The skinny about (my) fat

Once upon a time, through no fault (or merit) of my own, I was a thin person.


Actually, at the age of oh...22 or so I had a ROCKIN' HOT body.

Acid washed jeans and ankle boots aside, I love this picture.  Did I have an adult beverage in my right hand throughout the entire decade of the 90s?  Photographic evidence points to "yes."

 
Then I got fat.


I wish I had a good reason to put here for why I got fat.  For awhile...about 15 years ago, I went to Weight Watchers meetings and heard all kinds of reasons for getting fat.  From physical...like thyroid problems and low metabolism...to psychological...like "eating your feelings" and stress eating, etc.  Here's the truth behind my weight gain:


1. I like to eat food that tastes good.  Sadly, good-tasting food is usually high in fat and/or calories.  That's why it TASTES good.


2. Unless I can pretty much count on an orgasm at the end of it...I do not like activities that make me sweat.


That is it.  Period.  I was not suffering from self-esteem issues.  I was not compensating because I was never my mother's favorite.  I did not equate food with love.


I was simply taking in more calories than I was expending.  And I did it for 24+ years.

Now, I would like to point out that at no point was I hating my life.  In the picture above?  The project that I had been working on for the past 10 years of my life was being inducted into the Alabama Engineering Hall of Fame.  I was part of that because I am a damn good engineer.

I have a husband that I love.  We have a beautiful daughter.  We live in a nice house.  I love my job and my friends and my family and my pets.  And even at my heaviest, when I was tipping the scales at over 250 pounds (how much over...that's between me and my doctor) I didn't hate the way I looked.  I knew that I was overweight...but I never considered myself in the gag-a-goat ugly category because of it.

Did I wish I weighed less?  Yes.

Did I wish it enough to not eat whatever whenever I wanted it?

Did I wish it enough to go to the gym and sweat consistently?

Negative Ghost Rider...the pattern is full.

So I kept right on going...until I went too far.

That extra poundage was taking a toll on my health.

I had sleep apnea, high blood pressure and gastroesophageal reflux disease of Biblical proportions.

That last one led me to Dr. Black.  I HAD to have a Nissen procedure.  And he recommended I have a gastric sleeve procedure as well.  Because I was fat.  Too fat.  Life-shortening fat.  Dr. Black is a fantastic doctor...but he's not gonna pull any punches and pat your head and tell you it's okay because you still have a pretty face.

But then again, I still had my two basic problems...love of good food and hate of non-orgasmic physical activities.  Wasn't I just gonna end up where I started?

Well...happily, when they go in and cut out a large portion of your stomach...they cut out the section that produces the hormones that tell you that you are hungry.  Also...and the "why" of this was never really explained to me...your tastes change.  I still want what I want...but what I want is now different.  Fried and dough-y foods make me cringe now.  I used to LOVE bread...now?  Meh.  Fruits and veggies taste better now.  No lie.

As far as exercise...for the first six weeks, the injunction was: "Walk or you'll get a blood clot that will kill you."  Soooo...that was motivation.  I do hate to sweat...but I hate to die even worse.

A friend of mine had this on his Facebook feed:

After the 6 weeks?  "Exercise or you will have great big rolls of extra skin that you will have to have a painful surgery to get rid of."  Anyone who knows me knows that I am a wienie.  A big ole chicken wienie.  I don't like pain or stitches or drain tubes or any of that.  20 minutes a day on a treadmill for pain avoidance?  Done. 

And so far?  I am headed in the right direction:



Picture on the left is of my daughter's BFF (and my practically adopted second daughter)...it was taken just days before the surgery.  The one on the right was taken 2 months post op.



I have to tell you... I feel great.  My sleep is SO much better.  The apnea thing is long gone and I haven't had heartburn at all.  My energy levels are fantastic (partly from not lugging around the 48 pounds that I've lost so far...partly from getting a decent night's sleep).

And I can't lie...I'm pretty excited about the fact that I am ALMOST at the point where I can shop in the regular section and not in the "Plus" section (usually the three racks over by the bathroom/customer service area).

It's a bit embarrassing to just throw it out there that I let myself get so far out of hand.  It's embarrassing to admit that I couldn't get myself back IN hand without help.  But there it is.  I got too fat and I needed help to get un-fat.

This is really one of the nicest things I've ever done for myself.  Wish me luck on the rest of the journey...

Septuagenarian Sex Scandal: Southern Style

During this political season, I'd like to remind everyone that NO ONE does a political sex scandal like we do them in the south.

Last week, we had a prime example.

I. AM. NOT. MAKING. ANY. OF. THIS. UP.

Meet Benny:

Is it just me, or does Benny look like Alfred after a long night out partying with Master Bruce?

Benny is 71.  He was co-host of a local public access political program called "In the Interest of the People."

This is Larry and Charlotte:

Larry is Benny's best friend.  Additionally, he is the mayor.  He is 74 years old.  To Larry's left is Charlotte...she's Benny's wife.  She would co-host in Benny's place sometimes when Benny was too busy for "In the Interest of the People."  She is also a local business owner.

Apparently, Benny was a little worried about his dear wife working all of the late hours that she was working at the little ole shop she owned...a liquor store.  Also, I'm sure he was also concerned that something would happen to his good friend Mayor Larry, who often did the books for Charlotte.  So he installed a camera.

I guess in the little town of Talladega, AL, "doing the books" is code for what Shakespeare called, "Making the beast with two backs." (Shakespeare really said that...look it up.)  Someone who has seen the video told the local newspaper that the activities recorded were "full blown"  (hahah, full blown...snort) and "gives me hope for when I'm 70."

In a surprise to no one, Benny and Charlotte filed for divorce.  Benny also decided to quit co-hosting "In the Interest of the People."

Evidently, withdrawing his talent and wit from "In the Interest of the People" was not enough vengeance for Beny.  So last Saturday, Benny road a bicycle over 13 miles in August in Alabama where it is approximately 112 degrees in the shade to lie in wait for Larry outside of the place where Larry cuts hair as a part-time job when he isn't busy mayoring. (Still not making it up).  When Larry arrived to begin his day of hair cutting and styling, Benny jumped him and commenced to whaling on Larry with an object that resembled a sawed-off baseball bat.  (That's what the paper said.  I'm going to assume it WAS, in fact, a sawed-off baseball bat because I can't imagine what else resembles one.)

Benny had disguised himself by wearing some sort of garment with a hood (did I mention the part where it is hotter than the hinges of Hell here in Alabama?)  But in the middle of getting whomped-up-on, Larry pulled the hood off and realized that his assailant was his cuckolded former friend, Benny.  To quote the good mayor, "I was able to stand up and kneed him in the balls.  Then I kicked him there twice."  At this point, Benny got himself up off the ground and tried to make a get-away on his (God help us all) bicycle, but was detained by bystanders.  (Please remember with all of the bats and balls and bikes, that these guys are not 12, they are in their 70s)

Sometime during this whole fracas, someone called the popo, who showed up in time to cart Benny away where he was arrested and placed under a $150,000 bond.

Mayor Larry was taken to a nearby hospital where he gave his account of events to the police and then later the media...his wife, Mary, was loyally by his side.

Mary, honey, here's some advice.  There's not a judge in the world who won't award you EVERYTHING at this point.

I have no idea what Benny is looking like following all of this, but here's a picture of Mayor Larry (wearing his best Fruit of the Loom T-shirt):

New Panda, China No. 1 Buffet, and Panda Express are all vying for Mayor Larry to become their new spokesman. (Wait for it....)(Hat tip to my friend, Bobby.)

Update: Bobby sent me this...I had to share:

Mercy

Jeff has an Ugly Brown Chair.  It IS kinda cool.  It IS very comfortable.  It is a great place for man and beast alike to nap. (Caution: after the 6th month, pregnant women should not attempt to nap in the Ugly Brown Chair.  It will take a chainfall to extract them.) (Yes, I speak from experience.)

However, none of that changes its appearance.

The Ugly Brown Chair has many, many holes in its upholstery. (Was faux fur furniture covering in the 70's called upholstery?) To prevent the spread of jiblets of Ugly Brown Chair stuffing throughout the entire house, the Ugly Brown Chair usually has a (fur-covered) ESPN stadium blanket thrown across it. This keeps the plethora of animals that track in and out of the Ugly Brown Chair from further digging into the foam as well as keeping the already loosened bits from sticking in their fur once they have napped and are free to wander about.

A couple of weeks ago, the lovely Meg was in town.  I met up with her and our mutual friend Jacquie for lunch.  Meg told us that she'd probably have another friend with her...Robby.  Robby is a very talented interior design guru.  Also, a very nice guy.  We got to see some photos of his work.  I was very impressed...he was a guy that salvages a lot of used things to make very beautiful, eclectic room re-dos.  He had pictures of a whole fireplace wall/mantle thingy made entirely of old pallet wood.  It was awesome.

After our lunch, I got to thinking...maybe Robby could provide me some insight on what to do with Ugly Brown Chair that would preserve its usefulness, coolness and comfort while helping it not be so...well...ugly.

I texted Meg and told her that I would send her some pictures if she would be so kind as to forward them to Robby for his expert opinion.

I took off the protective ESPN blanket covering to give him the full perspective:

I was told that the kindest thing I could do was give Ugly Brown Chair a mercy killing.

So now I have to ask those of you out there who are reading this...is there naught to be done to save UBC?

Airing your laundry

This may just be my favorite photograph of all time.  Left to right we have: My sister Christy, my Granny, my cousin Jackie and myself.

Flapping in the breeze? 3 pairs of my Granny's underpants (or as we called 'em, drawers).

We are all on the incredibly unsafe swing set that was in Granny's side yard. That see-saw thingy that Christy and Granny are on?  Nearly claimed the last digit of my left pinkie finger.  The swings?  There's no stinkin' plastic tubing around those links, nosirree. You had to be careful and not let them pinch the hide off of you. It must be fairly new in this picture because all of the plastic caps are still on the ends of the tubing...that was not the case in later years when the sharp, rusty ends were just tetanus looking for a place to happen (plus wasps hid all up in there.)  Also?, if Jackie and I got to swinging together, we could get the frame's legs to tilt off the ground.  We turned the whole kit and caboodle over more than a few times.

There is so much I love about this picture and the memories it evokes.

Granny's in her curlers...which means this was probably taken on a Saturday since she was "setting" her hair for church on Sunday.

There's not a shoe in sight...for any of us.  Back in the day, between May and September I had to be forced into footwear of any kind.

And of course the clothesline in the back...many, many times we'd be playing away and a cloud would come up...then we knew to race into the house for a clothes basket to get the laundry in before it got rained on.  Granny didn't use the dryer in the summer...it had to get pretty darn rainy for days for her not to use the clothesline.  My favorite thing was when she did the sheets...we'd run up and down between the hung sheets shrieking like banshees...careful not to TOUCH the sheets and get them dirty.

It's too bad the picture isn't wider or you'd be able to see the trash  burning barrel that would have been just a bit further to the left and well behind us.  Basically a 55 gallon drum that we burned the household trash in...all of the scraps were thrown out for the possums, anything that wouldn't stink was burned in the burning barrel.  I remember keeping the milk jugs back so that once the fire got going good, you could hold them up over the fire and watch them melt.  There's really no telling what sorts of fumes I inhaled.

(Funny story: Once when Christy was in her early 20s, she was visiting a friend's apartment in Atlanta.  They had dinner and the friend went to go pick up some ice cream for dessert while Christy cleaned up the kitchen.  The apartment was on the second floor and had a balcony. The friend comes back, goes upstairs to the apartment and asks Christy why was there  spaghetti in the bushes downstairs...Christy told them that she threw the scraps out.  Apparently, not something you do "in the city.")

Grand

Last month, Jeff and I went on a trip...just the two of us to the beach to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary. (Yay us!)  Our daughter was home from college for the summer so we didn't even have to worry about getting someone to come over and care for the pets.

We had a great time and were much relaxed when we got home.

However.

When we backed in and raised the garage and started to go in the door, there was a sticky note from our child.  Here it is:

You know, it's funny how many scenarios can race through your mind in just SECONDS when you read something like that.  Here were some thoughts that flashed through my brain:

1. She broke the entire bottle of that expensive bourbon that I have up in the liquor cabinet (just moving stuff around up there, I'm sure) and was running late and left it for us to clean up.  I'm going to kill her.

2. She DRANK that expensive bottle of bourbon, realized that she'd be in trouble and then broke the bottle so that she could SAY that she was just moving it around, left the mess so that we would SEE the broken bottle, never suspect that she drank something that she KNEW I brought all the way back from Kentucky and was saving for something special and even though she's apparently an evil genius I'M GOING TO FREAKING KILL HER.

3. One (or more) of the animals vomited and she pretended that she was in a hurry and didn't have time to clean it up because she HATES cleaning up things like that, as if I don't and I cannot believe she'd just leave a mess like that to clean up when she KNOWS we'd be tired from driving all day...and okay, if my bourbon is still in the liquor cabinet, this isn't so bad but still, really?

4. I hope she didn't set anything on fire...but then, what's that got to do with watching my step?

 

All of that in the 1.5 seconds it took to turn the doorknob.  I KNOW Jeff was thinking along the same lines, because we groaned in unison as we stepped through the door and.....

 

Nothing.

 

No bourbon fumes in the air...no APPARENT puke or other pet effluent (there are worse things to "watch your step" about than a hair ball...and had she left something that horrible for me to potentially step in, I would have had to hunt her down, make her clean it up and then kill her).

 

Jeff: "Why are we watching our step?"

 

Me: "I don't know."

 

"Meep."

 

Together: "What the..."

 

"MEEEEEEP!"

 

 

Now, in the past, I MAY have upon occasion threatened Mileena's life a bit if she brought anotherdamnanimalintothishouse.

 

However.

 

That was when she lived here 24/7/365.  Now?  She's only home 'til the end of July...then it's back to college where I've already paid the pet deposit for her to take one of her other beasts with her.

So this:

 

is my very first grand-kitten.  I don't have to train her. I don't have to clean up after her. I don't have to do nothin' but cuddle and love her and then bid her adieu in just another few weeks.

 

Of course, we may have to have Mileena bring her to her "grandparents" when she comes to visit.

 

Since she made her meeping little appearance, Jeff has really come to love her.

 

Daisy seems to love her.

 

Our Golden Retriever, Simba loves her.

Libby, the chaweenie?  Not so much.

 

So everyone...introducing:

 

Nalla.

 

"It's exhausting being this cute. Oh. And Roll Tide."

When Pigs Fly

I have to admit that I was pretty slow to come to support gay marriage.  I've always believed that some people are born gay...but 15 years ago I would have said that I didn't understand why civil unions couldn't be sufficient to protect things like property rights and power of attorney and all of the legal things that needed protecting.

What has changed my mind about the right for gay people to marry hasn't been the changes that have been made to the laws of this country.  I began changing my mind about this issue as I began witnessing real people in real marriages (even if they weren't legal).  I'd like to introduce you to a couple of couples who were fundamental in changing my beliefs.

First up:

On the left is Don, on the right is Dustin.  I went to high school and graduated with Dustin (back then, we all called him Dusty).  I have forever loved Dusty.  I have ALWAYS known he was gay.  Well, let me caveat here for a minute.  When we all got together for our ten year reunion, Dusty was telling us all about how the things he and "Dawn" had been doing. "Dawn and I went on vacation here." "Dawn just loves that restaurant." "I am so glad that Dawn got these shoes for me." "Dawn and I just love living in Atlanta." "I sure wish "Dawn" could have come with me." And I thought to myself, "Hmpf...I always thought Dusty was gay.  But he seems just so happy with this "Dawn", Whaddyaknow?"
Then a year or two after the reunion a bunch of us classmates just met up with our spouses at informal gathering.  That's when Dusty introduced us to "Dawn"...aaannnd, it turns out that Dusty's Southern accent is just a tich thicker than most and that "Dawn" is how "Don" is pronounced in Dusty-speak.
Anyway, it was at this gathering that I had my first real epiphany.  The conversation went something like this:

Dustin: And then I came into the dining room and right there on the table written in the half inch of dust was, "Hi! I'm Dusty! And Dusty should dust me!"

Don: It was funny, and it was you who forgot to dust the table.

Dustin: It was NOT funny. And honestly, it would have taken you, what? 25 seconds more to just dust the table instead of leaving it like that?

Don: Yeah, well, I cleaned out the birds' cages, you know.

And so on...

And I thought to myself, "Holy crap! These two are so married."

In the ensuing years, I have watched Don and Dustin as they loved and supported each other through good times like vacations and holidays and graduations (Dustin went back to school and got his nursing degree! He rocks!) and bad times, like when Dustin dealt with the long illness and eventual death of his mother.  Don was a rock for him during the whole time Dustin's mom fought cancer...he was there with him supporting him during the funeral.
You really can't be around those two and not KNOW that they belong together.

Also?  I stay in contact with Dustin mostly through Facebook.  I have seen him ask for prayer for himself and for others in need.  I have seen him rejoice and give thanks to God.  I have seen him offer up prayers for others.  He is a kind, loving person...as is Don.

Here's the other couple that has really impacted me:

 

 

This is Cyndi and Lea.  Lea also went to my high school, but was a couple of years older than me.  I was friends with her sister, Lisa, who graduated the same year I did.  I knew Lea, but not well...just in passing.  However, when Facebook really became a thing, we became Facebook friends.

She posted pictures of their wedding (I think in 2009ish?):

 

 

And their wedding photos have always been some of my all-time favorites.  EVERYONE in them looks happy and like they are having fun.  Lea and Cyndi are obviously blissfully, happily in love.

 

And you know what else I love about being Facebook friends with Lea?  How often she posts about the church sermon she heard on Sunday, how often she is praying for this person or that...I've never met Cyndi, but I know that Lea posts frequently how blessed she is to have her in her life helping her get through the thick and thin.

Just last month, she posted a photograph of their son, Dakota getting baptized...with comments about how proud she and Cyn were of him.

 

 

So, here's what I think.  These guys?  They represent what marriage is about a whole lot better than many, many heterosexual couples.  Dustin and Don have been together 25 years.  And now that they can legally marry?  They will be doing that in a couple of weeks.  I think it's unbelievably touching that they have been together for a quarter of a century and still want to marry each other.

 

As for Lea and Cyndi...they are raising their children in a God-loving Christian home.  They attend church regularly, they participate in a good many charitable functions.  (They also ride Harleys which I think is completely bad-ass.)

Neither of these couples are a threat to "the family."  And I can see why a sterile "civil union" is not enough.

 

When the SCOTUS decision was made yesterday, I found out about it from Dustin's Facebook post...where he announced that he and Don would be getting married when Don got back from a trip.  He said that they would be "hollering "it's my wedding day, it's my wedding day" in their best Boudreaux voices!!!

 

I knew immediately what I wanted to get them for their wedding.  Boudreaux reminded me of Bordeaux, and my friend Janet Prosser who owns a wine store had introduced me to the perfect Bordeaux for my two little ole gettin' married Boudreauxs:

 

When I ran down to her store to get it, she had one bottle left...when I told her what it was for, she went ahead and gussied it up in wedding ribbon for me.

 

The loose translation of "Saint Glinglin" is "When Pigs Fly".  The literal translation is "Probably never."

I know that's when a lot of folks thought that legalized gay marriage would happen.

I think it's an appropriate wine to celebrate that it finally happened. (It's also very tasty)

 

P.S. I know what is in Leviticus and Romans.  So, I do realize what the Bible says. But to quote my beloved Granny regarding the Bible, "Honey, obey the words in red. Take the rest into consideration."

2015 was no 1994

I am not a gamer.   Let me put that right out there.  I have occasionally played video games (love the Lego series!) but I have no real passion for them.  However, I am married to a gamer and I do have a passion for him; so I do play infrequently, just so I can enjoy something he enjoys.

My husband, Jeff has played video games since the 70's when the Atari 2600 first landed into his hot little hands, and he has never looked back.  I was given full disclosure before I married him that he was a gamer...that he'd always been a gamer...that he'd always be a gamer until the day they pried the holographing transmorgaphying controller module out of his cold, dead hands (hopefully around the year 2070 or so).

I didn't mind.  Every man is going to have a hobby.  Could be fishing, could be hunting, could be golfing...whatever.  It's gonna be something that takes up a certain amount of time and money, but they need it to keep them on an even keel.

I figured that video gaming would be more expensive than some hobbies...but less expensive than most (no bass boat needed).  And even if he spent a lot of time doing it, he was just down the hall in his man cave and not out in the middle of a lake.

Jeff and I got married in 1990.  It was a busy year. Getting our first real jobs, getting married, getting our first home up and running.  Somehow, some way...Jeff missed the fact that Nintendo was having their World Championship tournament.  There were 30 cities where you could qualify for the event, that was held over a single weekend.  One of the cities was an hour and a half away from our house.  Jeff was just sick.

He said at that point that he'd never, ever again miss anything like that.

Now children, please let me explain.  In the1990's, the internet was a wee, little baby thing.  In 1993, only 1% of the world's two-way communication took place there.  And that was mostly military and some banking (remember Hackers? That was 1995).  We old-timers had to get our information in print...monthly gaming magazines or via phone. (as in, a telephone...usually one mounted on the wall with a long cord that would stretch into the living room).  Nintendo had a TIP HOTLINE that you could call.  It was called the Nintendo Power Line and when you called, it hooked you up with a game counselor (a live human being) to help you if you needed hints and tips about a certain game.

One glorious day, Jeff read about this:

This list was just the beginning...They added LOTS of additional locations.  We had the time of our lives that summer.  Jeff would call the Power Line frequently to see what cities had been added, we'd sit down with our Rand McNally Atlas:

(This is what we used instead of Google Maps) and we'd decide where we would go in the coming weeks.  The events themselves were awesome.
Nintendo would roll in to the site:

This trailer would then set up with all of its pomp and circumstance:

At the ends of the trailer were the qualifying stations.  This is where you could put up a score for the "finals".  Generally, the event lasted all weekend.  On Sunday, the four high scores would compete and the winner had a trip to the finals in San Diego.  Besides this prize, there was swag aplenty...if you won your "heat"...during the qualifying, (you went up four at a time, if you won out of that set of four), you got a t-shirt like the one you see in the picture above.  You got a black Nintendo hat for playing a qualifying round...there were also magnets for just folks who wandered up.

(Me with a free hat. Could not really tell you why the only picture I could find of myself during the ENTIRE. DAMN. SUMMER. was posing with Ronald McDonald, but there we are. Do you love my ginormous glasses?  What do you love more? The glasses or my jorts?  Myself, I'd kick kittens to have those skinny, tanned legs back.)

Along with all of this neat stuff, we met people.  We met folks that were like us, trying to win at an event for a crack at the finals in San Diego.  Jeff's best buddy, Brad, started going to events too.  We met people who had already won their trip but were hitting regionals to practice for the finals because the game being wasn't available to the public. It wasn't even a video cartridge, it was an eprom  (eprom = erasable programmable read-only memory...another "thing gone by").  We swapped phone numbers and addresses.  We started looking forward to seeing these folks at the different events.  We got to hear stories of other competitors from some of the people who's travels took them to other locations. (We heard about the Jersey gang long before we met them).

Then, Jeff won his regional in Shelby, North Carolina.  We were going to San Diego!  The pressure was off for us, but we still went so he could practice.  We also wanted to be there to root for people that we'd come to know and love.  We had made some really close friends.

And we had a chance for Jeff to win the big prize!  The grand prize was either a Ford Mustang or $25,000.  We were talking about starting a family...$25k would buy lots of Huggies.  And, being 1 in 132, that was better odds than any lottery.  In fact, I think that's how Jeff talked me in to suppressing my rampaging maternal hormones until Powerfest was over.

Let me state this clearly, in case you didn't get that.  This thing, this Nintendo Powerfest 1994 was so big, and was so important that I delayed PROCREATION for it.

The regional competitions wound down and we were set to wait it out for the finals, which happened in November of 1994.  We kept in contact with some of the folks that we'd gotten really close to during the interim as we waited out the weeks to the big event.

It. Was. Fantastic.

We went to Sea World.  We had a party in the San Diego Zoo Tree House...AFTER HOURS!  We had the whole thing to ourselves.  We met even more people that we became friends with.  We created memories and relationships that would last our lifetimes:

Jeff in his lucky shirt with Georgia (she came and stayed the weekend with us back in 2012) and Scott (aka, Beavis...still in contact with that guy via Facebook.  He's now a very handsome (and I'm betting some day famous) actor in New York

Mike Iarossi...THE 1994 GRAND CHAMPION, Billy Chappell (still in contact with...and he's visited our home several times...he still calls us to let us know when he changes jobs or his wife has a baby), James Coker (also visited us over the years) and for the life of me, a guy whose name I can't remember

Jeff didn't win the Championship...so we never had to have that conversation about how many diapers $25k would buy vs. how cool he'd look in a Mustang, but we had the time of our lives.  Except we all thought this would happen again.

Maybe they'd make it like the Olympics...every four years.

We got back home from California and settled into our new, non-Powerfest routine.

Jeff kept in contact with a lot of folks for awhile and even sent out a newsletter to the Powerfest brethren who had given us their addresses.






This is "The Binder" It holds all of the addresses, phone numbers, letters, postcards, copies of the Newsletter, etc. from Powerfest.  That's my toe in the bottom right corner.

I got pregnant a few months later...we had our daughter...we even named her after a video game character.  Time went on and we didn't hear anything about another Nintendo competition...world championship or powerfest or otherwise.

We got busy with our lives and raising our daughter.  We bought a bigger house.  We acquired many pets.  Life rocked on.




Behold, the result when nerds mate.

Funny thing, our daughter always loved video games...must be in her blood.  She really didn't fit the mold of what your typically think of as a video gamer...cheerleader in high school...sorority chick in college.  But she has played her whole entire life.  At the University of Alabama, she'd have half a fraternity over at her dorm just so she could kick their butt at Mario Party. 

I used to think of how absolutely cool it would be if Nintendo ever had ANYTHING like Powerfest again.  I know that Jeff and our daughter would have had a blast.  And what a story!  She is who she is BECAUSE of Powerfest.  We had her when we did because we were chasing the Powerfest events all over kingdom come.

And then, last month we heard that Nintendo was having a World Championship!  Holy freaking Moly!  We were SO excited. Mileena (I told you...straight outta Mortal Kombat) was home from college for the summer and everything.  This is what we had been waiting for!

Sadly, the whole dang thing fell short.

The only way to qualify was to participate and win at one of eight Best Buys. The "Southeast" location?  Was in Miami.  Not even kidding.  The other locations were just as inaccessible from Alabama.

Then there was the competition itself...the game was going to be on the Gameboy 3DS...Ultimate NES Remix.  Again, I am no gamer...but Jeff bought a 3DS and the game and gave it a whirl.  He really wanted this to be something...but he said that the randomness of the game put the risk too much on luck.  Besides, the events were all far away, there would only be one winner per site, and (we were told....seems like there was some dispute later) only one shot at a score.

Frankly, the whole thing looks like it was slapped together over a weekend employee retreat and then someone's assistant was told to make it happen with little or no flash to bang time.

I've been in contact with a lot of the old '94 crowd...I've read a lot about the whole event (it took place this past weekend) from video game bloggers...and the resounding cry I've heard has been one of disappointment.

I think that Nintendo missed a golden opportunity to bring a life-altering event (that's not even an exaggeration, as I hoped I've shown) to a whole new generation.  As it is, I don't think they made any new fans...and I know they disappointed their old ones.