Thursday, February 28, 2013

The Romantic Lives of Fifth Graders

Leila has a friend over today, no one you know, and she was very open with me about her love life.

She's 10.

Leila tried to stop her from saying something, but she said, "Who cares?  Its over!"  I was cool as a cucumber, hoping for lots of details.  It went a little something like this: (names have been changed to protect the little animals.)

Girl: Yeah, me and Boy A were dating.

Leila: You weren't dating!

Girl: Yes!  We went to Lucky's after school sometimes.

Me: Did Boy A know you were dating?  Did you talk about it?

Girl: Oh yeah.  He would text me and ask "Do you love me" and would be all "yes." But its over now.

Me: Does he know its over?

Girl.  Sure.

Me: How did it end?

Girl: Well, Girl B starting spreading rumors about us, and I didn't want to be, like, rumor girl, so I ended it. 

Me: Were the rumors that you were dating?  Weren't they true?

Girl: Yeah, but she was saying that we were kissing and stuff, and that wasn't true.

Me: So no kissing.

Girl: Well, not really.

Me: So, kissing? 

Girl: Well, once I pressed my teeth to his knee.

Me: You kissed his knee?

Girl: No, he just kicked me in the hot tub. 

Me: Ah.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013


Leila had a basketball game today.  It was a massacre. Her team lost 20 - 2.  That is not a typo.  Our two best shooters weren't at the game, and our girls looked like lumbering dinosaurs compared to these tiny, fast Mt. Carmel girls.  One of our girls would go to pass, and there would be no one to pass to because the team seemed kind of spaced out, and the opposing team would just swoop in and grab the ball.  They should have thanked us every time.  My whole family came to see the game, even my brother, and it was just depressing.  The one high light was that the one, lonely basket we did get was shot by Leila.  I think she was more surprised than anyone else.  In fact, she always looks somewhat shocked when the ball ends up in her hands.  Like she's never seen a basketball before, and she's not quite sure whether to dribble it or eat it. 

The other girls have their own problems, like the one who can dribble and run like a madwoman, but once she gets to the end of the court she loses all control and falls down and the ball goes out of bounds.  Or the kid who keeps dribbling right on her own feet and the ball ends up rolling into the hands of the opposing team.  Or the girl that shoots baskets from anywhere on the court that the mood strikes her; 30 feet from the basket, and she's launching the ball over the heads of the other players who can only watch as it bounces off the backboard.  She never makes those shots.  They also keep dribbling and passing away from the basket once they get near it, rather than shooting.  Like they're thinking that the opposing team hasn't had enough opportunity to get the ball from them, and needs a few more chances. 

Then there's the wrestling over the ball.  Two, sometimes three girls clutching the ball and falling on the floor, rolling around until the ref blows the whistle.  Its comedy. 

We won our last game, but we just looked like keystone cops out there today.  Woof.  Really.  It was brutal.
Fancy Free-throw Footwork

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Blitz Update

Its Saturday night as I write this.  I have been doing so good on the blitz this week.  Seems like the week after my period is as good as the week of my period is bad.  I had no booze, only a few cookies, and I found the self control I needed to get the job done was in ample supply.  Its like my body presses a reset button after my period, and the closer I get to the next period, the more I'll eat.  I ending this week 1600 calories under budget for the week, and by the time dinner rolled around, I had 1035 calories left for the day.  I decided to go for it.

I had a cheeseburger, fries, a coke, and frozen yogurt in a waffle cone with strawberries and kit kat pieces.  I'm not topping it off with a glass of wine.


I'll continue this post on Monday after the weigh in.  There better be a pay off.

It is now Tuesday, and I weighed myself this morning.  The scale said I was up two lbs.  Fuck you, scale!  I did not accept that.  I wasn't hungry for breakfast, so a few hours later I weighed myself again.  This time it said that I was up 3 lbs.  You asshole!  So I weighed myself again, and finally - FINALLY! - it came to its senses: I was down one lb.  One measly lb. after my week of perfection.  Bastard.

I think I should weigh myself on Fridays, before the debauchery of the weekend starts.  I went to an Oscar party on Sunday where I drank a ton of wine and had a lot of crab rangoon and cookies.

I am starting to see changes, though, and my neighbor asked me if I'd lost weight.  I was wearing my suck-it-in pants, but I'll take all the positive reinforcement I can get.  

I'm going to try again tomorrow.  This will not stand.

Monday, February 25, 2013

The Great Tomatillo Search of 2013

I got this slow cooker cook book for my birthday in November, and the beauty part is I don't own a slow cooker, but this book has instructions for slow cooker and dutch ovens, which I do have.  Everything I've made from this book has been outstanding.  The one thing that I wasn't super excited about was the Italian braised short ribs, and that was because Rob got some meat with a big marrow bone in it instead of short ribs, and the result was way too rich.  The leftovers are still in the freezer and there they will stay until we no longer feel guilty and we throw them out.

Last week, I had a plan to make chili verde.  The recipe calls for 2 12 oz cans of whole tomatillos.  I started at Whole foods, where I like to buy meat. I got the pork shoulder, but they didn't have the tomatillos.  I went to 5 more supermarkets to get tomatillos, and the closest I got was a label on a shelf in the ethnic food aisle of Safeway.  I had already spent a small Whole-Foods-fortune on the pork shoulder, so I couldn't shit can the whole idea, which is what I desperately wanted to do. 

Store number 6 was a large, Latino market two towns over.  I thought this was a sure thing.  After a fruitless search (pun somewhat intentional) I grabbed the manager who told me that whole, prepared tomatillos were kind of rare. 

Why, Williams Sonoma, do you include an ingredient in your recipe that does not exist?  Why would you do this to me?  To the world? 

The manager said I should just use fresh tomatillos, and lead me over to them since I didn't know what they looked like.  He instructed me how to peel them, wash them, blanch them, and put them in a blender.  Then he loaded me up with a pound and a half of them and sent me on my way. 

I guess its too late to make a long story short, but I followed his instructions, and you know what?  So easy, no problem, and the chili verde was fantastic. 

I'm not sure this whole thing was worth writing about.  Its not really that interesting.  It seemed like it would be when I was driving all over the place looking for tomatillos, but now that I'm reading over, meh.  Can't win 'em all.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Sick Day

Miss Leila is home sick today.  She has been feeling crappy all weekend, but her fever is gone now, and she just has a sore throat and a cough and a stuffy nose.  General malaise.  She felt well enough today that she wanted to make cookies for Daddy.  Chocolate chip bacon cookies.  I went to the store this morning and got bacon and chocolate chips, and she did the whole thing until it was time to put the lumps of dough on the pans.  She hit that wall you hit when you've been sick and you're starting to feel better, but you're not quite there. 

So now she's in bed listening to a Harry Potter audiobook, and I'm stuck babysitting the cookies.  This is my least favorite part of the cookie baking process.  You're up, you're down, you can't settle in to watch anything because BING! you have to get the cookies out of the oven and load up a new pan. 

By the way, you read right: these are chocolate chip bacon cookies.  Its an experiment.  I'll let you know.  Although, I'm not feeling that great either and have absolutely no appetite for cookies or bacon, let alone together in one cookie. 

BING! hold on a sec', gotta get the cookies...

I'm back.  The Blitz was not overly blitzy last week.  I'm only down .4 lbs.  Better than a kick in the head, but nothing to crow about.  This week will be a different story.  Less wine, more starving.  My overwhelming sugar cravings should be mostly gone for another three weeks, so let's see what I can accomplish.  I have very little appetite right now.  I may be coming down with something.  Let's hope its something that makes me want very little to eat, but doesn't make me feel too bad.  I'll win this thing yet!

BING!  Alright, alright I'm coming!

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Before and During. After is going to take a While

My baby is growing up.  She's entered the awkward phase.  Luckily, so far, its not that awkward.  She's still beautiful (at least her mother thinks she is) and she's charming and smart and funny, but now she comes with accessories:


And now:

We are calling her Metal Mouth, Brace Face, and Woo Woo Train Tracks.  She has a good sense of humor about it.  She was so excited to get braces, like it was the best day of her life, and now, two days later, not so much...  She's sore, her cheeks hurt, she's whiny, and I'm trying to be sensitive.  

Note the pimples on the forehead.  Poor thing: its only just beginning.  To add insult to injury, she has her 11 year check up today where she will be seen mostly naked by her male doctor (gasp!) and she will get two shots.  Minimum.  Adolescence is sucks.

She'd want me to add the following photo.  Actually, she probably wouldn't want me to add any photos, but I'm gonna anyway.  I just plunked down a small fortune for those braces, they're mine, I can do what I want with them.


Monday, February 11, 2013

Do you know what Time it Is?

You know what time it is?  Its Girl Scout Cookie time.  A time of year I used to look forward to, indulge in, salivate over.  But now there's the Blitz.  The stupid, ruining-my-life Blitz. 

Because I like to support local girl scouts, having been a scout myself, and because I have no self control and freakin' love girl scout cookies so much, I just bought six boxes of cookies.  Two boxes of thin mints, for the purists in this house, and because they're the best deal, and four boxes of Tagalongs, those wonderful shortbreads with a dollop of peanut butter covered in chocolate.  My favorites

They are now sitting on the dining table, taunting me.  Mocking me.  I'm extra hungry, too, because I didn't have a proper lunch.  Mostly because I drank extra wine last night. 

For the first time, I checked the calories on these Tagalongs.  These little fuckers have 140 calories per serving, and a serving is two cookies.  I have easily eaten an entire box of them in one day before, so almost 1000 calories worth of cookies.  Is it any wonder I'm such a cow?

They are so delicious, though.  Its breaking me heart to sit here and not eat any.  I wished I loved exercise as much as I love food.  I said this wouldn't become a weight loss blog, and I'm sorry to bore you with talk of calories and longing, but fucking Girl Scout Cookies?  During period week??  Did you ever see Kung Fu Panda?  Remember the part where he is up in the rafters eating Monkey's almond cookies, and he's just stuffing them in his face and crumbs are flying everywhere?  That's who I want to be right now.  The universe is testing me...

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Oh Boy

I'm having trouble with the Blitz today.  I'm getting my period next week, so this is usually the week that I eat my way through all categories of sugar items: cake, ice cream, chocolate, skittles, cookies, frosting, french toast, Cinnabon, hot fudge sauce, kettle corn, caramel corn, boysenberry syrup, candied nuts, buttermilk pancakes, orange chicken, shall I go on?  Notice there was no fruit in that list.  Besides the boysenberry syrup.  I also indulge cravings for salty things like chips, burritos, cashews, Thai curry, Mongolian beef, salami, fried eggs, bacon, hashbrowns (all in one bite) onion rings, burgers, kettle corn, salt, butter, salty butter, grilled cheese, shall I go on?  I also drink more.  And shop more.  I get indulgent in every way.  If I buy myself clothes, you have to assume I'm about to get my period. 

Today would be the day that I would make a batch of cupcakes and then eat at least half of them before Leila gets home from school, and hide the liners under the trash in the trash can.  Or I'd go McDonalds and get a cheeseburger mini meal.  Or both.  Either way, it would be delicious.

I don't want this to turn into a weight loss blog, or a food blog, but its all I can think about today. 

I haven't eat anything in about an hour and a half.  I'm taking it one moment at a time. 

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Blitz Update

Time for a Blitz update.  I'm losing.  Double meaning there: I am losing weight, but I'm also losing the competition.  Hawaii threw me off course.  All that alcohol, and those damned Maui potato chips are so good.  I walked almost every day, and I was pretty good about the calories, except for the booze.  Take the booze out of the equation and I was a super star, but that is, unfortunately, not how it goes.  I was only up .2 lbs. after the trip, but I forgot to weigh myself before I left so I could really have been up 2.2 lbs.  I'm glad I don't know for sure. 

Then, I weighed myself yesterday and I was up another .2 lbs.  or maybe more.  I can't remember.  I've blocked it out.  It was depressing.  I ate out some last week, and there was the super bowl, and I JUST LOVE FOOD TOO MUCH, OKAY?

I felt lighter this morning, though, so I weighed myself again, and I was down 2.2 lbs.  That's 4.8 lbs. over all.  Not bad, but my opponent/cheer leader is ahead by a few tenths of a pound.  I will crush her!  Just kidding.  I will only crush her if I sit on her. 

I also found out recently that I am anemic again.  I don't know why, probably my diet, but I have to send in a stool sample to be sure there are no microscopic traces of blood in my poop.  Honestly.  Of course, I couldn't wait for my doctor to explain how to send in a stool sample before I start saying things like, "How'd you like to have that job?  Sifting through people's poo?  Do I need a special tupperware or something?" and she hands me and envelope and I'm ashamed of my poo talk with my doctor. 

I have been so mind numbingly exhausted, and at least now I know why.  I indulged my anemia this morning and slept until 11:40!  It was so wonderful, but I'm still only 75% awake. 

I'm hungry.  I want cake.  And ice cream.  I'm taking a little break from booze, but I want sugar in the worst way.  I have 879 calories left for the day, and I have to save it all until dinner so I can pig out.  Although I don't think 879 calories is really considered pigging out.  Its probably one glass of wine and a salad and a mini drumstick ice cream cone thingy.  I hate losing weight.  It is sucks, as Leila used to say.

No more weight loss talk.  It just makes me want a donut.  Its currentlty 2:46 p.m. and I'm still in my bathrobe after my big sleep-in.  All the animals are sleeping and they look so happy.  Maybe I need a little nap.  Sleeping is a great way to not eat. 

You don't have to worry, I will tell you all about how you submit a stool sample.  I know you're wondering!

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Hanging Ten. Whatever that Means

I know, I know.  I was in Hawaii, and my re-entry has not been smooth, but I'll get to that another time.

Wanna know what I did in Hawaii?  I SURFED!  You read that correctly.  With my dead foot and my arthritic knee and my in-the-way boobs, I surfed.  I got up on the surfboard for about three whole seconds.  I sucked at it, and I have never worked so hard in my life, but I did it, and I was majorly stoked.  Rob was pretty good, Leila was pretty good, and I was terrible, but that's okay.  I had always wanted to try it, and now I have. 

I asked my dad to take pictures.  He and my mom sat on chairs overlooking our waves and cheered us on, and my dad said he took "tons" of pictures.  I was suspicious.  My dad never takes "tons" of pictures.  He still lives in the era of the 24 exposure roll of film, and is not yet hip to the 8 gb memory card.  I was right to be suspicious.  Here are some of his pics:

This is a shot of my ass.  On the grass.  Thanks, Dad.

Again, my ass.  There are six more pics like this one.  This was also the best I looked surfing all day, even though I wasn't on a surf board or anywhere near the water.

This is a hen with her chicks.  While this picture and the other one just like it was being taken, I was probably up on the surf board for those precious three seconds.

This is me kneeling on the surf board.  Behind the bushes.

Best picture of Leila.  Its not a bad one, but she had some excellent runs, especially her last one.  My dad didn't photograph that one, though, because they got bored and left before the lesson was over.  

 This is Saint Rob looking like a pro (except for that his wave is only one inch high) Of course my dad gets a catalog shot of Rob.  They like him so much better than me its obnoxious.

And this is best shot of me taken all day.  I fell off shortly after this.  I fell off a lot.

So there you have it.  Surfing.  Dude.  Moon Doggy.  

I also paddle boarded, which looks much easier and more zen-like than surfing, but I assure you its not.  Not in the ocean anyway.  I went out on that thing and got up.  I looked like this
What you can't see in this image is the fact that my knees are wobbling like rubber bands, and what you can't hear is me chanting, out loud, "You can do it.  You can do it.  You can do it.  No you can't!  Yes you can."  Followed by a big splash as I fall backwards into the water, getting a nose full.  

I popped up and held on to the paddle board while I was catching my breath, and saw Rob throw his glasses at some stranger on the shore and dive into the waves, swimming over to me like a shark was chasing him.  I asked a woman near me who was calmly paddle boarding around like it was no thing, "Does he think I'm drowning?"  By the time he got to me I was back up on the paddle board, not on my feet or anything fancy like that, and I was all, "What was that all about?"

It is nice to know that I am married to a man who will swim his little ass off to save his wife who is stranded with a paddle board out in the ocean.  So romantic.  Since he was out there anyway, I made him give me a ride back to shore.  Too much salt water up my nose to do any more paddle boarding:

When I was back up on the beach, a man said to me, "Your husband tossed me his glasses before he went out to save you."  Its nice to be saved, I guess, but not when you don't need saving.  Then you just feel like a helpless girl.  Of course my parents were much more impressed by Rob's ability to swim than they were by my getting up on a paddle board.  There's no winning.

We also zip lined, which you should be very impressed with.  I was the first screamer, and I got 67 bug bites.  I don't need to do it again, but I'm glad I did it.  

So, add to this story a few Mai Tais, Mimosas, Tequila Sunrises, a book, some podcasts, naps and food, and there you have the whole story of my trip to Hawaii.

Aloha and Mahalo.