Slipping through the looking glass

Something caught me by surprise today. I've lost 27 pounds.

You are probably wondering how this caught me by surprise. Well, it did Alice and I'm not sure whose body this is.

I've been overweight since kindergarten. Unpleasant names to cutting comments, I've been "rubinesque" forever. Eventually, I embraced my bodacious bod and began tweaking my self-image to include extra B's (boob, belly and butt). I even learned to love myself. *gasp*

I'm not a career dieter. I sometimes experiment, but I've always been non-committal. My mother is convinced that I lost a few pounds on a diet with her when I was 16. It must have been significant because I've blocked it from memory.

I was raised on fast food--Big Macs, White Castles and Imo's pizza. In my 20's, I learned to cook and ate much healthier. In my 30's, I discovered activities like gardening, step aerobics and of course, belly dancing. But, I never dropped much weight.

A few weeks ago, Weight Watchers came to my office. The rally call came--join the weekly meeting. NO WAY! I'm anti-diet and it cost too much. But when the second session came up and I became inspired by the success of a co-worker, three more of us signed up.

I signed the check and went to the first meeting. Then, I bitched all the way home. I pitched a full out 3-year-old fit. I think I may have even pounded my fists on my friend’s dashboard. I'm not always open to suggestion.

I turned the whole flex point diet into a game and played "how many points is this?" with my coworkers. I didn't really expect results. Just like my college experience when I went to school because I loved it. Eventually, I had 42 hours with a 4.0 before I realized what that meant. This diet has been equally surprising.

Suddenly, I'm facing the possibility of actually achieving a goal I've had for 30 years. I used to say, "If I could just lose this weight, everything would be perfect." Well, I finally stopped believing that and suddenly I’m wearing some fat girl’s pants.

I feel like I woke up under a mushroom and a Cheshire cat just winked at me.

A Prairie Home Companion finds its voice on film

The compelling quality of radio is that it is perhaps the most intimate experience a person can have... next to marriage.

For nearly 15 years, I have scrubbed the tub, folded laundry, and pulled the weeds alone while listening to Garrison Keillor's tales of Guy Noir, Dusty and Lefty, and Lake Woebegone. This evening, I watched A Prairie Home Companion in a theatre filled with people who knew the theme song and got the jokes. It was almost like a meeting of the Secret Brotherhood of the Chatterbox Cafe.

PHC is complete. Completely funny. Completely melancholy. Completely engaging. The stage is set with the romantic accoutrements of a live radio show. Most fantastic are the performances of Kevin Kline, Meryl Streep, Lilly Tomlin, Tommy Lee Jones, Virginia Madson, Woody Harrelson, John C. Reilly, and dare I admit it, Lindsey Lohan. And there are secret gems. Names you'll only know if you've listened to the live show. Names like Sue Scott, Tim Russell and Tom Keith.

As an avid listener, I tried to reign in my expectations. A movie can never fully imitate what you imagine. But, PHC invites your expectations. It gracefully maneuvers where others only clod. The grounding element is the man himself, Garrison Keillor.

This films unique quality is that it fosters and nurtures its best asset, that soft-spoken, unshakeable, dry wit that is the Keillor voice. The medium changed. The characters came to life. A camera moved in for a close up. But Keillor remained the unassuming storyteller who merely weaves his way through his last show—just another Prairie Home Companion.

As the final credits rolled, I realized that there was not a single poor performance, not a plot line I didn't buy or scene that didn't fit. And even more exciting is the pleasure of being well entertained by a movie as satifying as the radio show.