After a tremendously challenging day at work I came home and passed out for a couple of hours. The only reason I made myself get out of bed at 9:30 pm was because I knew my sweet husband had made me comfort food (turkey pot pie!) to cheer me.
But in my sleep . . . How I wish I could make this come to life on the page! I was dreaming about an English girl joining an early 20th century Portuguese traveling ballet/circus. It was so lush with detail and dialogue. Why can't I write stories like that when I'm awake?
Of course, dreams being what they are, it's entirely possible that it would all be gibberish if I could remember the words. But still . . .
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Does this breakfast food make me look fat?
At the store where I do the bulk of my grocery shopping, the breakfast cereal is on the same aisle as the cookies. I find that to be both ominous and prophetic.
I was thinking that Honey Smacks (which, incidentally, were called Sugar Smacks when I was a kid) might not be a terrible option as a breakfast food. It's primarily puffed wheat (so perhaps it has a little fiber?) and probably doesn't have much more sugar in it than cereals masquerading as healthy (granola and the like.) I believe I was wrong. The nutritional label tells me that there is less than 1 gram of fiber per serving. And the ingredients, while completely recognizable, were atrocious:
Sugar, wheat, corn syrup, honey, oil, salt, coloring and only one preservative.
On one hand, it's refreshing to see a processed food with so few ingredients listed! On the other hand, the bulk of those ingredients is sweetener. So . . . .
I think I'd be just about as well off to eat Oreos for breakfast.
I was thinking that Honey Smacks (which, incidentally, were called Sugar Smacks when I was a kid) might not be a terrible option as a breakfast food. It's primarily puffed wheat (so perhaps it has a little fiber?) and probably doesn't have much more sugar in it than cereals masquerading as healthy (granola and the like.) I believe I was wrong. The nutritional label tells me that there is less than 1 gram of fiber per serving. And the ingredients, while completely recognizable, were atrocious:
Sugar, wheat, corn syrup, honey, oil, salt, coloring and only one preservative.
On one hand, it's refreshing to see a processed food with so few ingredients listed! On the other hand, the bulk of those ingredients is sweetener. So . . . .
I think I'd be just about as well off to eat Oreos for breakfast.
Gwennie
I just finished watching Sliding Doors with Gwenyth Paltrow and John Hannah. I adore John Hannah. Not so much on the Gwenyth though. (Is it me or does her "English accent" in Sliding Doors slip and drift between cockney and other regional inflections?)
Interestingly, I really love some of Gwenyth's movies, I think it's just her personality that I don't care for. And I'm not alone in this by a long shot.
Nature abhors a vacuum, so the expression goes. And now that Oprah has hung up her couch and headed for Boca Raton, I'm wondering what will fill that void in our collective lives. I imagine there are lots and lots of folks scrabbling to take her place. My great concern is that Ms. Paltrow will translate GOOP from blog to daytime talk show. Ugh.
Though I never watched Oprah, I could easily tolerate the "water cooler" talk about the show. I don't think I could stomach the same about Gwenyth. Which is odd because the things I don't like about Oprah are exactly the same things I don't like about Gwenyth.
That Oprah is quite self-important is an understatement (I have a whole theory about how people who believe themselves to be demigods pronounce their vowels--and Oprah is the original data that caused me to form my hypothesis.) And I truly believe she means well with the charitable causes, her school building, even her lavish giveaways.
Self-important? Gwenyth has that in spades too. To her credit, I believe Gwenyth also means well with her tone of speaking slowly and loudly (so to speak) so we commoners can understand the virtues she extols. But it's the style with which she conveys her near infinite wisdom that bugs me. It seems less genuine and down to Earth than Oprah. Maybe it's because Oprah came from a family of sharecroppers and really knows what it is to be a regular American. Paltrow was born Hollywood royalty. I guess her advice for wonderful, purposeful, healthy living doesn't ring true to me.
Or maybe I've got it all wrong. Maybe it will be Charlie Sheen who steps in to the afternoon arena to enlighten and entertain us for the next 20 years.
Or maybe America will quit watching TV.
Interestingly, I really love some of Gwenyth's movies, I think it's just her personality that I don't care for. And I'm not alone in this by a long shot.
Nature abhors a vacuum, so the expression goes. And now that Oprah has hung up her couch and headed for Boca Raton, I'm wondering what will fill that void in our collective lives. I imagine there are lots and lots of folks scrabbling to take her place. My great concern is that Ms. Paltrow will translate GOOP from blog to daytime talk show. Ugh.
Though I never watched Oprah, I could easily tolerate the "water cooler" talk about the show. I don't think I could stomach the same about Gwenyth. Which is odd because the things I don't like about Oprah are exactly the same things I don't like about Gwenyth.
That Oprah is quite self-important is an understatement (I have a whole theory about how people who believe themselves to be demigods pronounce their vowels--and Oprah is the original data that caused me to form my hypothesis.) And I truly believe she means well with the charitable causes, her school building, even her lavish giveaways.
Self-important? Gwenyth has that in spades too. To her credit, I believe Gwenyth also means well with her tone of speaking slowly and loudly (so to speak) so we commoners can understand the virtues she extols. But it's the style with which she conveys her near infinite wisdom that bugs me. It seems less genuine and down to Earth than Oprah. Maybe it's because Oprah came from a family of sharecroppers and really knows what it is to be a regular American. Paltrow was born Hollywood royalty. I guess her advice for wonderful, purposeful, healthy living doesn't ring true to me.
Or maybe I've got it all wrong. Maybe it will be Charlie Sheen who steps in to the afternoon arena to enlighten and entertain us for the next 20 years.
Or maybe America will quit watching TV.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Timing is everything
I've had to pee for over an hour but I can't get up to do it because then someone else in the house will come sit at the computer and use it for something important like YouTube or craigslist and I'll lose my place on the gossip website I'm reading and then how will I ever know whether the prostitution whorah goes back to pole dancing????
My life is way too complicated.
My life is way too complicated.
D'oh! Stupid tortoise!
I have always been an all or nothing kind of person. Ever since I was very, very little.
And I've learned exactly nothing in my 43 years' experience on this planet. (Shut up, daughter, as of this writing I am still 43--in my very early forties!)
At age 8 I lived in fear every single school day that, in my absence from home, my mom would clean out my dresser drawers and discover the pile of junk and papers and drawings and garbage stashed in my top drawer. My stomach trembled at the thought of how much trouble I'd be in for my hoarding tendencies when I got home from school.
Sure, there was a solution. I could have CLEANED THE DRAWER OUT MYSELF. But I didn't. Know why? Because I had a master plan in my head in which I cleaned my whole bedroom from top to bottom--every square inch fresh and sparkly--including the dreaded top dresser drawer--and voila! Problem solved! Except that I never quite got around to doing it because I was far too busy playing outside with the neighbor kids and watching TV and (according to my cousin who called me out for it at my grandmother's memorial service) being bossy and controlling. So. Problem not quite so solved . . .
And that story is pretty much all you need to know to understand who I am. But I'll still tell you a couple more ; )
As a teen I knew I needed to buckle down and get serious about my grades. But I couldn't just dive in and tackle a little bit every day--oh no, not me! First (as the blueprints inside my head went) I had to clean my whole bedroom from top to bottom--every inch fresh and sparkly--and only then could I devote myself to the proper sitting-at-my-desk study of homework each night.
But my plans didn't begin and end with a clean room and daily schoolwork. Nope. Because that's too simple a strategy for me. At that time I wanted to be a child phychologist so I borrowed about 10 hefty volumes from the library (Freud, Jung--you know, just some light reading) and packed them around with me for weeks without ever cracking a single one--the plan being that I'd immerse myself in them once my room was a tidy haven for academic pursuits, but, um **ahem** . . .
Also, I "was going to" (my famous impotent phrase) buy a subscription to Phychology Today and dutifully read it every evening, taking notes of vocabulary words and new concepts on a yellow legal pad (I babysat for a lawyer at the time, she left a large impression on me.) And there would be a houseplant (which I would remember to water) next to me on the desk and all my books would be properly organized on the bookshelf to my left. Ahhhhh, it was all to be so *perfect*!
None of that ever got done. And to this day I still have bad dreams about not having completed enough assignments for one of my classes and having to face the realization that I will fail the class and have to retake it . . .
You would think I'd learn from these experiences. But you'd be wrong in your thinking.
Also as a teen I was going to completely swear off sweets (another nugget of information gleaned from my lawyer boss) and exercise all the time and be svelte and skinny. Never mind that I was a completely firm, toned, petite, strong, healthy gymnast who weighed at the least 111 lbs and at the very very very most 117 lbs. Maybe 118 if I let my breath out. But my wonderful get-skinny plan couldn't take effect until I had saved the $13.95 to purchase this pile of bunk:
Because if I was going to do anything I was going to do it 1000%. I wasn't going to eat right and exercise unless I had the foil sauna suit to ensure my loss of at least 6 lbs immediately!
But the other thing about me is that I'm terribly lazy. I easily could have earned the $13.95 through babysitting. And I did earn that many times over. However, I earned it 7 or 8 bucks at a time but was too lazy to save it, clip out the ad from the back of TV guide, fill out the form, send in my money and buy the stupid suit. Instead, I think I fostered my relationship with the love of my life (junk food) 7 or 8 bucks at a time. And never quite got around to eating right. Or exercising. Or in any way making an effort to encourage a healthy lifestyle for the upcoming days when I wouldn't be forced to work out regularly with the gymnastics team and I might actually need a road map for sustaining a healthy weight and exercise regime . . .
The rest of my life story reads a bit like "lather, rinse, repeat." The details and situations might be slightly changed, but the basic plot is exactly the same. At some point you might expect that I noticed that my "all or nothing" ways were getting me nowhere (particularly in the health and weight department) and that I would have modified my modus operandi to be more functional and, dare I say it, more sane. Again, you'd be wrong.
Were this December 31st I think I'd make some sort of promise to myself to learn--and live--slow and steady wins the race. But it isn't December 31st. It's May 19th. It's kind of like being a Wednesday and who starts a new diet on a Wednesday? Nope, diets start on Mondays. So a livable, sustainable attitude and practice about my health is going to have to wait until next December 31st.
Even then, I will only be able to start my new laid back, approachable, even-keel way of life after cleaning my whole house from top to bottom--every inch fresh and sparkly . . .
And I've learned exactly nothing in my 43 years' experience on this planet. (Shut up, daughter, as of this writing I am still 43--in my very early forties!)
At age 8 I lived in fear every single school day that, in my absence from home, my mom would clean out my dresser drawers and discover the pile of junk and papers and drawings and garbage stashed in my top drawer. My stomach trembled at the thought of how much trouble I'd be in for my hoarding tendencies when I got home from school.
Sure, there was a solution. I could have CLEANED THE DRAWER OUT MYSELF. But I didn't. Know why? Because I had a master plan in my head in which I cleaned my whole bedroom from top to bottom--every square inch fresh and sparkly--including the dreaded top dresser drawer--and voila! Problem solved! Except that I never quite got around to doing it because I was far too busy playing outside with the neighbor kids and watching TV and (according to my cousin who called me out for it at my grandmother's memorial service) being bossy and controlling. So. Problem not quite so solved . . .
And that story is pretty much all you need to know to understand who I am. But I'll still tell you a couple more ; )
As a teen I knew I needed to buckle down and get serious about my grades. But I couldn't just dive in and tackle a little bit every day--oh no, not me! First (as the blueprints inside my head went) I had to clean my whole bedroom from top to bottom--every inch fresh and sparkly--and only then could I devote myself to the proper sitting-at-my-desk study of homework each night.
But my plans didn't begin and end with a clean room and daily schoolwork. Nope. Because that's too simple a strategy for me. At that time I wanted to be a child phychologist so I borrowed about 10 hefty volumes from the library (Freud, Jung--you know, just some light reading) and packed them around with me for weeks without ever cracking a single one--the plan being that I'd immerse myself in them once my room was a tidy haven for academic pursuits, but, um **ahem** . . .
Also, I "was going to" (my famous impotent phrase) buy a subscription to Phychology Today and dutifully read it every evening, taking notes of vocabulary words and new concepts on a yellow legal pad (I babysat for a lawyer at the time, she left a large impression on me.) And there would be a houseplant (which I would remember to water) next to me on the desk and all my books would be properly organized on the bookshelf to my left. Ahhhhh, it was all to be so *perfect*!
None of that ever got done. And to this day I still have bad dreams about not having completed enough assignments for one of my classes and having to face the realization that I will fail the class and have to retake it . . .
You would think I'd learn from these experiences. But you'd be wrong in your thinking.
Also as a teen I was going to completely swear off sweets (another nugget of information gleaned from my lawyer boss) and exercise all the time and be svelte and skinny. Never mind that I was a completely firm, toned, petite, strong, healthy gymnast who weighed at the least 111 lbs and at the very very very most 117 lbs. Maybe 118 if I let my breath out. But my wonderful get-skinny plan couldn't take effect until I had saved the $13.95 to purchase this pile of bunk:
Because if I was going to do anything I was going to do it 1000%. I wasn't going to eat right and exercise unless I had the foil sauna suit to ensure my loss of at least 6 lbs immediately!
But the other thing about me is that I'm terribly lazy. I easily could have earned the $13.95 through babysitting. And I did earn that many times over. However, I earned it 7 or 8 bucks at a time but was too lazy to save it, clip out the ad from the back of TV guide, fill out the form, send in my money and buy the stupid suit. Instead, I think I fostered my relationship with the love of my life (junk food) 7 or 8 bucks at a time. And never quite got around to eating right. Or exercising. Or in any way making an effort to encourage a healthy lifestyle for the upcoming days when I wouldn't be forced to work out regularly with the gymnastics team and I might actually need a road map for sustaining a healthy weight and exercise regime . . .
The rest of my life story reads a bit like "lather, rinse, repeat." The details and situations might be slightly changed, but the basic plot is exactly the same. At some point you might expect that I noticed that my "all or nothing" ways were getting me nowhere (particularly in the health and weight department) and that I would have modified my modus operandi to be more functional and, dare I say it, more sane. Again, you'd be wrong.
Were this December 31st I think I'd make some sort of promise to myself to learn--and live--slow and steady wins the race. But it isn't December 31st. It's May 19th. It's kind of like being a Wednesday and who starts a new diet on a Wednesday? Nope, diets start on Mondays. So a livable, sustainable attitude and practice about my health is going to have to wait until next December 31st.
Even then, I will only be able to start my new laid back, approachable, even-keel way of life after cleaning my whole house from top to bottom--every inch fresh and sparkly . . .
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
All In The Family
Now, I realize my sweet little granddaughter Lily probably has many traits from her father, but I didn't know him when he was a little boy so all I see in her is me. Lots and lots of me.
The other day at work a bunch of us were talking about children and how their natural abilities and gifts become apparent at a very early age. One coworker's granddaughter has been a dancer and singer since she was a toddler. A different coworker's son will, no doubt, follow in his father's footsteps and be a paramedic.
Someone asked me, "Can you tell yet? What are Lily's gifts?"
"Being right." I answered. "And knowing everything. Yep, she's my Mini Me."
Sorry, Lily's mommy. And good luck! : )
The other day at work a bunch of us were talking about children and how their natural abilities and gifts become apparent at a very early age. One coworker's granddaughter has been a dancer and singer since she was a toddler. A different coworker's son will, no doubt, follow in his father's footsteps and be a paramedic.
Someone asked me, "Can you tell yet? What are Lily's gifts?"
"Being right." I answered. "And knowing everything. Yep, she's my Mini Me."
Sorry, Lily's mommy. And good luck! : )
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Living the dream!
Do you ever hear your alarm clock going off but you're still asleep so the noise is incorporated into your dream? Like in your dream you think it's the phone but you can't find it to answer it? That happened to me the other day.
Early in the morning (and by "early" I of course mean "at the last possible second I can get up without being late to work") my alarm was buzzing away but in my sleep I was dreaming that I was already up and getting dressed. When I pulled on my jeans I heard the blaring siren. It was my jeans. To be precise, the noise was my bluejeans-early-warning-alarm-system telling me that my pants were too tight and I was on the verge of blowing out a seam with my too-large arse.
Even in my sleep I can't escape my neuroses!
Early in the morning (and by "early" I of course mean "at the last possible second I can get up without being late to work") my alarm was buzzing away but in my sleep I was dreaming that I was already up and getting dressed. When I pulled on my jeans I heard the blaring siren. It was my jeans. To be precise, the noise was my bluejeans-early-warning-alarm-system telling me that my pants were too tight and I was on the verge of blowing out a seam with my too-large arse.
Even in my sleep I can't escape my neuroses!
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Really?
Why? Why did the cashier at the grocery store put the Oreos on the bottom of the grocery sack? Do I look like the kind of girl who is going to patiently wait until she's home before tearing into the bag of cookies? Pfffftttt. I don't think so!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
how NOT to do it
I've never been great with either fashion or make-up. The make-up I wear is subtle (I hope!) and meant just to give me a little of my natural color back. (What with being over 40 . . . and losing my looks . . . muh . . . )
I have found that my job is a perfect place to people watch. It's perfect for looking at examples of how women dress themselves and paint themselves. Well, perfect if you want to learn to present yourself like you're 86 years old . . . or on welfare . . . or are a harried mother of sick children. I have a niche crowd, to say the least : )
I have one customer who is a late 20's energetic, funny mom. But every time she comes in I really have to look her over (surreptitiously) to figure out why the whole package doesn't quite deliver. Her blonde hair is always in a ponytail, but it's a well kept do and it's appropriate for a busy mom. She usually dresses casually (including a nylon ski-type jacket which I abhor!!!) but again, it's suitable to her lifestyle. I finally figured out that it's her make-up that misses the mark.
She wears heavy foundation. Really heavy. I don't know whether she's trying to cover up massive imperfections or whether she just has poor lighting in her bathroom. Her coat of cover-up is so stout that there is a permanent stain of it on her nylon jacket. Yet another reason to ditch it!
Also, because her hair is pulled back and the foundation is the same color as her mane, it all kind of blends together. I realize make-up is supposed to blend, but your whole head shouldn't look like one giant canvas of Serengeti. Even her eyebrows and eyelashes synthesize with the monochromatic theme.
And I don't think she's adding any color. I'm hardly one to judge since I really don't get how the whole palette thing works, but shouldn't one add a little highlight here and there? Maybe a rub of color on the cheeks? Or perhaps an accentuation of the eyes? It's odd how everything in her face disappears. It's all one plane.
Make-up. If you look like this UR doing it wrong:
I have found that my job is a perfect place to people watch. It's perfect for looking at examples of how women dress themselves and paint themselves. Well, perfect if you want to learn to present yourself like you're 86 years old . . . or on welfare . . . or are a harried mother of sick children. I have a niche crowd, to say the least : )
I have one customer who is a late 20's energetic, funny mom. But every time she comes in I really have to look her over (surreptitiously) to figure out why the whole package doesn't quite deliver. Her blonde hair is always in a ponytail, but it's a well kept do and it's appropriate for a busy mom. She usually dresses casually (including a nylon ski-type jacket which I abhor!!!) but again, it's suitable to her lifestyle. I finally figured out that it's her make-up that misses the mark.
She wears heavy foundation. Really heavy. I don't know whether she's trying to cover up massive imperfections or whether she just has poor lighting in her bathroom. Her coat of cover-up is so stout that there is a permanent stain of it on her nylon jacket. Yet another reason to ditch it!
Also, because her hair is pulled back and the foundation is the same color as her mane, it all kind of blends together. I realize make-up is supposed to blend, but your whole head shouldn't look like one giant canvas of Serengeti. Even her eyebrows and eyelashes synthesize with the monochromatic theme.
And I don't think she's adding any color. I'm hardly one to judge since I really don't get how the whole palette thing works, but shouldn't one add a little highlight here and there? Maybe a rub of color on the cheeks? Or perhaps an accentuation of the eyes? It's odd how everything in her face disappears. It's all one plane.
Make-up. If you look like this UR doing it wrong:
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Breakfast
There aren't enough chocolate pieces in the mint-chocolate-chip ice cream I'm eating this morning.
What? Like you've never had a day start out like this?
: D
What? Like you've never had a day start out like this?
: D
Saturday, April 9, 2011
The most special kind of relationship
Now, you, dear reader, might be thinking to yourself that the most special kind of relationship is that between a husband and a wife. Or maybe that between a mother and daughter. Between a grandparent and grandchild? You would be wrong with any of those guesses. Scientific studies have shown that the most special kind of relationship is the one between Crazy-Over-40-Pretend-Surrogate-Momish-Type-Person and Equally-(but differently)-crazy-20something-Cat-Loving-Loner.
True story.
Here is a recent, and actual, transcript of said relationship. (BTW, I'm sure this in no way constitutes breach of privacy, right?)
Him:
True story.
Here is a recent, and actual, transcript of said relationship. (BTW, I'm sure this in no way constitutes breach of privacy, right?)
Me:
Just like Festivus! It's the Airing of Grievances.
Do you ever just sit and marvel at how I have turned being an idiot into such a high art form? Because I do. I marvel.
Last June during the darkest time of my life, I had hoped that, along with the rest of my friends and family, you would call or message me on my birthday. I so wanted to believe that under those circumstances (at the very least) you would be the good guy and friend I knew (?) you really were and be supportive or thoughtful. And I made sure you knew it was my birthday so there was no ambiguity.
That turned out badly.
And I thought I was over that (but why? Why would **anyone** in their right mind even TRY to get over that?) until this week when you called me a drama queen and made fun of me. And then it all came back like a Sunday morning hangover.
I. Am. An. Idiot.
And a drama queen I may be, but . . . . I'm not even going to finish that thought. You know what I'd say anyway.
I'm not going to finish any of my thoughts. I'll refrain from making it a full blown nastygram because I know how you hate them. Not that I blame you. Although it escapes me now why I should give a passing care as to what you do or don't like. You are not a good friend to me. I shouldn't care at all. (I admit you have shown some care and concern about Logan, but the rest of our "relationship"? Not so much.)
Bring on the Feats of Strength!
Do you ever just sit and marvel at how I have turned being an idiot into such a high art form? Because I do. I marvel.
Last June during the darkest time of my life, I had hoped that, along with the rest of my friends and family, you would call or message me on my birthday. I so wanted to believe that under those circumstances (at the very least) you would be the good guy and friend I knew (?) you really were and be supportive or thoughtful. And I made sure you knew it was my birthday so there was no ambiguity.
That turned out badly.
And I thought I was over that (but why? Why would **anyone** in their right mind even TRY to get over that?) until this week when you called me a drama queen and made fun of me. And then it all came back like a Sunday morning hangover.
I. Am. An. Idiot.
And a drama queen I may be, but . . . . I'm not even going to finish that thought. You know what I'd say anyway.
I'm not going to finish any of my thoughts. I'll refrain from making it a full blown nastygram because I know how you hate them. Not that I blame you. Although it escapes me now why I should give a passing care as to what you do or don't like. You are not a good friend to me. I shouldn't care at all. (I admit you have shown some care and concern about Logan, but the rest of our "relationship"? Not so much.)
Bring on the Feats of Strength!
Him:
Why not just tell me you're going to squat and piss on my grave?
Me:
Ha! yeah, because it's about me being bad to you : )
Him:
Me:
Ha! yeah, because it's about me being bad to you : )
Him:
How is pissing on my grave about me? It isn't even bad. You would be adding nitrogen to the soil. Urea is very good for the plants.
Me:
Me:
Oh dear--is your allergy to admitting you might be wrong flaring up again? You need an antihistamine.
Or an antiKristamine . . .
Here are a few phrases to keep in mind for the future:
"I'm sorry"
"I was wrong"
"I was insensitive, let me make it up to you by . . . "
"I understand what you're saying"
"You're important enough to me that I want to do the right thing"
"I could have handled that differently"
"I'm a man, but I can change. If I have to. I guess . . . "
Say them. Let them roll around on your tongue. Get used to the feel of them. Maybe even practice them on me? Because I know and you know that you eventually want to have a long term relationship and any or all of those phrases are necessary for men to know and use. Frequently. And sincerely!
See what I'm doing there? I'm helping you have an amazing relationship in the future by training you now in all the things you are SORELY LACKING. I am selfless that way.
Him:
If the women don't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy.
Me:
Or an antiKristamine . . .
Here are a few phrases to keep in mind for the future:
"I'm sorry"
"I was wrong"
"I was insensitive, let me make it up to you by . . . "
"I understand what you're saying"
"You're important enough to me that I want to do the right thing"
"I could have handled that differently"
"I'm a man, but I can change. If I have to. I guess . . . "
Say them. Let them roll around on your tongue. Get used to the feel of them. Maybe even practice them on me? Because I know and you know that you eventually want to have a long term relationship and any or all of those phrases are necessary for men to know and use. Frequently. And sincerely!
See what I'm doing there? I'm helping you have an amazing relationship in the future by training you now in all the things you are SORELY LACKING. I am selfless that way.
Him:
If the women don't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy.
Me:
Yeah, just give me the address of your future gravesite now so I can get started. Why waste any more time?
Joking aside, do you have any idea how much it would mean to me if you either admitted you were insensitive to me when I needed you last summer or if you found a way to make some sort of amends? I'd probably forgive you everything else I bear a grudge about if that happened.
Him:
Joking aside, do you have any idea how much it would mean to me if you either admitted you were insensitive to me when I needed you last summer or if you found a way to make some sort of amends? I'd probably forgive you everything else I bear a grudge about if that happened.
Him:
I should have called. And I am sorry about that. You have been supportive to me and I appreciate you.
Okay, fine. That last line from "him" wasn't real. What he really answered was:
**crickets chirping**
Nothing. No answer at all. Like anybody who has had at least a 10 minute relationship with him would have guessed. Does it count that he has, on one or two occasions in the past, actually said the words, "I appreciate you"?
At least we have the Red Green to laugh about . . .
Okay, fine. That last line from "him" wasn't real. What he really answered was:
**crickets chirping**
Nothing. No answer at all. Like anybody who has had at least a 10 minute relationship with him would have guessed. Does it count that he has, on one or two occasions in the past, actually said the words, "I appreciate you"?
At least we have the Red Green to laugh about . . .
Thursday, February 24, 2011
And speaking of thighs . . .
Why are thighs so Prima Donna? Why are they all Diva and narcissistic?
They're always so puffed up and proud of themselves. They're always showing themselves off no matter what you wear to try to disguise them a bit. They're always smiling their big, dimply smiles for everyone to see.
And they're noisy. Always have something to say. They are so desperate for attention that they make a ruckus when you walk. If you're wearing jeans they make a slightly raspy din as the seams rub together. Wearing yoga pants? A bit of a "rubbing two sticks together until they combust" racket. And maybe they really could combust? I don't know but I refuse to call their bluff by hopping on the StairMaster! Wearing spanks beneath a pretty dress? Oh yeah, lots of fun sound effects there. Thighs just don't let up!
Have you ever had your jeans spontaneously rip in the thighs? Like when you're at work and you're, oh, say, bending over to fetch a prescription off the lowest shelf? In fact, when your jeans are getting just a little worn in that spot do you have actual nightmares about them ripping in an inconvenient, and obvious, situation?
D'oh! I loathe you self-centered, vainglorious, conceited thighs!!! On the other hand, I guess it's good that I have thighs. Without them I'd be as tall, not to mention as charming, as Cotton Hill. [Between you and me? I'm already just as pleasant as good ole' Cotton, but without the lack of half my legs and the silver-gray crew cut nobody has seemed to notice it yet. No comments from you, darling daughter!!! ]
They're always so puffed up and proud of themselves. They're always showing themselves off no matter what you wear to try to disguise them a bit. They're always smiling their big, dimply smiles for everyone to see.
And they're noisy. Always have something to say. They are so desperate for attention that they make a ruckus when you walk. If you're wearing jeans they make a slightly raspy din as the seams rub together. Wearing yoga pants? A bit of a "rubbing two sticks together until they combust" racket. And maybe they really could combust? I don't know but I refuse to call their bluff by hopping on the StairMaster! Wearing spanks beneath a pretty dress? Oh yeah, lots of fun sound effects there. Thighs just don't let up!
Have you ever had your jeans spontaneously rip in the thighs? Like when you're at work and you're, oh, say, bending over to fetch a prescription off the lowest shelf? In fact, when your jeans are getting just a little worn in that spot do you have actual nightmares about them ripping in an inconvenient, and obvious, situation?
D'oh! I loathe you self-centered, vainglorious, conceited thighs!!! On the other hand, I guess it's good that I have thighs. Without them I'd be as tall, not to mention as charming, as Cotton Hill. [Between you and me? I'm already just as pleasant as good ole' Cotton, but without the lack of half my legs and the silver-gray crew cut nobody has seemed to notice it yet. No comments from you, darling daughter!!! ]
Sunday, February 20, 2011
And now: An educated and enlightened movie review.
Hubby and I had a movie date Friday night. We saw the new Liam Neeson movie which is called "Unknown" or "Forgotten" or "Amnesia" or "What the Heck is Going On?" or "Hasn't This Story Already Been Told?" or something like that. Clearly, I loved it.
January Jones? Way too young to be Liam Neeson's wife. Way too young. But isn't that always how it is in movies? Don't even get me started on the whole double standard thing!
Also? January Jones? BAD ACTOR!!! Seriously bad. Not believable. Did not come off as the intelligent wife of a doctor. Didn't come off as the intelligent anything. Couldn't carry off being snooty and uppity with any conviction at all. Seemed spoiled, but nothing more than that.
Also? January Jones? Way too bony!!!! And that's not jealousy talking : ) She's entirely too thin and doesn't look the least bit feminine. She looks fragile and starving and unhealthy. There's something about a female character (especially one who is supposed to be as strong and accomplished in her position as her character is supposed to be) who is unnaturally skinny that's unconvincing.
Ten minutes into the movie I had the plot mostly figured out. Although, I will say I was pleasantly surprised at two twists that I didn't see coming.
The minute Frank Langella came on the screen I knew he was a bad guy. Because he's always the bad guy. ALWAYS. If you want to tip the audience off and leave absolutely no suspense whatsoever, cast Frank Langella as the bad guy. Aaaaand scene!
In a surprise move, there was a skinny, beautiful, young blonde girl who was inexplicably willing to risk everything she owns, everyone she loves as well as her own life to help a complete stranger. Oh, wait. That's not a surprise move. It's been done to death! And I need to point out that there is no earthly justification for the assassins not killing said skinny, beautiful, blonde girl in the apartment scene. They killed, with not a moment of compunction, the MRI tech, the nurse and the friend in the stairwell. They didn't need the blonde girl. They wasted time and effort not killing her. It made no sense. At all. In the midst of a movie that's all about logic : )
Luckily, there were a couple fight scenes. They were protracted and ridiculous. Like all movie fight scenes are . . .
And then there was a car chase. It was protracted and ridiculous. Like all movie car chases are. But, wait! There were two car chases! And just in case the first one wasn't implausible enough, the second one featured a man who had never been in the city insisting upon driving. It took place during a snowy winter, and the girl who he refused to let drive was a taxi cab driver in that city!!!!! So at least it was reality based . . .
On a related note: I think I should wear more purple, like the skinny, beautiful, blonde girl in the final scene. I should probably also go for the tall, skinny, beautiful, blonde look while I'm at it. I'll work on that : )
January Jones? Way too young to be Liam Neeson's wife. Way too young. But isn't that always how it is in movies? Don't even get me started on the whole double standard thing!
Also? January Jones? BAD ACTOR!!! Seriously bad. Not believable. Did not come off as the intelligent wife of a doctor. Didn't come off as the intelligent anything. Couldn't carry off being snooty and uppity with any conviction at all. Seemed spoiled, but nothing more than that.
Also? January Jones? Way too bony!!!! And that's not jealousy talking : ) She's entirely too thin and doesn't look the least bit feminine. She looks fragile and starving and unhealthy. There's something about a female character (especially one who is supposed to be as strong and accomplished in her position as her character is supposed to be) who is unnaturally skinny that's unconvincing.
Ten minutes into the movie I had the plot mostly figured out. Although, I will say I was pleasantly surprised at two twists that I didn't see coming.
The minute Frank Langella came on the screen I knew he was a bad guy. Because he's always the bad guy. ALWAYS. If you want to tip the audience off and leave absolutely no suspense whatsoever, cast Frank Langella as the bad guy. Aaaaand scene!
In a surprise move, there was a skinny, beautiful, young blonde girl who was inexplicably willing to risk everything she owns, everyone she loves as well as her own life to help a complete stranger. Oh, wait. That's not a surprise move. It's been done to death! And I need to point out that there is no earthly justification for the assassins not killing said skinny, beautiful, blonde girl in the apartment scene. They killed, with not a moment of compunction, the MRI tech, the nurse and the friend in the stairwell. They didn't need the blonde girl. They wasted time and effort not killing her. It made no sense. At all. In the midst of a movie that's all about logic : )
Luckily, there were a couple fight scenes. They were protracted and ridiculous. Like all movie fight scenes are . . .
And then there was a car chase. It was protracted and ridiculous. Like all movie car chases are. But, wait! There were two car chases! And just in case the first one wasn't implausible enough, the second one featured a man who had never been in the city insisting upon driving. It took place during a snowy winter, and the girl who he refused to let drive was a taxi cab driver in that city!!!!! So at least it was reality based . . .
On a related note: I think I should wear more purple, like the skinny, beautiful, blonde girl in the final scene. I should probably also go for the tall, skinny, beautiful, blonde look while I'm at it. I'll work on that : )
Pho me
So. Hubby is on new pain meds. He needs to have food in his stomach before he can take them so as we left the pharmacy and headed home I was thinking about what we had in the fridge that I could put together quickly so he could take his pills and be relieved of the agony.
I determined what I could make the quickest was a stop at a take-out place . . .
Everyone at work has been going on and on about the Pho take-out place across the street. And I saw Robin's Pho noodle leftovers one day--they looked and smelled delicious! Plus, she told me how inexpensive and convenient it was. I decided that's what I'd do in this pinch.
Only I didn't know how to order. The menu is written in Vietnamese (or something. I'm not sure.) And yes, they have English translations but I didn't catch that right away. I ordered what I thought was the same thing that Robin had had but it seemed a bit more expensive than she'd promised. And then moments after ordering and paying and after the kitchen had already received my order and started on it, I realized I was getting soup and not noodles. And I knew how my hubby feels about suspicious oriental soup.
When I got into the car with the goods he took one whiff and asked, "what did you buy?"
"It's soup!" I cheerfully replied.
"I thought you were getting noodles."
"Yeah," I let the sparkling facade go. It wasn't fooling him. "But I didn't understand the menu."
"It smells like a diaper."
"It's beef soup! It will be fine. I also got egg rolls. I wanted to get some food in your stomach quickly."
"So you bought me poop soup? There better not be any beaks staring up at me when I take the lid off."
"I already told you, it's beef soup."
"Like I said, there better not be any beaks staring up at me."
The pain has not affected Hubby's distrustful nature : )
I determined what I could make the quickest was a stop at a take-out place . . .
Everyone at work has been going on and on about the Pho take-out place across the street. And I saw Robin's Pho noodle leftovers one day--they looked and smelled delicious! Plus, she told me how inexpensive and convenient it was. I decided that's what I'd do in this pinch.
Only I didn't know how to order. The menu is written in Vietnamese (or something. I'm not sure.) And yes, they have English translations but I didn't catch that right away. I ordered what I thought was the same thing that Robin had had but it seemed a bit more expensive than she'd promised. And then moments after ordering and paying and after the kitchen had already received my order and started on it, I realized I was getting soup and not noodles. And I knew how my hubby feels about suspicious oriental soup.
When I got into the car with the goods he took one whiff and asked, "what did you buy?"
"It's soup!" I cheerfully replied.
"I thought you were getting noodles."
"Yeah," I let the sparkling facade go. It wasn't fooling him. "But I didn't understand the menu."
"It smells like a diaper."
"It's beef soup! It will be fine. I also got egg rolls. I wanted to get some food in your stomach quickly."
"So you bought me poop soup? There better not be any beaks staring up at me when I take the lid off."
"I already told you, it's beef soup."
"Like I said, there better not be any beaks staring up at me."
The pain has not affected Hubby's distrustful nature : )
So. *That* didn't work . . .
Again. I had the trouble again with not being able to string more than two good days together on the Hcg diet. So I stopped. Again. But, the great news is that I seem to be holding steady at my new set point weight. I have not confirmed that with the scale--I'm going by how my clothes fit and right now they fit great!
I am not sure exactly what my plan is right now. I desperately need to get over the all-or-nothing mentality that trips me up every single time. Every. Single. Time!
For now I am trying only to eat when I'm hungry. To stop when I'm satisfied. To make sure I'm getting not only starches (my love, my life, my starches!) but also more veggie and fruit carbs in my daily intake.
The thing about veggies is: they *scream* for fat to go with them; to make them better; to take them higher; to complete them. Oh veggies and fat, how do I love thee? And believe me, I am not opposed to veggies with fat--I hold no unfair prejudice at all! The problem is when I have a salad, for example, but the amount of salad dressing and cheese and bacon bits (and a crouton or two--who am I to discriminate against the noble crouton?) by far outweigh the benefits of the few stray lettuce leaves and the couple of garbanzo beans rolling around. Maybe that's not the best way to increase my servings of veggies. Just sayin . . .
On the other hand, one thing I have gained much better control over is my love for Coke. I have had a lifelong love affair with Coke. I have even written a touching and sybaritic ode to my former One True Love. Yes, I said former.
I have kicked the caramel colored/carbonated/high fructose corn syrup dependence many, many times in the past and have always gone back to it. But this time it feels very different. I was off Coke for so long during my first (and only successful) round of Hcg that it became a non issue. Now when I taste it (and sometimes I do) it's overly sweet and not the same satisfying near-crack experience it used to be to me. However, I still do indulge from time to time. And I think I'm going to let that be okay. I think instead of going back to drinking 2 or 3 every single day just because I couldn't 100% kick the habit (all-or-nothing, much?) I'm going to allow myself to enjoy one or two on the weekends. Or give in to my trigger event which is when we're dining out. And it's not going to make or break me. That's the plan : )
[Side note: I have a whole issue with the Coca-Cola store in Vegas. When there a couple years ago I wanted a cute t-shirt or tank top emblazoned with the free advertising of my poison of choice. They had lots of fun Coke gear for men, but in the women's section it was all Diet Coke. It struck me as stereotyping and I was quite angry about it. On the other hand, I do, in large part, owe my not-exactly-feminine-ideal figure to having drunk about a million gallons of the full-on sugar drink . . . ]
Okay. So that's my plan. Not to let food and dieting rule my life. Not to allow my all-or-nothing OCD to derail all the good I've done. And probably to work on getting more exercise.
Let's just see if it takes : )
I am not sure exactly what my plan is right now. I desperately need to get over the all-or-nothing mentality that trips me up every single time. Every. Single. Time!
For now I am trying only to eat when I'm hungry. To stop when I'm satisfied. To make sure I'm getting not only starches (my love, my life, my starches!) but also more veggie and fruit carbs in my daily intake.
The thing about veggies is: they *scream* for fat to go with them; to make them better; to take them higher; to complete them. Oh veggies and fat, how do I love thee? And believe me, I am not opposed to veggies with fat--I hold no unfair prejudice at all! The problem is when I have a salad, for example, but the amount of salad dressing and cheese and bacon bits (and a crouton or two--who am I to discriminate against the noble crouton?) by far outweigh the benefits of the few stray lettuce leaves and the couple of garbanzo beans rolling around. Maybe that's not the best way to increase my servings of veggies. Just sayin . . .
On the other hand, one thing I have gained much better control over is my love for Coke. I have had a lifelong love affair with Coke. I have even written a touching and sybaritic ode to my former One True Love. Yes, I said former.
I have kicked the caramel colored/carbonated/high fructose corn syrup dependence many, many times in the past and have always gone back to it. But this time it feels very different. I was off Coke for so long during my first (and only successful) round of Hcg that it became a non issue. Now when I taste it (and sometimes I do) it's overly sweet and not the same satisfying near-crack experience it used to be to me. However, I still do indulge from time to time. And I think I'm going to let that be okay. I think instead of going back to drinking 2 or 3 every single day just because I couldn't 100% kick the habit (all-or-nothing, much?) I'm going to allow myself to enjoy one or two on the weekends. Or give in to my trigger event which is when we're dining out. And it's not going to make or break me. That's the plan : )
[Side note: I have a whole issue with the Coca-Cola store in Vegas. When there a couple years ago I wanted a cute t-shirt or tank top emblazoned with the free advertising of my poison of choice. They had lots of fun Coke gear for men, but in the women's section it was all Diet Coke. It struck me as stereotyping and I was quite angry about it. On the other hand, I do, in large part, owe my not-exactly-feminine-ideal figure to having drunk about a million gallons of the full-on sugar drink . . . ]
Okay. So that's my plan. Not to let food and dieting rule my life. Not to allow my all-or-nothing OCD to derail all the good I've done. And probably to work on getting more exercise.
Let's just see if it takes : )
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
How I arrived at this plateau (which, I must admit, has a lovely view : )
I'm about halfway through my weight loss and health improvement journey. Every step of the way has been tremendously difficult but I keep plugging away--3 steps forward, 2 steps back.
In a nutshell: Athletic, strong, healthy gymnast and drill team member as a kid. Married young, three kids.
SoccerBallet4-HWrestlingPianoSymphonyHomeschooling mom. Driving my kids around to all those activities (and putting their interests well before my own) meant lots of eating in the car, very little exercise and very little taking care of me.
And I'm going to be starkly honest and admit that I have loved junk food since I was a little kid. Not that Mom allowed us to eat junk food back in the day. And speaking of back in the day (I'm 43) in my part of the country (backwoods Pacific Northwest) there wasn't the proliferation of junk food available to us like there is now. When I was a teenager (driving and earning money on my own) I managed to down a lot of junk food. But because I was so active it didn't affect my weight at all.
Having over scheduled children, my crushing habit of and obsession with bad food, eating on the run and not having the chance (plus not being at all committed) to exercise of course led to rapid weight gain. I manged to lose 30 of the excess 40 before I got pregnant with number 3 but all hell broke loose with my body after number 3 was born. By then I was in my late 20s, the older kids' activities and my obligations were piling up and all my worst habits were compounding.
Flash forward to 2002: My highest weight was . . . let's just agree it was ungodly large.
That's when I joined Curves. I was so relieved and happy after finishing my very first workout there! I couldn't believe my body even had the ability to make it through a 30 minute workout. It was liberating.
I lost almost 50 lbs doing nothing but Curves and beginning to keep a better eye on what I was eating--but not dieting in the strict sense of the word.
I have managed to keep 30 of the 50 lbs off consistently since then, but losing any more than that has been a tooth and nail fight. For the last 4 years I have dieted and exercised very, very hard to get back down to the 50 lb mark but the minute I let up, the weight returns and I'm right back up to the 30 lb mark (sometimes even a little higher.) Probably the weight comes back because I go back to my previous habit of eating anything I want, anytime I want.
I have tried EVERYTHING. Every. Single. Thing. I have tried every combination of cardio and weight training and yoga and dance class as well as just about every diet program you can think of. I have fed the muscles to go with the exercise, I've done fads and low carb and low calorie and on and on and on . . . I'm one of those people who can work her a$$ off for weeks and weeks and weeks at a time but lose only 2 or 3 pounds. Granted, I tone up and it always looks like I've lost much more than I really have--and I'm grateful for getting healthier and looking healthier--but I can't break beyond the barrier that keeps me looking behemoth.
Starting in October of 2010 I tried the Hcg diet and had wonderful success. It was amazing and I felt like I was on the right path towards reaching my ultimate goal.
I did the Hcg for 40 days, then 3 weeks of modified, followed by 3 weeks of regular eating but trying to stay away from too much sugar and refined foods. January 4th, 2011, I started the Hcg diet again and could not stick with it. It was awful. I couldn't string together more than 1 or 2 days at a time of actually following the diet. I don't know what was wrong with my attitude that I couldn't handle it.
I decided I had to stop wasting my time and energy on that diet and instead tried to eat healthy, clean food, watch my calories and exercise almost daily. It all started off well--and I even mostly prefer non junk food now after all the years of cooking and eating my freinds' fantastic food--but somehow I just couldn't get into the rhythm of exercise.
I am an all or nothing girl. Since I wasn't meeting my exercise expectations, I felt like a complete failure and I just let it all go in the eating department. Tonight I decided I'd better try doing another round of Hcg.
Wednesday, Feb 2, and Thursday, Feb 3, are going to be my load days and then I'll do between 21 and 40 days of low calorie eating + yoga. I want so much to lose 20 more lbs--I want it so badly!!! My oldest son is getting married in July and I want to be in the realm of just "chubby" rather than obese. I'm still athletic and I actually do have a nicely curvy figure (I am one of the lucky fat girls to have a waistline! That's my only good feature : ) but I want to look like a regular woman who can shop in the regular sizes at stores. That's really all I want.
And, of course, world peace : )
In a nutshell: Athletic, strong, healthy gymnast and drill team member as a kid. Married young, three kids.
SoccerBallet4-HWrestlingPianoSymphonyHomeschooling mom. Driving my kids around to all those activities (and putting their interests well before my own) meant lots of eating in the car, very little exercise and very little taking care of me.
And I'm going to be starkly honest and admit that I have loved junk food since I was a little kid. Not that Mom allowed us to eat junk food back in the day. And speaking of back in the day (I'm 43) in my part of the country (backwoods Pacific Northwest) there wasn't the proliferation of junk food available to us like there is now. When I was a teenager (driving and earning money on my own) I managed to down a lot of junk food. But because I was so active it didn't affect my weight at all.
Having over scheduled children, my crushing habit of and obsession with bad food, eating on the run and not having the chance (plus not being at all committed) to exercise of course led to rapid weight gain. I manged to lose 30 of the excess 40 before I got pregnant with number 3 but all hell broke loose with my body after number 3 was born. By then I was in my late 20s, the older kids' activities and my obligations were piling up and all my worst habits were compounding.
Flash forward to 2002: My highest weight was . . . let's just agree it was ungodly large.
That's when I joined Curves. I was so relieved and happy after finishing my very first workout there! I couldn't believe my body even had the ability to make it through a 30 minute workout. It was liberating.
I lost almost 50 lbs doing nothing but Curves and beginning to keep a better eye on what I was eating--but not dieting in the strict sense of the word.
I have managed to keep 30 of the 50 lbs off consistently since then, but losing any more than that has been a tooth and nail fight. For the last 4 years I have dieted and exercised very, very hard to get back down to the 50 lb mark but the minute I let up, the weight returns and I'm right back up to the 30 lb mark (sometimes even a little higher.) Probably the weight comes back because I go back to my previous habit of eating anything I want, anytime I want.
I have tried EVERYTHING. Every. Single. Thing. I have tried every combination of cardio and weight training and yoga and dance class as well as just about every diet program you can think of. I have fed the muscles to go with the exercise, I've done fads and low carb and low calorie and on and on and on . . . I'm one of those people who can work her a$$ off for weeks and weeks and weeks at a time but lose only 2 or 3 pounds. Granted, I tone up and it always looks like I've lost much more than I really have--and I'm grateful for getting healthier and looking healthier--but I can't break beyond the barrier that keeps me looking behemoth.
Starting in October of 2010 I tried the Hcg diet and had wonderful success. It was amazing and I felt like I was on the right path towards reaching my ultimate goal.
I did the Hcg for 40 days, then 3 weeks of modified, followed by 3 weeks of regular eating but trying to stay away from too much sugar and refined foods. January 4th, 2011, I started the Hcg diet again and could not stick with it. It was awful. I couldn't string together more than 1 or 2 days at a time of actually following the diet. I don't know what was wrong with my attitude that I couldn't handle it.
I decided I had to stop wasting my time and energy on that diet and instead tried to eat healthy, clean food, watch my calories and exercise almost daily. It all started off well--and I even mostly prefer non junk food now after all the years of cooking and eating my freinds' fantastic food--but somehow I just couldn't get into the rhythm of exercise.
I am an all or nothing girl. Since I wasn't meeting my exercise expectations, I felt like a complete failure and I just let it all go in the eating department. Tonight I decided I'd better try doing another round of Hcg.
Wednesday, Feb 2, and Thursday, Feb 3, are going to be my load days and then I'll do between 21 and 40 days of low calorie eating + yoga. I want so much to lose 20 more lbs--I want it so badly!!! My oldest son is getting married in July and I want to be in the realm of just "chubby" rather than obese. I'm still athletic and I actually do have a nicely curvy figure (I am one of the lucky fat girls to have a waistline! That's my only good feature : ) but I want to look like a regular woman who can shop in the regular sizes at stores. That's really all I want.
And, of course, world peace : )
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