Friday, April 27, 2007

He is Hawt!

While I have been obsessively checking calorie count lists (an apple is either 70, 74, 92 or 95 calories... make up your minds people! I'm trying to do math here!), LB has been truly productive.

First, he agreed to go shopping with me to re-select our 2007 Valentines present for each other. The one we originally chose and purchased was back-ordered several times. And when it was pushed back again, this time until the end of May, even the unflappable Laughing Boy was driven to crankity-tude.

But the Valentines Gift behind door number 2 outclassed the first one the way P!nk's abs drop kick mine to the kurb and back. Behold the dingy emptiness of this sad little hovel of an entryway...

... transforming into the lickable smoochiness of this...

(Banana Dog says "hi", BTW.) And if my craptacular lighting and complete lack of photography skills fail to impress you, here's a closeup detail shot for your perusal.

The chest was glory enough, but when the lovely lady at the shop - everything 40% off!!! sorry folks, but that calls for excessive punctuation - mentioned she had a mirror to match, I insisted that I really hadn't meant it when I picked out my birthday present and what I really wanted was to come home to this every day. Drawers! Storage! Pretty red paint! Matching mirror!

And then fairy dust and moonbeams rained down, and I even thought about vacuuming the floor! And if that wasn't enough magic and miracle MOW-land for me, while I have been whining my way through my 30 minutes on the treadmill every day compulsively checking my heart rate and wondering where my freakin' medal is, LB has been turning this:

Into this...

He is so getting lucky... as soon as either of us can move again!

F is for...

Well, I have lost my skillz at test taking in the eons since I last matriculated. I actually went up a pound with all my fancy working out and dieting. Score! And once the blood dried and the dust settled, I had a blinding headache and irrefutable proof that I truly do prefer blissful ignorance. I am officially overweight.

I am, however, just shy of the dreaded "obese" label, so I am hanging on to what little delusion I can. Even so, I've been forced to buckle under to their wretched "diet plan" to go with my side of muscle soreness.

But I am no mindless program drone. I wince tall. I hunch proud. I hobble defiant. For what it's worth, I will never refer to two ounces of chicken, a small tortilla and a tablespoon of ranch dressing as a "Meal".

And they can't make me.

...can they?

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Does Cramming include All Nighters and Snacks?

LB and I have joined a gym. I let my "lifetime" membership lapse a few years ago at the other gym when we were both out of work, and have been too lazy/cheap/overworked to rejoin since. But along with the free personal trainer sessions, to "get the most out of the experience" - we like to have "experiences" here in california - we get a free fat/fitness evaluation test. Yes, they said test. And since I am a freak of epic proportions, I have spent the ensuing days between signing up (Wednesday) and the "test" (Monday) cramming, aka working out and dieting.

So I won't be so fat and weak when I REALLY start going to the gym.

May the mocking commence.

Now if only there was a crib sheet big enough to hide my ass.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

A Little Butter and Jam, and You'll Hardly Notice...

I've resorted to "Is THAT the time? Where's the takeout menu?" a few times too often in the last fortnight. When you have to move the Styrofoam container holding the tad-too-congealed last teaspoon of tarama to get to the plastic tub with the scant quarter cup of tikka masala that's hiding behind the limp pile of bean sprouts you both picked out of the Pad Thai, and then rummage through the meat drawer looking for the sorry packet holding the tissue paper thin half slice of ham you inexplicably decided wouldn't fit on your sandwich the day before, and without any irony whatsoever call that breakfast? Time to hit the grocery store.

So imagine my simultaneously overworked and lazy behind slinking through the grocery store in the wee hours of the morning. Tired, hungry, in no mood to cook but we haven't won the lottery yet, so it's cook or not eat. And there, on the shelf...

Now THAT's what I'm talkin' about!

When I was young, I didn't really put any thought into food, except for the sheer disgustingness of all the things I wouldn't eat. Even now, just the smell of a can of tuna freshly opened makes me want to scrub my brain free of the memory of the horror that was weekly tuna casserole.

The few things I did enjoy usually had one or two things in common. Either they were so salty your cardiologist would need to lie down, or so sweet your folks would need a sedative to deal with the aftermath. Top of my all time favortie list, though, were Cap'n Crunch, corn bread, and caramel corn. Can't handle the Cap'n for breakfast these days, unless I want to try to apply a band aid to the roof of my mouth... again. (pepperoni pizza accident... don't ask). But for me the corn bread is still right up there with any activity that can be preceded by the phrase, "I probably shouldn't, but..."

Best of all, three boxes for 99 cents! Now, I have been known to make three different corn breads in a day, trying to find one that's moist inside and crispy outside, so I don't usually resort to mixes. But at 2am, ending up with the box of mix AND eggs that aren't expired AND milk that hasn't solidified is a certified miracle in our house these days. So I limited myself to only three boxes, with admirable restraint for someone who has to be up and at work again in four hours, and went home.

The first box was everything I remembered. Almost nothing is better than hot cornbread, spread with a tiny bit of butter and a slice of good ham. Salt and sugar, in a handy bite sized snack? Follow that with a custard eclair and a side of Laughing Boy, and we're talking died and gone to heaven.

Today, I decided to make up the second box, to go with the Lentils with Rosemary and Ham I've got simmering in the kitchen. And, considering the medical tenor of March, I virtuously decided to toss in a heaping spoonful of Flaxseed Meal. 'Cause it's so good for me and all. And if I'm shoveling down an entire pan of cornbread for lunch, my health is obviously my first priority.

Word of caution, bloggers. Don't. I don't know what happens when flax meal usually hits the side of a hot pan, but it smells like I decided to saute a peck of plastic bags with a couple of pounds of rubber bands. My second favorite thing about corn bread - after the taste, of course - is the way the whole house smells like caramel corn after you open the oven. My house smells like the inside of an ace bandage your teenage son left on his ankle - without bathing - the entire time he was away at summer camp.

And the usually golden yellow bread has developed a strange greyish tan tinge, more at home in a soup pot than a baked good. At least not in one that hasn't been at the bottom of a dumpster for a week.

Which makes the fact that I just finished off the last piece a little hard to explain, even to myself.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

April! Come On In, Have a Seat!

March is gone, and - at least by me - completely unlamented.

Not to jinx it all, but to recap:

Sister called last weekend, to tell me (for the first weekend in a month) that she was NOT in the ER/ICU/Surgery/having a heart attack.

Banana Dog is back in rare form, although obscenely hyper because Laughing Boy and I have been on set all week, on different shows. Thank god we've got a dog walker to come in and spoil her during the week when it's like this! Expensive, but worth every penny.

Refi went through, and the only paperwork blizzard I still have to look forward to is taxes. I know, I know. I'll probably get a chance to do them sometime during the week next week, if pilot season calms down.

LB has drastically changed his diet, for preemptive medical reasons. He's not sick, but his body wanted him to eat healthier. He's down 5 lbs already, and I'm down 3.

Cats and Doodles are fine, although one of the three totally shredded an 8-inch square of our hall carpet yesterday. It was so old and ratty, though, LB and I didn't have the energy to get into it at the time. We've got some leftover carpet in the garage, so we'll patch it when we get a chance.

Please, April. Be gentle with me. I'm really not into the pain, honest.