lesson: A feisty Grasshopper must learn to slice with dull chopstick before gaining the respect of sensei ginsu.

cUrsed! Rats!!!!

It was the night afore, when I made the big mistake of jumping on the scale. Why? I thought that I was making progress. I mean with my loose fit clothes and all. Not to mention, working out 4 to 5 times a week like a schizy on meds. Well, the scale tells no lie. I am now 131 as opposed to 115. What the phhhhh!!!!!!!!!! Currently, I am scraping the hallways of my mind like a lost lunatic.

Listen, I know that muscle is heavier than fat, but come the flippin’ on. Not only that, I’ve completely cut down on my alcohol intake to a complete null, a worthless zero. Furthermore, after reading up on sugar content of champagne is complete potty, I kicked my bubbly consort to the curb. Finally, I’ve been eating small meals a day which entail raw greens, fish and crap. Boggled minds are scrambling searching for a scientific reason...no, I’m not a closet saccharine shyster, I despise the sin. I drink so much water that I give the can more play than a bulimic. And, this is how my body repays me? Rats! I have crucified my lifestyle just to see myself gain? It’s discouraging to know that I’ve busted my ass to see that I have digressed. I mean does weight really matter when it comes to muscle? Hell effen yes, it certainly does.

I am driven, drive, drive, drive to switch it up! It's called attacking Potrero hills by storm at sunrise. At my age, metabolism needs a fine kick in the rear. I have the next six months before it’s go time for a baby and gosh darnit I just wanna be in the best shape.

Lesson: A strapping grasshopper can not live on lawn and bugs alone.

Blood n Guts

We went to the first night of the San Francisco Golden Gloves on Tuesday, and I tell you what? It was so electric, that I went on Wednesday! If I had it my way, I would have gone the consecutive five days. Subsequent to my first experience with a live knockout, I'm like an addict longing for more rock. I was certain that it was a brainless sport, considering that constant brain shaking. But, I have been proven wrong once more. There is more medulla oblongata than meets the eye. Although it’s amateur boxing, still it fleas any sport. I wish I discovered this sport a long time ago. I feel like I’ve been asleep all my life. Once again, I've been shafted.

Flashback: September 29, 1977, world heavyweight Ali vs. Shavers dad ate, drank, crapped, spat boxing. No one was allowed to speak, much less breath, during the fights on television. I awoken the wrath of dad fueled by disobedience, he utilized his fists to silence my silly plight with my sibling. I understand that it was the only outlet he had away from his ten children and mom. It was his only pleasure that brought him happiness well next to mom, of course. Because of his outlet, it fused a hatred for boxing for decades.

I have never felt such a sense of satisfaction. It is my nucleus to my all. I’m happy that my form of meditation and serenity allows such raw exertion. Perhaps, Shane is ecstatic he has had to avoid dealing with a wife that needs much minding (not that there was any problem in that department to start off with).

Lesson: A witless grasshopper is one that resurrects his plastic spoonful of aspect before burying the golden spurn.

Merely a scratch

In two days, Shane was back at the boxing gym. The back of his head decorated with staples it ached me to look at them. He found that the staples contributed to his fresh and found “rugged” demeanor. As long as he is healthy and normal, than let there be staples and grit.

Still at night as he sleeps, I can’t help to think that somewhere in his head there’s a piece the doctor’s missed. I am paranoid that he may not awake from sleep. Yes, of course, I’m paranoid! Blatantly and outrageously paranoid! It’s difficult when my love grows every day and I just can’t fathom being without him. Crap, I've just stumbled on my newfound wife worry. Good lord what next, picking up the dry cleaning and a grocery list? Smile. It could be worse.

Lesson: A grasshopper with no guts does not deserve a tv dinner.

Luck vs. Fate

I received a phone call from Shane. He had just been rear ended on Bay and Larkin and the back of his head was bleeding. As I sat at my desk, my eyes swelled with tears, and my head swirled with all sorts of horrific tantrums. All I wanted to do is breakdown and cry, I prayed that he would be okay. I hoped and prayed that he would be the same person that sang to me that same morning. The same man that tries to grab my attention by dancing in the middle of the living room during my favorite show. Please, let him be okay. I prayed to the ears that had the right to his destiny.

Fortunately, he suffered minimum damage to the back of his head. He walked away from the wreck absent of concussion and headache. I thanked the angel that was responsible for this strike of luck.

There is a daily ritual that I practice. I make sure I tell him how much I love him. In that way, I will not live in regret of what we have no control over. The future holds the upper hand to our fate. I am greatful and certainly thankful for the richness of our love and happiness.

Lesson: Grasshopper should always remember that luck shadows humbleness.

Snow Day

Hi Ho! Hi Ho! It’s off to the mountains we go. La-la-la-la la-la-la-. This season has been terrible for snow. Fortunately, all of you can stop your chanting and praying for snow. Hey! You over there, slowly put your rosary down and go easy on the hail marys.

It’s Angela and KJ’s birthday this Sunday so we’re heading to North Shore for a weekend in the powder. I’m so excited to get out of the city with a bunch of my peeps. I feel that everyone and their dawg are heading there as well, so I must be prepared for the weighty drive. I suck at snowboarding. Shane and his crew are shredmeisters. Me, I'm just a slopmeister. There was a boxing match that I wanted to catch over at our gym. I guess it's only healthy to tear myself away from my passion for a couple days. Snow, here I come! Boxing withdrawals, keep your distance!

Lesson: A Grasshopper can not live on grass and monotony alone.

Splice of Life

So for now, the baby train has been derailed for another year. Gasp. Did the room just go silent? Did someone just drop a dish in the kitchen? Did a woman’s water just break? Quickly, grab a paper bag and breath. Listen, I’m not getting any younger, but for once, my body is in the best shape ever! I’m shedding more weight than a pig in a sauna. I can hear my mom, “shame, tsk, shame, tsk.” Selfish is what I like to call it. I can’t help it, I love being healthy aka not to be mistaken with slender. If I have a child now, it’ll always be about the child and I’m just damn frightful. Certainly, I’ll love our child, but I’m just apprehensive of making that move that will forever switch my way of life. I think to be a parent is to be selfless. Damnit, I’m just feeling like 2006 is a year of self improvement; the bondo of the mind and the body.

Positively, most of my friends with kids have definitely bounced back to slim, but unfortunately my genetics are -to put it lightly- ghastly. I just pray subsequent to baby that I am able to return to the gym and fight the good fight against fat. I want to be all about the baby, but I want to look good too. I guess the older I get, the less resilient this body grows. I had no idea that my vanity was so strident. It’s all a blunder. On a sour note, I would like to digress that I can’t believe all the money I invested in a personal trainer last year. Indeed, I got extremely strong, but my pouch was always there to break me down. That pouch began to seed the thought that maybe I was part marsupial. Gals, if you wanna get nice and fit quickly, one word, box.

Lesson: A doltish Grasshopper is one that preaches about his enlightenment.

My new love

Since boxing, the flames have consumed every aspect of our lives. Who would have thunk? Not I. That’s all we squawk about. We love it so much that we’ve recruited Kurt, Darren and Sophia in hopes that they too will fall in love. Irritating right? Pathetic. It’s so pathetic that we practice our combinations in our living room. Oops, did I let the frog just jump out of the pond? Giggle. It’s such a gritty sport. It’s violent, but so eloquent. What is it about the jab, cross, upper, hook, double jab and concussions? I don’t know, but I scream, “give me more goshdarnit!” We head towards Third Street Gym for the 5:45pm class. First of all, we stopped pairing off with each other, because that is just plain mental and retarded. Just ‘cause we’re married, doesn’t mean we have to do everything together. Kidding. Not really, giggle. By the way, we’re not doing this as a marriage counseling gig. Not yet. Smile.

I purchased my first pair of boxing shoes! I am psyched! We’ve been going four to five days a week, like psychotic animals, we just keep going back for more pain. I have fallen in love. Blush. It has curved my way of life. It has added this “oomph” in my soul. We cut down on drinking and we’re watching what we eat. I’ve incorporated healthy greens like kale (my fav), swiss chard, hydrocress into our daily diet. I even cut champagne, my little bubbly sidekick, from my repertoire. I know, what pathetic people we’ve become, but it doesn’t mean that we’ve stopped living. Haha. On the contrary, that’s what weekend brunch is for. Yeeha! I’ve heard a few snarls from family members questioning our marriage, because of the alcohol intake at our wedding. Pointy fingers, we know who you are. Ahem, it was our wedding. I guess the bride and groom are supposed to sip mineral water instead. Well you sober minded people can sit back down and take a chill pill. By the way, alcohol gets such a bad rap. Whassup? Prohibition much? Sorry for the tangent.

Lesson: A grasshopper that sits in silence while prey attacks is one that does not use his brain.

Smile

We’ve reached our half year mark. Six months. The point five. If only I could pluck the wings from time. We have yet to finish our thank you cards. We’ve done most of them, except that we’ve lost our check off list and can’t remember who we’ve sent them to. We have not weeded through our wedding photos. I have not boxed my wedding dress. We’re just terrible, terrible newlyweds. Honeymoon date undecided, but the destination is Paris and Rome.

We’ve come a long way since our wedding. A new job. A new name. A new home. A new neighborhood. A new lifestyle. A new car. Anew.

It was a normal day. We were sticky and dirty from boxing. I made a fresh pear mache salad to start and followed with roasted perch and garlic kale. He wished me a happy six month anniversary with a smile. I couldn’t believe that he remembered. That’s why he’s my sweetest of the sweets.

So step off you feeble minded skeptics and pessimists, all is in bliss in Kitchenville.

LESSON: Little grasshopper must remember there is big meaning when preserving small words in a glass jar.

Cough. Hack. Spit.

I took it easy on Saturday as a mild cold and allergies took homage in my body. I tried to push hard to get to my boxing class, but my friendly cold and allergies were holding a parade in my chest that had me coughing up some fun friends.
In the past, I'd push my deathful body to an hour's worth of exercises than follow with a series of homemade spicy ginger tea, that always resuscitates health back into my frail body. Mind over matter, I keep reminding myself. Most of the time, it works like a charm. Besides, I detest stewing in my germs. It’s foul! Normal people are held hostage to their bed, blanket, tissue box, and television. Yuckee.

Flashback: December 20, 1984, the flu virus had attempted a successful coup on my immune system. As I shivered in hot and cold sweat, my brother Steven swathed me in my comforter and plucked me from bed. He had just finished the Christmas decorations on our house. Across the street, my family waited for me to enjoy the festive decorations. Lights, Santa, Action! As my brother held me on his back, we adored our home that twinkled with the Christmas spirit with "ooohs and aaahs". For a second there, my sickness dwindled into a smile, laughter and glee. Christmas coincidence or a Christmas miracle, either way it was mind over matter.

As my bones shivered and my body fell further prey, I was not going to let it win. I was not going to lay on this couch while the sun blared in my face as I sat pathetically on the couch watching television surrounded by a flurry of dirty tissues! I proceeded to do the nonsensical and drive. As incoherent as possible, I got in the car and drove myself to Pharmeca, my friendly holistic store, to the end all of this ailment nonsense. I drove to Cole Valley picked up my herbal meds and was so excited to get a loaf of brioche from the french bakery on the corner. I was still miserable, but it was nice to get fresh air into this stale body. It felt good. The drive did me well, I could feel the need for a pedicure. In fact, my heart was doing the jump and jive at the idea of shopping.

In case you were wondering, where is Shane through all this? My dear husband had a 10:50am tee time in halfmoon bay.

LESSON: A sagacious grasshopper is one that escapes an army of fire ants by kung fu grip.

Exhausted

I hate squat thrusts!!!!!!! I’d rather stab a bag of rusty nails into my eyeballs!!! Why oh Why? I loathe. Loathe. LOATHE!!! Squat thrusts sucks Godzilla’s buttocks ten times over.

I know the whole point to exercising is for fit and health reasons, but good lord on a popsicle stick does it really have to be that painful? Today, I'm in great pain and I would like to exclaim to everyone, "THANK GOD FOR FRIDAY!" Now butler, bring me my bib and wheelchair quickly.

Lesson: When Grasshopper can walk uphill on rice paper and place no tear, than you may eat from the rice bowl.

Free yourself!

Wondering how my progress with hip hop classes are going? Unfortunately, my fickle heart has moved forward. Boxing. Ah yes, the wonderful world of endurance, punch combinations, fancy foot shuffle and concussions. For as much as I enjoyed dancing, I was missing that “umph” that “kaboom”! Hip hop was like sex without the orgasm. I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, but never gained anything tangible. It’s been almost a month and I’m noticing differences in my attitude and body. Fit world roll out your red carpet, enters the princess to heed her throne.

Flashback: I was eight in the summer of ’79. Put these gloves on you lazy bums! Dad, a former boxer in the marines, lived and breathed for boxing. Nolan, my younger brother, jumped around as he was convinced this fight was tucked under his belt. I, on the otherhand, was certain that KO was just a few combinations away. My other six brothers bickered and yelled and traded dollar bills as the neighbors took their front row seat on our lawn. I couldn't recall the stupidity behind our argument that occurred fifteen minutes ago! At dad’s command, Nolan’s jabs entered my zone like rapid fire and in my furious, but weak attempt to defend myself, it was always the same fight. I sat in the black corner – consciously subconscious. Dad never coarsed us through the strategy of the sport. We were mere entertainment, and it was a reason for discipline. I forever cursed boxing.

As usual, my life consists of different shades of whims and flights. I was in the search for something different. I was hungry for a direction uncouth and physical. A route that took me away from meditation and the dull "om". There it was Third Street Gym! A mighty gritty world. Raw. Dirty. Voltaic! Can I stick to boxing? Do priests play frisky with their alter boys? Who knows. If I am provided an objective, than I will seek that goal.

I’m just over the idea of trying to heal my body exclusively from the inside out. I’m all about the new age hippy health organic movement, but godamnit! I want to feel my motivation aching through my muscles in pains and jolts. I will never compete as a boxer, because I’m just too much of a chica (well than again I shouldn't say never), but I do enjoy the strategy and the art of boxing like no other I have felt.

This is dedicated to my dad who I have come to respect and understand his passion and love for boxing.

Lesson: A grasshopper is only modest when he does not revel in the height of his jump.

Heart to Heart

It’s that time of year again when the female species expectations shoot through the roof and the males cower to make sure all is as expected. For some, today is a let down, a dissapointment. February 14th, the day the price of a dozen roses is more than my car payment. Where are the lost days of a simple card filled with love and good wishes? Valentines Day has turned into a shoe box of roses, balloons, chocolates, jewelry and pre-fixed dinner menus.

All in vain of St. Valentine, yet who is this mysterious masked villain and why do we celebrate this holiday?

Legend #1: Valentine sent the first "valentine" greeting. While in prison, it is believed that Valentine had the hots for a hotsy totsy -- who was the jailor's daughter, who visited him during his confinement. Before his death, it is alleged that he wrote her a letter, which he signed "From your Valentine."

Legend #2: This legend contends that Valentine, a priest who served during the third century in Rome during the reign of Emperor Claudius II. The Emperor decided that single men made bad ass soldiers than those with wives and families, hence outlawed marriage for young men. Valentine, realizing that this is whacked, defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young lovers on the DL aka Down Low. When Valentine's got the 411 on Valentine's actions, Emporor C ordered a cap in his ass.

Like Christmas and Thanksgiving, today is a very lonely day for many. I have been victimized by this vicious holiday for many years until I realized that it wasn’t the holiday, but me. It is good to feel loved and wanted, not by a lover, boyfriend/girlfriend or husband/wife, but by friends and family.

If you want to make today special, pick up the phone and call your parents and wish them a Happy St. Valentines day. Perhaps, a dear friend who could use a warm smile today. These are just a few suggestions that are more heroic than a box of chocolates.

I phoned my mom who is thousands of miles away and wished her a Happy St. Valentines day. That, my friends, is what St. Valentine would have done.

Lesson: To become wise grasshopper, one must learn how to give and expect nothing in return.