Dear Dad...

....Thank You For:

- refusing to buy sugar cereal when I was little

-taking me on walks and telling me about the types of trees and birds in the woods

-letting me play volleyball with you

-blasting the Beatles throughout the house

-teaching me to change a tire, jump a car, and ride a bike (when all else fails)

-being patient while I learned to drive

-helping me move

-helping me study

-helping me

-being a great Dad!

HAPPY FATHERS DAY!

Starting Over

I just worked out my spreadsheet. Not so hot this week. I may have mentioned how I have never actually managed to go more than two weeks in a row of meeting my goal for calorie intake. So, four weeks ago, I made my new goal to go four whole weeks with "Good Job" flashing up on the bottom of my charts. So close!!

....Yet so far away. My awesomely delicious cookie dough birthday cake from Coldstone Creamery (Thanks Tiff!!) and a spur of the moment get together last night have sabotaged me. I will have to try the next four weeks, I suppose. My reward, an overly expensive ($50! Isn't that crazy?) gym bag that looks like it might actually fit my change of clothes and shower accessories will have to wait. I do think I will give myself partial credit though - I managed to go three weeks, and that is still a record. So perhaps a new shirt or a book I have been wanting....

My instructor for Body Attack said something sort of inspiring today: She said people are always telling her that they would give anything if they could look like (insert pretty person's name here). And her reply is always, "Really?? Because I can make you look like that, but you're going to have to work for it."

I think the cake and beer was worth it. It's all about choices, and I'm still committed. That gym bag will be mine!!

One What? (Part II)

Ahhh...the wait is over! My loving Adam provided me with a small rice cooker as part of my birthday gift. I am not certain if this was because he was tired of eating the chewy, and sometimes crunchy rice that I have placed before him, or if he recognized my desire for this handy gadget based on context clues, like "I wish I had a rice cooker." Let's assume the latter.

One thing that stopped me from purchasing a rice cooker for myself was the lack of kitchen space for yet another appliance. But Adam found a "mini" one made by Rival which fits nicely on the closet shelf. Apparently, Rival is either not an American company, or a bit disenchanted with the common US system of units. Or perhaps the company is hoping to devise a way for rice cooker owners everywhere to become dependent on the special "rice serving cup" which comes with the appliance. Whatever the reason, the instructions caused me to screw up when making the rice.

In my own defense, the instructions: "1. Measure the amount of rice you would like to cook. A 3/4 cup measuring cup is included with your rice cooker. The "rice cooker" measuring cup makes 2-1/4 cups of cooked rice." OK, so far so good. No real indication of how many servings that is, but OK. "2. Place rice in the pot and add the corresponding amount of water. For example, if you are making 3 cups of uncooked rice, add water to the "3" mark on the pot." Hmmm...I find the little labels on the pot and see they are labled 1,2,3. I am not making 3 cups, I am making 2-1/4 cups right? I fill to just above the 2 line. This was my downfall. Being an experienced preparer of rice, I realized that the ratio of water to rice was unusual, and I corrected the error without incident. I am making 3/4 cups of uncooked rice. Is the special measuring truly necessary?? Compare this with the instructions on the rice bag: "Combine one cup of uncooked rice, and 2 cups of water." I think the average person could figure this out without introducing new units of measure like "rice cooker measuring cup."

After I had fixed the water error, Adam noted that said measuring cup is marked with lines indicating 1/4, 1/2, and 3/4. I had just filled it to the top according to the instructions. It turns out, I was right on that one. Filling to the 3/4 line on this device gives you 3/4 of 3/4, or just over half a cup. Simple as pie, eh? I think Rival may be a co-conspirtator with Chefmate in a sinister plot to require the use of special measuring devices for every appliance.

The rice turned out perfect, though the instructions gave no indication of how long it would take to cook, so this time, the other food wasn't ready yet. How's that for irony?

Flowers Are For Skinny Folk

Driving home from work today, I saw a woman in flowered capris, as is the current popular style. Allow me to rephrase - it is a current popular style for some people. For this poor woman, the capris transformed her moderately oversized ass into a rounded, flowered beacon, visible for nearly half a mile. I feel for this woman. She probably doesn't even know what's lurking behind her, and it is just not the type of thing people will tell her. She looked (at her front) in the mirror at her otherwise normally proportioned body, and thought "These look all right."

I have been there. One day, our unsuspecting flower with catch a glimpse as she turns in just the right angle and realize the horrible mistake she had made. It can happen to the best of us.

One thing I found to be immediately noticeable after the first month or so of my diet was that my own clothes appeared to fit better. I often suffered the wedgies, tight spots, and unsightly bulges of clothes that weren't clinging properly to my body. Warning - this is extremely subtle, so you will have to pay attention as you begin losing weight. It is not as though your pants will suddenly slide off your body. But I encourage you, my fellow loser, to pay attention to these subtleties, because they keep you motivated when the scale is refusing to budge.

Now, it has been about 6 months since I began, and I have noticed that I have been wedgie-free for some time. (Of course, that could be the underwear I mentioned a while back...those suckers are on top more than ever...) I have even nearly conquered the bulging of the stupid pockets on some of my gym shorts.

...Nearly.

Eeek! A New Decade!

At approximately 2:45 this afternoon, I officially left my roaring twenties behind...and said hello to....30...

Phew! There, I said it. This is not really as traumatic for me as I thought it might be when I was Jamie's age (she's 16, and would like me to mention her in my blog - You Rock, Jame!). Honestly, I am much happier with my life now than I was when I was 20. As my constant readers may know, (and I actually have at least 3 or 4 of them now!) I am fairly happy. I jest often about my trials and tribulations as I struggle to lose the caboose, but I really have a (mostly) healthy body image. I also have a great guy, a loving family, and a job that pays the rent without making me overly insane (mostly).

My birthday was always my favorite day of the year when I was a child. Sure, Christmas was a close second, but my birthday was all my own. When you have a few siblings, it is nice to have one day a year in which the focus is where it should be: on ME!! Also, my birthday was often either: the last day of school (yay), the first day of summer (woo-hoo), or a fun day at school like field day. So this made it fun for everyone. Just like Christmas morning, I would wake up at the crack of dawn and be too excited to sleep any longer.

So now, I guess I am a grown up (though I still think I have a lot of growing to do!) I go to work on my birthday. Like every other day. Kinda poopey. Still, I woke this morning, and like I always do, tried to determine what day of the week it is. For one millisecond, I thought, "It's my birthday!!" and had a tinge of that old excitement.

Then I went back to bed. It was the crack of dawn after all.

OK, I Admit It!

Many of my friends have told me stories of decidedly absent-minded things they have done since becoming mothers. They sometimes call these events "mommy moments" and they include things like burning carrots, getting into the shower fully clothed, and forgetting money when they go to the grocery store. While I do not refute the evidence that motherhood, or rather the sleep deprivation that comes with the job, has an effect on brain function, I offer a different theory: we are all nitwits. Yes, because I too have ended up in the checkout line with a cart full of groceries and nothing but a pretty face to pay for them. And as far as I know, I am not a mother.

I am a nitwit.

You are a nitwit. We are all nitwits.

Tonight was no exception. I made plans to meet a friend for her birthday, and made certain that I double check the email for the scheduled meeting time before leaving work. The only thing I forgot to check was the name of the bar we were meeting at. Duh! So after parking the car and walking to the general vicinity of the bar (it wasn't there), I called Adam with surprisingly few details to aid a Google search for the place. He valiantly accepted the quest, but to no avail, and I went home. (Of course my friend replied to my messages as I walked in the door. At least I was in the right neighborhood.) I say it again: I am a nitwit.

If someone ever had a contest to find people who had poured apple juice on their cereal, walked 20 blocks to an ATM in 90 degree weather sans ATM card, drove to Rite Aid for a forgotten item and realized they were wearing pajamas en route (kept going), and went to a meeting on the wrong day, I would win. I have come home with icky shrimp flavored versions of otherwise tasty items which I had picked up accidentally. I have driven to Pittsburgh to see a concert and left the tickets on my door in Baltimore "so I wouldn't forget them." I have gone away for the weekend and left my purse at the apartment. (My grandma had to give me gas money to get home.) I have made cookies without key ingredients. (They really couldn't be classified as cookies when they were done...) I have ordered menu items at restaurants which clearly listed an ingredient I disliked in the description in the menu.

The thing is, I know everyone has these experiences...only most people have better excuses.

Hope you had a happy birthday, Jess. I owe you a drink!

Steady....Wait For It...

I am trying SO hard to be good right now, but my stupid rice is stupidly NOT COOKING. I buy the brown rice because it is supposedly good for you, but it is consistently uncooked when I prepare it. This is because the other food cooks according to its instructions, while the rice does not. Normally, I am too impatient to wait it out, and I endure the comments from the peanut gallery regarding the "chewiness" of the rice. Today, it is still so hard, it is not edible, even though the water has evaporated and seconds ago, the smoke detector went off.

This is extremely dangerous to my fragile tummy. My friend made me banana cupcakes (thanks Maria!) which look delicious, and I want to eat them. I also want to eat some chips and salsa, some peanut butter bread, and a few almonds. I tried the counting thing again, with limited success (I had a few cherries and a strawberry and still haven't made it to 29.) I tried a glass of water, but my thoughts have wandered to me vittles, waiting for me to devour them.

So...here I am...blogging. So far this has been working....better go check on the rice again. But this is decidedly NOT the healthier option when you take into account the hundreds of calories consumed during this unbearable cooking time!!