Ruth Coe Chambers

And there is much in the news, but for things that have caught my eye:

Bernie Madoff, The Man of Steal, is having his mettle tested. Pun intended.

Members of South Carolina's first family, tired of crying for Argentina, are returning to the home place in Charleston.

Sarah, wink wink - nudge nudge, Palin signals she'd rather shoot a wolf than be a lame duck.

Michelle--the arms have it--Obama continues to dazzle with her unique fashion sense. A lovely First Lady.

Former President Bill Clinton's true colors shine through his diplomacy in securing N. Korean pardons for Euna Lee and Laura Ling

I don't envy Michelle Obama her First Lady status, nor her marriage to that cool guy we call Mr. President, not even her Pennsylvania Ave. address--Neptune Beach suits me. I do, however, envy her ability to wear sleeveless dresses. Oh how I envy that! She has arms and shoulders to die for.

When (more…)

Why is it I feel too full when I'm hungry? Yep. That's me, afraid to get on the scale. I had a scare the other night. I decided to go to my not/summer/not winter p.j.'s made of soft cotton. I put on the top, which was fine. I struggled to pull on the pants. I do mean struggled. They fit like a leotard, size petite small. I wondered how I could sleep in them. I wondered how this could this have happened since I'd worn them a few nights before? I kept checking the hem to see that it matched the top, and believe me, it wasn't easy to bend over to feel the hem! No lace, but there were tucks so they must match. I saw I'd taken the drawstring out, yet they stayed up. Talk about feeling too full. I felt ill, but hungry. I had a wonderful chocolate bar from Starbucks in the pantry that kept calling to me. I vowed that rather than break my left shoulder (I lost 22 lbs when I broke the right one) I'd go on a diet--as soon as I finished that chocolate bar. I looked at the bathroom scale and knew I could climb Mt. Everest easier than step onto the thing. Then I got smart. I went back to the bedroom, opened the drawer, and there were the pants that matched my p.j. top! Lace and tucks! But where had the too small pair come from? I had no memory of them, no idea what the top might look like. Then it hit me; God put them there. Who is more interested in my body weight than God! He was sending me a message from His blue heaven.

He sent me another message recently. Salon.com came out with Is My Butt Too Fat. Honest, at first I thought He was talking about Michelle Obama. I had read an article on Salon about her bootie several weeks earlier. But God knows Michelle Obama isn’t fat. What was I thinking? Sure enough, this was Salon talking about a book by Kate Harding, who insists she is fat. Even her blog insists she’s fat, and don’t we always believe blogs? I read an excerpt. Really humorous, and then through her God put words in my mouth to describe my senior citizen body. I'm not fat (a kind daughter says, "Well, maybe pleasingly plump?") I'm a big thin person. Maybe I won't have to go on a diet after all.

Ruth