Mar
4
Weekend recap
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March 4, 2007
I’m not sure whether to chalk it up to an entirely unfamiliar surge of exercise-related endorphins, or the complete and utter upheaval the Weight Watchers Flex Plan is wreaking on my system thanks to its sorrowfully austere daily caloric allotment, but I cried—ACTUALLY TEARED UP, jesus—at the end of the Turbo Jam “Punch, Kick and Jam” DVD I sloppily followed along to this morning, because the instructor was so encouraging, and seemed so sincere, and told me how proud I should be of myself for doing the whole thing, because I deserve it.
Or maybe I was just really, really grateful it was over.
I can’t even remember the last time I did such an intense workout, and let me tell you why I was finally motivated to get off my ass and throw in the video—because if you exercise, in WW you earn ‘activity points’ that translate into food you can then EAT. And let me tell you, 20 points goes way too damn fast, and I don’t know what cruel god made rice cakes have actual CALORIES (what the everloving fuck, it’s a hunk of flavored styrofoam, even the dog isn’t interested in them and she’s been known to EAT HER OWN BARF) but on this particular system every single thing you eat must be accounted for and it all adds up so quickly. Even if you’re eating bullshit food like cans of green beans and salads made with cauliflower and broccoli (you want to talk about bedfarts, christ) and pitiful little bowls of cereal measured out in precise half-cup portions.
Oh, and let’s not forget cottage cheese. The only time in my life that I ever eat cottage cheese is when I’m dieting, and its squeaky, curdy texture is as nostalgic as listening to “Lady in Red”, only instead of picturing myself at a middle school dance, slowly circling at arm’s length with some Gotcha!-clad boy, I’m remembering all my other fakeout, you-think-you’re-eating-but-that’s-only-because-your-mouth-is-moving foods: low calorie popcorn, Diet Coke, pickles, baby carrots.
I bought all these foods the other day, to have an arsenal on hand when 9:30 PM rolls around and I start feeling as though I would kill—literally kill someone, maybe with an ice pick—for a box of Nutter Butters. I was rooting around in the pickle jar last night when JB did the waggling-eyebrow thing at me and said, “Pickles, hmm?” and I had to say it had nothing to do with pregnancy, for god’s sake. Dill pickles are all about having something crunchy to eat, and while they are a poor substitution for a peanut butter cookie, at least they feel somewhat substantial, unlike those beshitted rice cakes.
Also, they’re possibly the porniest food on earth, assuming you lasciviously suck the briny juice from the pickle after you fish it, dripping, from the jar.
In addition to flapping around in the living room to a workout video (it was an awesome workout but I’m sure I looked like a complete idiot trying to follow some of the more complicated punching-and-kicking moves. That’s one nice benefit of exercising at home: no one, aside from Riley, can see my lack of coordination, or my unattractively beet red face), my weekend has included, among other things, a trip to Pottery Barn Kids for a fantastic little armchair I was inspired to buy after seeing one at Ashley’s, and an impromptu pediatrician visit after Riley started looking very much like he had an eye infection (nope, just the byproduct of a cold, but he did have an infection in one ear for which he was prescribed antibiotics—a twice-per-day dosage for 10 days, does that seem like a long-ass time for a little kid to have to take Amoxicillin, or am I just paranoid?), and now, a mellow Sunday afternoon at home while JB is out with a buddy side-scan sonaring Lake Washington in hopes of finding more shipwrecks to dive.
Riley and TURBO JAM. Note incorrect positioning of armchair.
Riley’s new favorite way to sit at the dining room table. Dude, get a phone book! Or three.
Trucks trucks trucks TRUCKS.
The boys, dancing to “White and Nerdy”.
So, so very cool. Yet nerdy.
For something different: evergreen branch, post-rainfall.
Okay, so what about you? What did you do this weekend?
Mar
2
And the kitchen sink
Filed Under Uncategorized | 81 Comments
March 2, 2007
Thanks to clickety-clicking around on Flickr, I am currently obsessed with the notion of customizing all my pants (and Riley’s pants! and JB’s pants! and Dog’s furry flanks!) with a pair of pistols. SO. COOL.
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Say, have you ever been in bed with your bed-mate, and you’re drifting off into sleep, you’re in that fuzzy stage of nearly being out completely and you’re cradled in comfort and rest and peacefulness and all of a sudden you rip a startling, rapid-gunfire-sounding fart? Which you had no warning about whatsoever, due to your various mental functions shutting down for the night, and now any hope of peace is gone as you lie there completely frozen, your eyes wide and staring at nothing, hoping against hope that it sounded louder in your own head and that no one else noticed? And in the darkness comes an amused snicker, and lo, all dignity is lost. Your ass has betrayed you.
Not that . . . I mean, I think I read about that in a book once.
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You know what, in my opinion, both sucks and blows? Fat-free coffee creamer. There are things in life that shouldn’t be fat-free, and coffee creamer is one of them. It’s watery and crappy and the nondairy variety is made out of cornstarch, or plastic, or something.
:::
I feel weirdly guilty that I’m not trying to turn Riley into a potty prodigy. On the one hand, I think he’s too young, period, but I keep reading about parents who started putting Little Lord Boogerface on the potty when he was 12 months and after lots of hard work, only a year later, he was potty trained! I’m all for early learning but shouldn’t he be, I don’t know, a little more capable of grokking the general potty concepts first?
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Riley hugs us both goodnight before bed now. Man, it’s cute.
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We haven’t had a birdfeeder in months because of the rat problem that cropped up as a result of seeds falling on the ground, and I’ve been missing the birds. Last weekend we went to one of those Wild Birds Unlimited stores—well, JB did while I waited with Riley in the car, because we tried to take him in and it was PROBLEMATIC—and a very nice lady let him know that part of the problem is the type of birdseed we were buying. If you get the kind that is just seeds, shelled sunflower seeds, then the birds don’t get in there and kerfuffle around spraying hulls and crap all over the ground. It’s like a no-waste type of seed, they eat all of it instead of dropping parts. We also bought a birdfeeder with a tray underneath that catches anything that does drop. So the birds are back, and so far, no rodents. Awesome!
:::
The birdseed thing leads me into the question I wanted to ask you guys. If you could have any job in the world, what would it be? Putting aside actual restrictions like money or time or even skill.
I think I would most enjoy a job where I help people, in some creative way, by applying some specialized knowledge. I’m not saying I’d like to work in a birdseed store, but I think there’s something immensely satisfying about listening to someone describe a problem or interest, and being able to help them out, and hopefully making a positive impact in their life. Jobs I’m not actually interested in but hit this area perfectly: floral designers, travel agents, printers, wedding coordinators.
Maybe something that involves writing, but done for individuals rather than companies. A book that people could enjoy would be great, but I also like the idea of more personal, one-on-one interactions.
Other, less vague dream jobs: comic book author/illustrator (remember, I said we could ignore SKILL), Pulitzer-winning journalist, creepy consumer marketing trends analyst for Giant Conglomerate Corp, and online small business retailer.
What about you?
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