Baby Tea Leaves: February 2009

Saturday

Seinfeld

I saw Jerry Seinfeld this week and I love him love him love him! He's my favorite. And I have a story about that, but first I want to say that I was literally crying laughing during his show. Crying! Tears streaming, stomach hurting, the whole thing. Especially when he went on a rant about the Cialis commercial with the people in the two bathtubs, have you ever seen this? Every time I see this I wonder howwhywhat?? is with the two people sitting in separate bathtubs which are placed in a lake. It makes no sense.

And when he went on a tirade about it -- I'll tell you what, if you're dragging a cast iron tub out into the middle of nowhere, maybe that could be why you don't have any energy for lovemaking.

I was in tears.

So I'm outing myself here. I'm a complete Seinfeldaholic.

I don't know if you know this about me, but I know pretty much every line to every episode and probably can name that episode in one note.

It's my gift. Abusing television shows and movies that I love by watching them constantly until they're worn out and I have to buy new ones is what I do. And when my husband has the remote, he makes sure to try and distract me when he sees that Twister or Sweet Home Alabama or Bridget Jones is on TNT or Oxygen again because he knows he'll be stuck watching it if there's nothing else on. No matter if I've seen it one bajillion times.

I didn't even really watch Seinfeld when it was on, come to think of it. I got hooked on the reruns on TBS a few years later and I've seen every episode at least three hundred times, probably like most people. My favorite episode is the one where Jerry wears the fur coat and George has the really fat wallet and Jerry carries a manpurse. (But it's not a purse, it's EUROPEAN!) And here's a tip: if someone tells you, "I like your purse!", don't respond by saying, "It's not a purse, it's European!" and think that they'll know what you're talking about. Because even though you will be laughing on the inside and thinking you're the most hilarious person on the planet, everyone will stop, look at you like you're totally rude, and then your mom will tell you later, "What was that business about the European purse?!"

Long ago when I lived in New York City, my friends and I went to a comedy club. We were crossing the street to go in when a Porsche came zooming up the street and stopped just short of my friend, who also stopped like a deer in headlights and was close enough to put her hand on the hood. And she shared a moment with Jerry that was just like in Ferris Bueller (another one of my abused movies) when Ferris was almost run over by his sister when he was running home and he stands there staring at her in the car, realization washing over him that this was his sister...

We all realized who was in the car and we thought it was the greatest thing in the world that my friend almost got hit by Jerry Seinfeld. We laughed about it all night (and still do, really...) But that was back when we were in our 20s and we didn't get angry over such things as almost being hit by a car.

Turns out, among the no-names performing at this comedy club was a little-known comedian named Jerry Seinfeld who was not on the headliner list at all because had he been, the tickets would have been a million dollars. But in New York, sometimes comedians would just do a "drop in" to try out their new stuff. Lucky us! Which is what he must've been doing because a couple nights later, he was on Letterman with all the same material, something about putting so much stuff in a pizza these days that soon they're going to bake people right into the crust and they'll have to eat their way out!

So that was the night that we had gotten free tickets (oh I forgot to mention that the tickets had been free??) to sit in the front row and accidentally see Jerry Seinfeld and the night my friend almost got run over by his Porsche. These are the great things about living in New York. An ordinary night can turn extraordinary in one split second. Gosh I miss it.

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Congrats to Danielle at Alberts Family! She wins this week's wonderful Quest prize donated lovingly by Pubsgal!

Friday

Fat Ticker Friday!

I'm starting this morning off with a migraine. Last night we saw Seinfeld (and I have a story about that I'll be posting in a day or two, he was awesome! I was crying! He's hilarious!) and at dinner I had red wine, which sometimes does it to me. I've had this since last night. I've tried everything and Poops coming into our room at 6 o'clock this morning with his jingle bell bracelet didn't really help things along. But I'm coffeeing right now and I've migraine-pilled so hopefully soon something will give.

Whelp, I'm also starting this morning off with no weight loss. No gain, but no loss either. So let's sum it up. For the last 12 weeks, because this Sunday will be the end of my 12 week training, I've lost two pounds. Yes, I'm a little disappointed. That's pretty lame. Just to show you that's what happens when you keep exercising but let the diet part slide a little. What did I learn? Of course, you gotta do it all. It really is, at least for me, all or nothing. Not that I really learned this, I guess you can say I just confirmed it. But I've trained for the half-marathon, and after our final 10-mile run last Sunday, I do think I'm ready. I do think I will be able to do this. I do think I may finish last, but I know I will finish. And not really any skinner, but definitely filled with more confidence. No matter what, it's still been a good year. This time last year I was 35 pounds heavier and squeezing into a size 16. So that's still something.

So how did you do???? Be sure to leave me a comment this week because there's a prize up for grabs!! Pubsgal contributed this prize and it's AWESOME! I've been staring at it in awe all week. It's a Sigg water bottle and it's no lame plasticky thing. It's awesome, it's aluminum, lightweight and just plain old really really cool. So keep us posted on your progress, my deadline may be approaching but I will still be cheering everyone on!

I'll be posting the winner tomorrow morning and I'll keep you posted on my run on Sunday. I can't believe it's here already! I'm picking up my bib number today! I already have the nervous knots in my stomach and I think I'll feel like this the entire weekend until 6 a.m. on Sunday when I'm standing at the starting line. I'm so excitedscared! Did you see the progression by the way? Can you tell that during this post it just dawned on me that I'll be running a half-marathon in two days? (I'm getting nauseous.)

I felt ready about three minutes ago, but now I'm not so sure! Did I do enough? Did I train enough? Did I do enough? Oh God, I hope so! It's too late now!!! I'm going to have to invoke the great Eminem quote... "So here I go with my shot, feet fail me not -- This may be the only opportunity that I got."

I am officially freaking out. OK. It'll be fine. It's just like my husband said. You move your feet, a lot, for a while, until you're done. Right? It's just that easy.

Oh, I'm feeling a little lightheaded.

Thursday

Lentil

The Lenten season has begun and because I am Catholic, it is this time every year that I renew my faith and commitment to the Catholic church. This past year (I will admit to the world) that I have set a really bad example by skipping church over and over again. Mostly out of fear that my two children wouldn't sit through the whole mass.

We went a few times when Mini was a tiny baby and Poops was just under 2. We tried sitting in the "cry" room, which (as the name implies) is the place where children and parents go when there is crying (usually by the child). But it's become a place where parents bring their children to run around and play (no judging here) and then my child wants to play and can't understand why I don't let him, and then we spend the whole time sweating and having to leave the cry room to go outside because he won't sit still even in the cry room. And we can't hear the mass anyway over the noise in the cry room. (But I'm not judging, especially because it's Lent.)

In fact, I've been so far away from church lately that I really only knew it was Lent because the fish sandwich commercials were popping up on tv.

And that's really bad.

So that's my Lentil this year. (By the way, my family makes up terms. Lentil is what my family calls the sacrifice that we choose to make during Lent). The kids are at an age (almost 3 and 14 months) where I think that the two of them sitting still for 45 minutes is even remotely possible, so for Lent, instead of giving something up, I will return to church. And with the children. I had better let my husband in on this because he's more scared of going to church with the kids than I am. So I was wondering, to the churchgoing families out there, how do you get the children to sit through mass? Is there bribery involved? Candy? Toys? Because when I grew up and went to church, the threats of violence were enough to keep me quiet. I really don't know how she (she, being my mom) did it, because my sister and I were both really good in church (and she reminded me of that recently ~~which made me think that she thinks I'm doing something wrong here.~~)

Any tips would be greatly appreciated.

Wednesday

I Heart Faces

There's a little blog circling the internet and I really love it mostly because I love the name. It's called i Heart Faces. I told my sister once I was going to start a blog that was just closeups of my babies' faces because I take pictures like this almost every day. (Now I know why mom did this to me. And right up until high school, too, where she would be seen right up in my business to get that closeup even when I was 17.) We used to make fun of her and her gratuitous close-up pictures. Now I take them.

Just one of the many ways I've seen myself morph into my mother.

Long story short, this is my very first entry into the I Heart Faces photo blog contest and you should check it out too. It's really sweet.

Wordless Wednesday: After a Long Day

Tuesday

Poopy Face and Eyes

We're getting pretty good at potty training but I won't lie.

It's been messy.

There are days when I feel like I'm covered in it. I'm cleaning it off the floor (you know, close but not close enough), off the toilet (because now he's so excited he's actually doing it that he jumps off the potty to show me before he's actually finished. I know. Lucky me.) Off myself. Off of him. Add that to a one-year-old who's not even close to potty training yet but enjoys his solid foods and sometimes a girl can feel as if the smell is permastuck in her nose forevermore.

Sure, my life is full of poo. (But really, whose isn't?)

But I have to say, I'm an optimist. You could say I'm a toilet's half-full type-a gal.

Sure there's poop and there's an accident here and there, but we've really shared some memories during this whole process. We've gone through hours of reading books on the potty, singing songs, running away from the potty because we've been scared of it, flushing a million times in a row, unraveling the toilet paper down to the roll, using ~~chocolate and lollipops~~ charts and stickers as bribery (I'm not above it...), cheers, fears, accomplishments, laughs, cries, potty victory dances... Oh yes, we've been through it all. It's better than "Cats".

And sure, every once in a while I'll still catch him running into his room, slamming the door and hiding in the corner to do his business until I burst in like I'm putting out a fire and, yell, "I gotcha!" and whisk him away to the toilet (because I know all his dirty secrets -- it is true as I always suspected, that moms have eyes behind their heads and can read minds...). But I am proud to say that as of this writing, we are on a good 80 percent of potty mastery. We are this close (my finger and thumb are positioned but an inch away from each other.)

The easiest part was pee. He's always been pretty good at that one. (Now to figure out when to teach him how to stand up and do it...)

But the poop's been tough. He's been scared of doing it for a while. Sitting there for a half hour, only to poo about a second after putting his underpants back on. But he's starting to come around and I might be just as excited as him and not even because of the prospect of less poo in my life. There is true happiness involved. And I mean total and utter, sheer two-year-old joy! Because the other day when we were at my parents' house, he did it all by himself (oh, the pride he had...) And we all knew it because we heard yelling from the bathroom (he likes his privacy by the way). He was yelling for my dad, "Papaaaaaaa!", to come into the bathroom.

Him: Yook it, Papa!! Yook it!! I did it!!
Him (louder): Yook it Papa! Poopy faces! Poopy eyes! Poopy faces!!

Of course, our interest was piqued. (What is this? Poopy faces?) We didn't quite understand what he was saying until we all, my mom, my dad and I, alongside of my proud son, crowded around the toilet and peered in.

Yep. Perfect little round droplets shaped in one big poopy face with big poopy eyes.

Yes, he's creative too.

He actually made a poop face. And yes, it even had poop eyes.

And he must've bonded with "Mr. Poopy Face and Eyes" too because he was upset when it was time to say goodbye and send him to the big toilet in the ground. He let out a big whine, "Noooo poopy face!!!!" And then Mr. Poopy was gone and there was silence. I was even sad for a second.

But then there were high fives all around and a lollipop and Mr. Poopy Face and Eyes became a distant memory. So here's to you, Mr. Poopyfaceandeyes.

We salute you.

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Ps. If you're in the Quest for Greatness, read below for this week's prize.

Monday

Quest Giveaway

Hello Quest for Greatnesses, are you there?? Can you hear me???

Papa can you hearrrr me???

We have presents this week so I hope you're out there! Things are winding down here and we're hitting deadlines...

My run is next Sunday. Clara's got her pushups on Saturday... Pubsgal just rocked a 5k and set a new goal... Time to toot horns and start cheering from the sidelines!

Friday, make sure you check in for Fat Ticker Friday, sign the linky and leave a comment if you've already signed up for The Quest, because Pubsgal's sponsoring a giveaway!

Isn't it pretty? It's a Sigg water bottle. Not just any water bottle either, this thing's pretty and it calls itself "The World's Toughest Water Bottle." It's aluminum, virtually indestructible and above all, eco-friendly, which is what we're all trying to do these days on this planet. Actually it reminds me of all of us chicks... Pretty on the outside, tough on the inside. Right?

Make sure you stop by Friday to weigh in and update us on your challenges! You could git yerself a prize.

Sunday

One Week Out

It's hard to write about running when the Oscars are on! I love the red carpet! I love dresses! I didn't see any of the movies that are nominated, not one single one. I didn't even try. Isn't that sad? I really want to see Slumdog Millionaire though.

I'm so distracted right now but I'll get this out quickly. The half-marathon is less than one week away. That's it! One! One week!

I'm scared.

We ran our final long run today, the big 10 miler. TEN. 10. My legs are kind of on fire, I sat in the bathtub for a while in the hot hot water, but overall the run was good. And we had a strong finish so I know we will be able to run this next week. I wasn't sure going into it if we were ready, but I think we just might be afterall.

As I was sitting in the bathtub, stretching my legs out, listening to the water droplets hit the water (drip....drip......drip....) and the world going on outside, the motorcycle driving by, the television in the living room, the little voices in the monitor, I was thinking about how the human body both amazes and confuses me.

And I, as I so often do, began compiling the blog post in my head. And I was going to launch into this big overture here about what I was thinking. But instead I'll give you the short version: something like, how it will lose weight for months, but then all of a sudden not. Or how it will fail to carry me to a full pregnancy but then find a way to run a distance of ten miles (or more). Or how it will then decide that it will carry my through a whole 41 weeks of pregnancy, but then tear a cartilage while doing something simple, like kneeling on the floor of my closet. See? Confusing.

Anyway, instead of a great big long blog post about that in some form of speech with fancy wording I'll just give you this. When I sat down after the bath, all wet-haired and robed and relaxed and deep-thoughted, I started relaying my deep-thoughts to my husband, "You know, the human body both amazes and confuses me."

And he said, with phone in hand already dialing, "Can I order wings first? This sounds like a long one."

Love it.

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In other news, tomorrow there's a prize announcement in the Quest for Greatness. So come back. Hope you had a great weekend! Gonna watch the Oscars now and try not to fall asleep before the end.

Friday

Fat Ticker Friday: The Obsession Confession Version

Good morning!

I am happily back in that place that we call "square one". I've lost the two pounds that I found last week, so I have broken even.

I am in a weird place right now. I would like to be that always all-inspirational, never have a dull moment, plunge through the plateau type-a weight-loss gal, but somewhere along the way, I won't lie, I've lost the fire. I am 10 pounds shy of my goal weight and have been for oh, quite a while now. I have not broken through that mark except for that quick dip back during Hot for the Holidays.

It's not even that I don't know what to do. I'm not even that unhappy or frustrated. I know exactly what I have to do and I just haven't. My lifestyle overall is healthy-ish. I exercise at least 4 times a week, but up to 6. I eat well except for the occasional indulgences and even there, there is no over-indulgence, really, in comparison to the Christie of the past. Complacent, maybe? The truth is (and we all know it), that all parts of the car must be working simultaneously in order to keep seeing results. Where have I been falling short? For the past few weeks, I haven't touched weights. I've done cardio, but I know myself and my body responds to weights and cardio together. And I've been eating good, but not great. So there.

What has changed? I think part of it is that I finally came to the place of "the final ten", and I've found that I feel pretty ok here. I feel good about myself again, have found the sociable part of me again, and have found the confident part of me again. Sure I'd like a few less dimples in the back of my legs. But honestly? As long as I am not in the place I was before, 35 and 40 pounds heavier on a 5 foot nothing frame, I am actually pretty happy. That place I was where I was obsessed for so long? Yeah, it's faded a little. (You may have noticed...) Because I can focus on other things again instead of just "full steam ahead" in weight loss. And I was pretty obsessed. Ask my friends. Sure I'm disappointed that my drive to keep going is petering out a little, but I haven't lost sight of what a great year it's been. And it's been one great year.

I love (and am so thankful!) that a handful of you stuck around with me to train for something, because I love that there is this camaraderie here. And I still want us to push through to our goals because it's all coming down to the wire now. Are you still in? You still got that run? Still got those pushups???

I still got a half-marathon to do...And I won't lie. Being able to run 9 miles or 10, and soon, 13.1 feels pretty darn cool, even if I haven't lost the last ten pounds to go along with it.

So stay with me folks, we're still Questing for Greatness here (even if it has been quietly..), and next week there's a prize (truly there is). We have a donor (thank you Pubsgal dear!)

Thursday

Why doesn't Curious George have a tail?

These are the things I think about.

Actually, these are the things my husband thinks about then brings them to my attention so that I can obsess over them. And apparently I'm not the first to wonder why Curious George has no tail.

He is a monkey, right? Yellow Man (as my two-year-old calls him) always says, "Be a good little monkey!" But monkeys have tails. And George has no tail.

And now that I think about it, it really does look weird! There's not even a stump...

So then I went to the all-knowing. The big man in the cyber-sky. Google. And what do you know, when I started typing in the question, the auto-complete finished it for me so that I would know that this was an apparently popular topic for Google and I wasn't the first to question his monkey status.

And I scrolled through and read pages upon pages of people asking the same question. And I found lots and lots of theories. (Fascinating.)

And in case you're curious, like me, the closest thing to an answer was that back when George was "born" during World War II, people referred to the term "monkey" for both chimps and monkeys interchangeably (this according to some research done by the Georgia Library Media Association). Nowadays, we make the anatomical distinction between a monkey (which has a tail) and chimpanzee (which has no tail). So it would seem that George is actually a chimp and not a monkey, though the creators of George just called him a monkey. Which, if you read that article, apparently made one set of parents so mad they called for the Curious George books to be sent to the "banned books" list for being inaccurate. (In my opinion, it's one thing to spend way too much time researching why George has no tail, and quite another to spend actual time and money being so angry about George having no tail that you decide you must make it your life's cause to call for its banishment. But that's just me.)

Anyway, another funny little tidbit mentions that George, who was conceived by Hans and Margret Rey, was actually modeled after Margret.

So then when it came time for the Will Ferrell movie, the director didn't know why George didn't have a tail either (according to USA Today) and decided to keep it that way. So there you go. I know you've been wondering too.

Monday

All Aboard the Valentines Express

Now here's a reason for living in Florida that I can get behind. Theme parks.

I forget sometimes how much I love them and how lucky I am to have a million of them in my backyard. Sometimes a girl just needs to go play. We went to Universal Studios Islands of Adventure for our Valentines-post-Anniversary combo platter and had the best.time.ever.

Out of the two parks, Universal Studios and Islands of Adventure, I'd choose the latter every time. The rollercoasters are the best!! And ok, are you ready for this? If you ever go, I have two words for you: Express Pass.

We got a package through the Universal site that included a hotel across the street from City Walk, where all the restaurants and clubs are, and the parks. The package also included free cover to all the clubs, transportation to and from the parks and citywalk, admission to both parks, and this little thing called the Express Pass, where you get to jump the lines at the rides. You get it as a perk for staying at the hotels on Universal property. And it's quite a perk.

How wrong did I feel bypassing the huge snakey 45 minute line and all those faces and voices saying, "Where are they going???" to wait in my own two-minute line for every single ride?

And that 60 minute line? Not for us!! Yes, I felt pretty guilty, but don't worry. It passes.

We were done with the park in about 3 hours and went through and did it again. We saved so much time not waiting in line that we got to go back to the room and nap before dinner and going for round two at the clubs. Which was also really fun (it was Mardi Gras and I got me some beads that light up!) but a very poignant reminder of why I do not do this very much. (And yes, I feel much better today.)

We weren't sure what we were going to do for our anniversary, we were thinking maybe something relaxing, a beach weekend away or something... but this was so much better. We were like kids going on all the rides, and laughing and screaming and going on the water rides and having to walk around with wet droopydrawers, and going out dancing, and meeting all sorts of fun people.

The one unfortunate thing was not having my camera, which was really like removing one of my appendages. But it was too big and bulky to bring along, so we were probably the only people at the park with the dinosaur disposable. Which you have to get developed. And I may or may not have about 20 of these all filled up in a box under my bed because I'm really good at getting disposable cameras developed.

Anyway, what a trip. I feel all refreshed and recharged as a mommy today. This was exactly what we needed.

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Ps. I am pretty sure Pubsgal has a 5k today!!! Go over and wish her luck!!!

Thursday

Fat Ticker Friday: The Friday the 13th/Slacker Blogger Version

Woooooooooo! It's Friday the 13th!

I guess that's supposed to be scary or something. Like having gained two pounds this week. That's scary. I was feeling a little watery/puffy in my fingers this morning when I went to do my normal weigh in, but honestly, I thought there would be a loss. My midsection doesn't feel as rolypoly and I did so many squats and lunges (even in the shower! squats while rinsing my hair, how's that for a mental picture!) And even though there's been Valentine's candy thrust in my face the whole week, I've only partaken here and there, but not enough (or so I thought) to throw it all off. I know, I know, excuses excuses. If only I could hook the scale up to the lie detector. The scale doesn't lie, right? Or does it?

I'm just kind of disappointed coming off of last week. I thought the long distances were just the push I needed. I am still, after months, hovering in the same place. Gaining and losing the same two pounds. And I'm in an ok place mentally, still working on the last 10 but not feeling nearly as hideous as I did 35 pounds ago. Maybe that's where I've gotten complacent. But still, if I have a hope of looking good in a bathing suit, which for most people isn't until June but for us down here, really it's any day now, March, April or May, whenever it warms up,..then I'd better get cracking. That's why I started doing squats and lunges anywhere I can. Because I've got a backside to tighten up.

For exercising: I played softball Monday (I consider this cardio because there is a lot of running and sprinting), I took a spin class Tuesday night, ran 5 miles on Wednesday and took Thursday off. Today I have another 5 miles and then 10 miles over the weekend, the longest run in the half-marathon training. I'm still getting exercise in but I just can't seem to kick these pounds without lifting weights. Guess I just answered my own question..

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Anyhoo, non-fat related, this weekend we're going for a kid-free weekend round two! And I think it will be a little more guiltless than being in an empty silent house like last weekend. The husband and I are going to Orlando to play! Woot! We're going to Universal Studios Island of Adventure, which is by far my absolute favorite theme park in the ENTIRE WORLD. The rides are phenomenal. The roller coasters are so much fun. It is my favorite place to play and I don't actually think I've been there for about 10 years now so I'm am so excited I feel like bursting open. We got a great package, staying at one of the Universal hotels and you get an "express pass" to jump ahead in lines at the park and free covers at the clubs on City Walk. And yes, we will be hitting the clubs. Which means dancing! And singing too! Because there's a karaoke club (I LOVE KARAOKE!) and a jazz bar and a dance club and then there's Margaritaville and a piano bar, not to mention the Mardi Gras stuff going on...

It's an anniversary-part deux/slash/Valentine's extravaganza! I'm so excited! I am just waiting out Friday to get to Saturday and then we'll be driving our little drive to Orlando and off to have some fun! I hope everyone has a wonderful Valentine's weekend! What will you be doing??

Monday

Monday Monday

Well, we did it.

We left the kids with my parents this weekend and they survived. My parents, that is.

Had I just turned on the monitor to hear the gentle "ssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" of the white noise, I might have gotten over the silence. Wish I'd have thought of that before.

But it was really tough having someone watch them and then remaining at home in an empty house. This was a wakeup call for me, a terrible glimpse into my future as an empty-nester. I can just picture it now. Turns out I'm not one of the "Can't wait till they leave" parents.

But besides the awful silence, my husband and I had a nice anniversary weekend and even tried not to call my parents that much to check in. We got all gussied up and had a nice dinner out at a spanish restaurant and I know you're supposed to splurge on your anniversary, but I was a little disappointed paying $18 for a pitcher of sangria that turned out to be half the batch and not even remotely as good as the one I made (for a quarter of the price) that was sitting in the fridge for the husband-wife afterparty when we got home.

I guess that should make me feel good though. (Just call me Sangria Master.)

And isn't it funny that when you have the opportunity to sleep in (for the first time in almost a year...), your eyes keep popping open before 8 o'clock on their own accord and outrightly refuse? I want to know how that works. Is that Murphy's Law? So we were up and at 'em pretty early and decided to get our 9 mile run out of the way Saturday instead of Sunday. Which was actually a really great run until the very very end when I stopped, felt like I was going to pass out for a second (11 on the F* Me scale -- which went down to a 0 about 15 minutes later which is progress.) But we survived and now next week, we're onto double digits. Our 10 mile run.

Why am I doing this again?

I need gentle reminders.

Oh yes, because I want to be strong and fit and agile and happy and I want to know my limits and continue to push them.

I think I'm definitely achieving the latter half of that, and I'm getting there on the first part.

Finally, how is it that I have a whole day to myself in an empty house and decide instead of doing splurge-y things like manicures and spa days (although I did get my hair reblonded), I must clean the house from top to bottom? At least I can say I had a clean house though. Which lasted all of 10 seconds because it's a pigsty again.

Saturday

Vodka and Sangria

I found two of the most wonderful delicious recipes and they've become a part of my repertoire and I must share them.

Once upon a time, I was craving Penne a la Vodka. When I have a race that's a big deal to me, (I call it a race but it's a race to real runners, not me, the backpacker) I do the whole ceremonious pasta dinner thing the night before because I'm a sucker for tradition. (Then I wake up, have a cup of coffee, water and a Body for Life bar and that's my breakfast). Anyway, back to wanting vodka sauce. Oh yum. When I lived in New York, it was a New York italian restaurant specialty and I ordered it takeout all the time (no wonder I've kept a little padding on myself throughout my life). Anyway, as you probably know, vodka sauce is so darned fattening and since I save my cream sauce indulgence for my annual Fettucine Alfredo splurge I didn't wanna blow it on the night before the race. But I wanted vodka sauce!! (me whining). I don't know why, I think I had just been thinking about New York a lot and missing it a little.

So a bunch of google and Cooks.com and Recipezaar later, I found it. Ta-da!!!

Low-fat penne a la vodka. Amen. So here's the recipe and I've made a few changes to it but nothing unusual. I added a ton of garlic because this recipe has no garlic in it. (Are they crazy???) And I minused the mushrooms because I am an anti-mushroomite. (By the way, I'm one of the commenters with a generic nickname on the reviews on the recipe because I couldn't help myself.)

So here's the breakdown of fat and calories:
Fat: 7 1/2 grams
Calories: 466 calories.
That's pretty good to me!! What do you think? Do try it!

Then, on New Years Eve, I was searching for another recipe for Mexican Fiesta night at my parents' house (because we were really exciting and ate a bunch of really good Mexican food, drank Sangria and played scrabble on New Years in our pajamas). The recipe was for sangria and that, too, I have not matched since living in New York where my favorite sangria was at a place called Cafe Wha? in the village (I still have -- and use-- a wooden spoon I stuck in my purse as a souveneir because I was moving. I know, I know. But I very rarely ever steal anything... )

Anyway, back to the recipe. I found this one and it is AMAZING. I also brought it to a party at my cousin's house and it was gone in 60 seconds. I've since made it three times and (I'm not really this big of a wino, really...) it really is delicious and very, very simple.That's not my picture -- but that is what it looks like, even when I make it! I may or may not be sipping this as we speak...

I don't know the calorie count on this one so don't look at me after you finish the pitcher.

Friday

Fat Ticker Friday: The Kids are at Gramma's Version

Woot! Bye bye 1.5 pounds this week!

Yay!!

I don't know, but I actually felt these going away. Things fit a little better, I feel and see some roll minimizing going on...

Maybe it's the long runs, who knows. But finally, a loss! Woohoo! Sunday we're up to 9 miles, we're talkin crazyland, people! Crazyland!

Ahhh, soooo....the kids are at gramma's today and I slept in to the wee hour of 7:45 (45 minutes later than usual!),~~felt compelled to clean up and do dishes~~ now I'm sitting down with my coffee watching the Today show and blogging.

Then, I will run 5 miles, at my leisure, go get my hair done and have happy hour and dinner with my husband for our anniversary which was yesterday but we decided on a Friday night dinner instead. What a nice Friday! It's like a dream!

So why do I feel so guilty?

Leaving the kids last night was literally heart-wrenching. I don't leave them very much for the night with someone other than my husband, (I think I've only left my youngest once) but it was terrible at first! I cried about halfway home and needed to seek phone support from my sister and my best friend! And I don't even know why! They're going to be fine, they're going to spend so much time with their grandparents who miss and love them to death, what is my problem! (Makes me think I just need to do this more...)

And now I'm only just now getting used to the silence, but the guilt, oh the guilt. Why must mommies feel guilt so often, I don't know. My head is in a constant battle with itself (a snippet of inner conversation):

Me 1: (listening to silence feeling guilty)
Me 2: Stop it! Just type! They're having fun!
Me 1: (listening to silence)
Me 2: Get over it! This is supposed to be fun for us and you're ruining it!
Me 1: (silence)
Me 2: You're hopeless. Give yourself until 9:30 to feel guilty if you must and then go get busy doing something and keep your mind off it. The world is your oyster today!
Me 1: Maybe you're right... should I call though? I should call...
Me 2: No! Let it go already. You're being ridiculous.
Me 1: You're right. No call. But are they behaving? Should I be doing this? They're ok, right?
Me 2: Yes. And it's already being done so it's too late anyway. So enjoy it already and stop being a daft cow.
Me 1: But...
Me 2: This conversation is over.

OK I feel better. Don't you?

Anyway, I'm really excited about the restaurant (I've been saving up all week for this day off!) It's a spanish restaurant with tapas and yummy delicious looking food, it's rustic with cafe lights on the outside and I pass it almost every day but have never been. And I don't know what to wear either, do I wear a black dress with no sleeves that I have (it's freezing right now, but is the coat enough?), a nice shirt and black pants? I really have no idea??!! (Hmm. Shopping? I do have the time...)

How are you doing this week? How's the training??? Who's got races coming up soon??????

Thursday

HAPPY MANNIVERSARY!

Today is my fourth wedding anniversary.

I was reading an article on MSN the other day by a columnist who was listing off all the things he loved about being married. His article was about why men love being married, and my first question when I read the title was, "Really? They do?" I was a little surprised. And it was a really sweet article, actually, because it was nice to see a man saying these lovely things about his wife and about being married to her.

So of course it got me to thinking, I wonder if my husband is happy being married. Being a part of the institution of it, really, not even necessarily about being married to me. And then of course my mind wanders to whether or not he's happy being married to me.

Because I tend to obsess over things...

So because I just can't help myself and it was on my mind, we sat down on the couch after putting the kids to bed and I just had to ask.

Me: "Honey, do you like being married?"
Him: "Of course I do. Why?"
Me: "No, really, do you like being married? Not just being married to me, but being married?"
Him: "I love being married."
Me: "To me?"
Him: "I wouldn't be married if it wasn't for you."

Sniff.

Four years later and I am still all giddy like a school girl around my husband and my heart still sometimes leaps out of my chest when I think about him. I love being married. But it's true. I wouldn't be married if it weren't for him.

Happy manniversary honey.

Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday: Ladies Man

(Ride solo? Heck no! Not if there's a little pink cup on the carousel with chicks in it.)

Monday

My Kid Likes Hot Blondes

Apparently.

I have never seen a little boy so smitten. I didn't think two-year-olds could be smitten.

The mall play area is always such a treat. The boy gets to ~~pick up a million zillion different germs~~ run around and play shoeless and unfettered. I've always been quite against them (and should be more so since the flu season has started) but they're a nice break when I have to bribe him into being good while I look for stuff in the mall. Anyway, this particular play area is small, but there's a little turtle that looks like the sea turtle from Nemo that he rides on, two cars that look like Doc and Lightning McQueen, it's pretty much heaven on earth in a 10 by 10 space.

So when a full-grown adult lady, tight tee-shirt, platinum blonde hair, very made-up, very svelte and yes, hot walks in and sits down on the bench in the corner where she continues to watch her niece play, I wouldn't think that with all those other fun things around, my two-year-old would head straight over to her, climb up on the bench like there is some sort of unstoppable magnetic pull involved, and crawl on his hands and knees like a lion toward her, stopping just short of sitting right in her lap.

I mean, really.

Looking up at her with big puppy dog eyes while she's Blackberrying and waiting for some acknowledgement.

So I'm completely mouth agape, Who is this child and what on earth have you done with my sweet son, I walk over to bring him back down onto this planet (while simultaneously being mortified that I'm pretty sure she was just hit on by a two-year-old) and apologize for I'm not sure what is occurring here.

Oh, and I wish that were it. He performed this little number about three more times, and then worse, he'd purposely fall down off the bench, look up at her to find out if he saw him fall down hoping for some sort of gorgeous girl attention, before realizing that there was none and doing it again. Eventually, I decided enough was enough and we moved on to greener pastures, aka Baby Gap.

Sunday

The Scale

I've stopped obsessing over the scale, which is a good thing. However, there is something truly animalistic that comes out in me when I go on these long runs (today it was 8. Yes, 8. 8 miles. 8 miles straight. An hour and a half of running.) And today I got to thinking (I had a lot of time on my hands...)

I always rate how hard I'm working by how badly I want to die at the end and how riddled with expletives my inner monologue becomes. I decided during this morning's run on a name for this scale and the only thing I could think of was the Fujita scale and that's already taken. So I took the only other name that I'm sure the scientists who named the Fujita scale would have taken had it been even remotely appropriate and that is, the "F* Me Scale". Because if you thought about it in a tornado situation, and you were faced with one that was headed straight toward your neighbor's house, you'd be thinking (and don't lie, you totally would), "F* me! That's gonna hit Helga's house!" And your voice would be just a few decibles smaller than if it were going toward, say, your house. In which the exclamation would be at the top-of-your-lungs decibel (10 on the "F* me scale") while you're yelling "F* me! That's coming for US! RUUUUNNNNN!)

So in my own f* me scale, I rate my runs by how badly I want to die at the end as mentioned, and it goes from zero (not at all) to 10 (I want to f*ing die).

While running all these other runs whilst training for the half-marathon, I've been maybe at a 4 at the end mostly. I don't really want to die, I'm not in misery, but things hurt a little but in a good way. 8 miles was different. 8 miles was a strong 8. By the very end, my chest was fine but my legs were like two cement stumps plopping up and down the sidewalk. Thump. Thump. Thump. It took actual effort to pick each leg up and put it back down on the pavement. I was thinking, "F* me, look at this, my legs stopped working. How interesting." Almost as an afterthought. Although earlier in the run, there was a time where I thought I was definitely going to stop breathing, and at that point I was definitely near a 10. When you can't even think the words "F* me," you're at a 10. In case you were wondering.

Don't get me wrong though, this isn't whining. This is science. (My own science.) I'm watching my body do stuff it hasn't before and I'm watching what it does in response. It's running 8 miles. It's almost collapsing at the end, but still, there is 8 miles happening, and next week it'll be 9. And it still scares the crap out of me and actually I'm little faster than a tortoise, really, (my husband confirmed this when he said something to the effect of it not being that much work when he runs with me -- which he insists means just that his stride is longer than mine because of my short legs and his long ones, but let's face it, it just depends on which cup you're looking at. He totally means, "you are a total slowpoke", but he will deny that till he dies I'm sure.)

But running 6 miles or 7 miles or 8 miles is ok if I'm playing games in my head with it all. When we're headed out, we talk and chit-chat and I don't think about the mileage ahead. When the topics start to run out, we make fun of people going by. When the breathing hard starts, I go blank in my head and try just to survive. That's usually about halfway through when I devour my chocolate-flavored Power Bar gel and get a little pick-me-up. Then I think about things like the "F* me scale" or blog post topics or how to redecorate my house. Then by the end, we're saying, "It's only one more mile..." and then we just keep going and it's fine. The best and worst part is probably the drive over to our starting line where I'm having a little inner panic about how far we're about to run and my husband says something brilliant like, "Honey, really. It's no big deal. It's easy. You just put one foot in front of the other. For a while... until you're done." So wise.

Pages

Saturday

Seinfeld

Friday

Fat Ticker Friday!

Thursday

Lentil

Wednesday

I Heart Faces

Wordless Wednesday: After a Long Day

Tuesday

Poopy Face and Eyes

Monday

Quest Giveaway

Sunday

One Week Out

Friday

Fat Ticker Friday: The Obsession Confession Version

Thursday

Why doesn't Curious George have a tail?

Monday

All Aboard the Valentines Express

Thursday

Fat Ticker Friday: The Friday the 13th/Slacker Blogger Version

Monday

Monday Monday

Saturday

Vodka and Sangria

Friday

Fat Ticker Friday: The Kids are at Gramma's Version

Thursday

HAPPY MANNIVERSARY!

Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday: Ladies Man

Monday

My Kid Likes Hot Blondes

Sunday

The Scale

Races in 2010

Blog Archive