Oh Holy Hits!

Digging photographing my meals!

Yesterday, my blog received 264 hits!! Guys, I'm so touched, but I have to admit that I'm getting a little performance anxiety now. All I have for you today is a post about how much I love My Fitness Pal... Don'tchyall overload the site, now.

It's just that I've been so down on myself after my 5-day Thanksgiving Eating Extravaganza. It was the opposite of a cleanse. It was a... dirtying(?). That doesn't sound right. Anyway, the week was a blur of turkey, stuffing, cream cheese dips, maple pecan pies, chocolate chip cookies, Dunkin' Donuts drive-thrus, and pizza slices. The soundtrack on that visual? -The instrumental version of Jingle Bells and me yelling, "Refill my Coke, please!"

I gained (wait for it) ... 14 pounds. On the grand scale of world problems, this rates right below the "Nobody gives a f***" rating.

But, I've been working so hard to maintain 180. My goal weight was 170, and I had hit 175 just before fall hit... and before I broke my foot and was basically recliner-bound for 2 weeks.

Excuses, excuses, I know. So, now while I'm still living a pretty sedentary life for the next 2 weeks (no sledding, snow angels, or snowball fights for me yet), I decided to go back to using the My Fitness Pal app and doing some light yoga (also known as playing Just Dance on the Wii while E frowns at me).

If you don't have this app for calorie counting, I strongly recommend it! My favorite feature is the bar-code scanner. I hated typing in all my foods to other calorie counters. Now I scan, choose the serving size, and I'm done! Also, once your food is in the system, you can duplicate it each day if you eat the same things. I can input my meal data in less than a minute!

I've been keeping up with it for 5 days straight and feel better already! Also, drinking at least 6 glasses of water a day has helped. As it gets closer to Christmas, I'll of course have a few "cheat days," but I'm hoping it'll all even out, and I look forward to starting a healthy new year!

Happy Anniversary! Go F*** Yourself.

A rock!

Yesterday, I got twice as many hits to my site (166!) just by using the F-word in my post! So, sing it with me! 'Tis the season to be jolly! F*** La, La, La, La! -- La, La, La, La!

Why do the holidays always have to be so hectic!? Parent meeting at day care, our anniversary, doctor appointments, holiday parties, etc.!

Our anniversary plan should have been the easy thing... Last year, Mark and I were slightly overwhelmed with having a one-year-old, but he did make secret plans to take me out to dinner while his family watched E, and it was a really nice outing for us. I felt like we actually talked to each other as adults for the first time in months.

I thought that he forgot to plan something this year, with all the craziness of the Christmas season, so I arranged for his family to watch E on the 14th, and I planned to do dinner and a movie with him.

Little did I know, he was asking them to watch her on the 22nd, so that we could go out to eat at a nice restaurant in town. I finally knew something was up when Mark said, "I was hoping to plan something for our anniversary. You know, though, my family is acting really weird about it..." I confessed that I had been making plans with them too. Then, we actually argued over whose anniversary dinner we were going to do. How lame!

As I complained to my friend Melissa at the water cooler the next morning, she said drearily, "Great. Your biggest problem is that you and your husband are too considerate of each other."

"Um, and we actually got in a, uh... fight over who was going to do the grocery shopping yesterday, too!"

She's right, though. I have few complaints. He's a good guy. I'm lucky. He definitely got the short end of the stick...

He admitted that going with my plan stole some of his thunder... and ruined the surprise of planning this year's anniversary for his wife, so I told him to get over it and that, after being married for (gulp) 8 years (!!!), it might be okay to call them our anniversary plans... I sent him the menu for my restaurant pick, and he agreed that the food looked amazing, and more reasonably priced than his gourmet, French, seafood, better-wear-panty-hose restaurant choice. My restaurant is also located conveniently near the movie theater, and the new Hobbit movie will be out that night. See what I did there...? Take notes, nerd wives!

Now that that's all settled, I'm off to finish up the week by finishing up some apartment organization and cleanup and awaiting the arrival of my best friend, Krista, who's coming this weekend!

Meanwhile, all art projects are on hold until life slows down a bit. I'm both okay with that and feeling a little down on myself about it... but that's for another post!

Merry Christmas. Go F*** Yourself.

What is wrong with people??

At work, we're arranging our annual sponsor-a-family event for Christmas. We buy gifts for a local family in need and deliver them before the holidays. I made arrangements with the Salvation Army, and information about a local family was given to us. Due to a misunderstanding on my part, we only had 3 children to buy for. Last year we had more.

So far, these are the emails that have been sent to me:

• Why don't we have more kids to buy for this year? (from a few people)
  Valid point. I explained my misunderstanding and the fact that we got a late start this year. We only have 1 week to collect gifts, but if we can have them in by the beginning of next week, I can add another family. I sent my email to the entire company. 
• Stop sending these emails to the entire company!
  Really? All... 3 emails? Is it too hard to hit your delete button 3+ times if you choose not to participate? Merry Christmas. Go f*** yourself. 
• I can't afford to buy presents for my own family. Why should I help someone else?
  See, that's the beauty of this whole "not mandatory" thing... You don't have to. When Mark and I were dating, then married, and before we had Ellie and went completely broke, each year we donated in some way -- with time, design services, presents to a local family in need, or money. We enjoyed doing that. Often older employees whose children are out of the house like to donate to a young family. They enjoy picking out a gift for a child. There are people who want to do this, and offering the opportunity through the workplace makes it easier. Personally, we can't afford to make more than a small monetary donation this year, so we'll be donating our time. 
• Why are we buying them toys? Wouldn't it be better to buy them food or clothing?
  There is an option to buy them clothing as presents, too. Most of these people have access to the local food shelf, and if you'd rather donate food to the food shelf, you can. Isn't this "free will" thing amazing?? This is a separate charity event that you can choose to participate in if you want to. For kids, a big part of Christmas is receiving toys. This doesn't mean that they're brats, greedy, or lacking a passion for the "true meaning of Christmas." They're just... kids. Also, check the list... These kids are mostly asking for Legos and Matchbox cars -- not a lot by today's standards. 
• One of them is asking for video games. If they're so poor, why do they have a game console?
  None of your f****** business! Maybe they don't. I know many families with kids who buy games to play at their friends' or cousins' houses. Maybe someone gave him the game console. Maybe someone bought it for him last year. If you're over the age of 18 and resent a 10-year-old for having a $100 gaming console and think this is an indication of him being rich, you need to check yourself.
  
  Also, don't act all high and mighty, as if we all haven't contributed to this insane American consumer-culture/Black-Friday hysteria and then sooo surprised when a kid wants a video game for Christmas.

I'M DONE!!

But I will be happily delivering the gifts on the 13th to 3 happy children who deserve a little extra Christmas cheer this holiday season.

If anyone else would like to experience the absolute joy of giving during this holiday season, contact your local Salvation Army or Food Shelf. You can donate money or find volunteer opportunities in your community!

Oh, and I put up our tree finally, last night, after E said, "I just can't wait my own Chissmiss tree."

"Get the box, Mark. We're doing this."

Dreamer Code Addendum

So... I've reached that point in the broken foot recovery process where I feel like my life is falling apart. The apartment is a mess, dishes piled up in the sink, table covered in papers, art projects, and other miscellaneous stuff. I haven't put up the tree yet, because that requires cleaning out one more bookshelf to move into E's room.

Mark set up the card table to put all our folded laundry on. E pulled off all the folded laundry and danced in it. I made her put it back, which she did... in one giant ball. So, the table is taking up my little living room, with a pile of laundry on it, and underneath it is a sea of toys, yarn balls, and anything else that grabbed E's attention over the last week. The laundry bins are sitting in the living room next to the recliner.

And instead of being able to get my house Christmas-ready, I'm sitting at work...

So, this week, as I'm feeling a little better, my goal is to do more picking up after myself and to encourage my little E to do the same.

I realized there was a slight problem with our approach to cleanup when she took a deck of cards off the table this morning, opened them, took all 52 out, and threw them into the air. They fell around her in a cloud of black and red. She danced happily, then threw the box on the floor and ran out the door to go to day care.

Don't get me wrong, I want her to feel the freedom to dance in a storm of makeshift confetti. She's my little dreamer, after all, and I feel I'm raising her by the dreamer code which is or at least would be, um...

Storm wildly through this world.
With a respect for all its wonders.
Don't ever forget that you're one of them.

Addendum: Clean up your messes!!

I love you, kid.

Hello, New York!

NYC Trip 2011

Ok, so the weekend didn’t go exactly as I had planned. Does it ever? Nope. And I’m so okay with it. Maybe it’s because I got so caught up in the outpouring of love and support at my in-law’s. They took care of me like their own daughter and sister – as they always have. We ate good food, played with E, and I spent a good majority of my time either resting my foot, reading my true crime book (happy sigh), or shopping. We decided to stay over again Saturday night after taking E to her first movie (Frozen), which she loved!

By Sunday morning, I was still a little tired after getting up with E at 7:30, so I asked Mark if I could lay down after breakfast. I drifted to sleep at about 9am and woke up feeling more well rested than I have in awhile. I reached for my phone to check the time. 3:00PM!! I couldn’t believe it. I had slept for 6 hours!

So, my plans for getting home early on Sunday, picking up the apartment, doing dishes, catching up on laundry, and putting up the tree just weren’t possible. And I pretty much didn’t care. I slept. Really slept! Without being on high alert listening for E.

I went downstairs to find her happily running around at Nini’s house, being doted on by Mark, Nini, Grandpa, Bee, cousin Christian, and pugs Alfie & Waffles. Snow falling outside, hunkered down in the little brick house, warm woodstove, and toasted tuna fish sandwiches. Who could ask for more? I love Vermont! This family. This life.

We got home last night at about 5:00, and Mark spent a few hours cleaning the apartment, doing dishes, laundry, and washing the couch-cushion covers. E had fallen asleep in the car, so I woke her up to eat a quick dinner of lentil soup and crackers, then put her in a bath. After, we snuggled and read stories in “Mama’s big bed.” Perfect end to a perfect weekend. Once she was settled, Mark and I caught up on some TV and went to bed.

Back to reality this morning, though. I snoozed for as long as I could and finally rolled out of bed and made E a quick lunch of leftover lentils (Sorry, Ell!), cheese, crackers, and applesauce. I had to wake her up, so I picked her up, cuddled her in my arms, and rocked her in the chair for a bit. She was all smiles and happy to find out that she was going to day care this morning.

I got her out the door and made my new-diet smoothie (Sorry, Me!). Then off to work.

I pulled into the office parking lot in a dreary, turkey-hangover state of mind, drunk on love and a good-old-fashioned Vermont-country-weekend. I yawned as I pulled myself out of the car, work bags in hand. Then I noticed the huge delivery truck parked in front of the door with New York plates. The back was open, packed with cubicle parts (our office is expanding) and three 20-year-olds in Yankees hats, goatees, and earrings. One was yelling in a thick New York accent, “Hey, Tony!! Hey!! You take this cabinet. Whaddya mean, ‘Where does it go?’ You bring it upstairs!!” The guy next to him chimed in, same accent, “Yeah, why are we tellin’ ya this? You know! You know!! Go do it!”

Oh, the sounds! Truck rumbling, boxes sliding, exhaust filling the air (I breathed it in greedily), and a flurry of angry but soft Rs and rushed-over Ds. I closed my eyes for a minute and said under my breath, “Oh, hello, New York!” I resisted the urge to spin around in the gently falling snow, imagining skyscrapers towering above me.

As I made my way slowly up the walk (still favoring my broken foot), one of the guys in the back of the truck noticed me, elbowed his buddy, and yelled out to Tony again – who was now struggling with the front door, as he tried, on his own, to maneuver the awkwardly oversized filing cabinet through it. “Hey Tony!! There’s a lady coming! You better hold that door for her!” Tony rolled his eyes, and his buddies laughed, but he turned and gave me a big smile then painfully waited for me to make my slow journey to the door. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Oh, no! Don’t apologize! Tony’s got this,” they laughed, “and you be careful on that floor, Miss! It’s slippery!” I laughed too and gave them a thumbs-up.

As I hobbled in the door, in my mind I was skipping. They called me “Miss,” even amidst all signs that I was at least 30, and Tony held the door for me, amidst a constant threat of being crushed by a filing cabinet. I love Vermont, I really do… but there’s nothing quite like a little dose of city-style chivalry and harsh comradery on a Monday morning. Ahh, I love New York!