Thursday, May 31, 2012
The one big difference is that I had a sweet romantical lunch date with Husband. However, it was slightly marred by the return of my tummy trouble — further complicated by our planned destination of Margarita's. (I adore their guacamole and the Icy Spicy Margarita. Alas, it is no longer on the menu; I had to settle for the hated Diet Coke tarted up with lots of limes, which is the only way it's palatable to me.) My lunch of Lettuce Shrimp Wraps probably isn't on the approved BRAT diet, but what the hey. They were muy deliciosa!
Husband also rubbed Gold Bond Lotion onto my always-itchy back, which I guess he hasn't done in a few weeks, because when I presented my naked back to him, he almost yelped, "Wow, you are smaller! Holy cow!"
(And before I put on my clothes, I pulled out a dress that Mrs. Fog Dog gave me for my birthday a few years ago. I call it my Mad Men dress; it's cocktail length, with a V-neck and a full skirt, and I am very Joan Holloway in it. However, when she gave it to me, I had to put it on with a shoehorn. But today it slid right over my head and zipped up easily, and that was without any restraining undergarments — I tried it on commando. Very thrilling!!!)
Tonight I went to Zumba Class #3 for the week; it's still Sexy Dancey Nancy's class but in a different place — the Senior Center rather than the high school. It's a nice room though very crowded, which made it warmer and more humid than it needed to be; we all were soaked with sweat by the end. Attractive!
Half of us had been told the class started at 6, and half were told 6:30, which is accurate, so me and the other early girls sat around for 30 minutes twiddling our thumbs. I am not much of a twiddler, so I began to explore the nooks and crannies of our room and found a piano, under a cover. The available music was not promising, but I plunked out a respectable version of "Country Roads" and "Jet Plane" — and then (jackpot!) I found the sheet music for the "Eight Is Enough" and "Three's Company" theme songs! I was thoroughly delighted, also well-occupied till Nancy got there.
My mother always dreamed that I would play the piano for a crowd of my chums, while we all sang along. I will have to tell her that we're one step closer to her dream.
(No one sang along. I guess it's a pretty small step. I'm not exactly Neil Armstrong in this story.)
Weight loss is going very well, I must say, and three zumba classes in a row sure doesn't hurt. I should take a long walk tomorrow to keep up my good work.
Bath time! I am gross.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
I hasten to add that this was not my idea. She plopped herself down and grabbed my hands, while I whimpered. Then she pulled me, hard, and I wept audibly. Then I pulled her, so encouragingly, and called, "Come to my side, Spitfire! There's snacks and margaritas over here!"
The class laughed, but Spitfire just pulled me harder. Ow, ow, OW!
But it's good for me.
This was my day: work, shop for dinner, work some more, cook dinner, listen to Mimosa's science presentation, zumba, read to Martini, blog. And now a bath.
Today is the actual birthday of my dearest darling friend Mrs. Cynicletary. That's us in 2008, with our former friend (long sad story) Lady V; Mrs. C is in the middle. I do not love this picture because I think I look enormous, but there are few pictures of the two of us in which we each look pretty. I don't know why that is. And since it's her birthday, I made the sacrifice and used an un-pretty picture of me, since I think she's pretty cute in this one.
Happy birthday, beloved friend! I hope it was full of spa treatments and family time and delicious food and pretty cocktails and some hot hot lovin' — all those things you like best.
Time for the tubby! I still haven't cracked one of my enticing library books — I'm not sure what I'm waiting for. But the boyfriend problems of Marcy Rhodes are just so enticing. Love those comfort reads! (Maybe my brain is still recovering from stomach flu and can't handle anything more complicated than '50's YA.)
—Lady C, brain-impaired
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Once again, I was anxious about resuming intense exercise after a week of intense torpor and sloth, but it all went well, though the Italian Spitfire worked us like tri-athletes, and I am one giant dripping ball of sweat. But me and Enrique Iglesias, we like how it feels. All good.
Not much else to report: I ate light meals today and edited a UU lesson on white privilege and ethnic identity. It was pretty cool, actually. I also arranged for Li'l Martini's first cell phone (the traditional elementary school graduation present for Dallin kids — and I am so ready for him to have one, I can't tell you how many times I wanted to call him right after school this year! Funny) and set up dental appointments for both kids (kind of a big deal; it's their first ones with my dentist, rather than the children's dentist they've seen since they were born) and looked into a summer math tutor for Martini (Mimosa had a disastrous first year of middle school because  her math confidence was shaky and  her teacher was a tyrant and a cow and a bully [forgive? moi?], and while I can't necessarily do anything about the latter, I can get a jump on the former) and bought the photo album we're using for Mimosa's Coming of Age gift (more on this later). Busy day!
I did eat light meals, but I was ravenous when I got home from zumba, so I just polished off two cheese quesadillas. And they were goooood. And I logged my food on Fat Secret and did just fine (though protein remains a challenge. I even had chicken salad for lunch! What do they want — meat with every meal???).
Tomorrow: more of the same. UU lesson editing, zumba. And tomorrow I will lift weights and work my core.
Off to start reading Mockingjay to Martini. I tried to hold him off, it is just so dark, but he is wild to finish the series and I can't blame him. Finnick . . .
—Lady C, in love with many fictional characters
Monday, May 28, 2012
My system is easing its way back to normal, and Martini and I just walked to Walgreen's — I'm a little fatigued but otherwise fine.
And, I am thrilled to note, I have the perfect amount of work for the next few weeks! Plenty to pay the bills but not enough to feel overwhelmed. I can turn down any new job that comes in without panicking (though, unless they're huge, I'll probably say yes — me being me after all). But it's a good feeling. I'm still in one-day-at-a-time mode, but each day is a little easier as I cross yet another giant TO DO off my never-ending list. May and June are always a gas-gas-gas.
I'm going to make eggs and sausage and croissants and hash browns and fresh fruit for dinner, but I'm not super-hungry, I plan to just nibble. I'm also taking this opportunity to ease off on my coffee addiction; I'll still drink it in the morning and maybe one cup in the afternoon, but I'm going to try very hard not to have it in the evening. I've had so many caffeine withdrawal-related headaches in the past few weeks; I really don't need this in my life.
So I guess I'm starting my modified boot camp this week: exercise daily, lift weights, work my core, and log my food. That's it. I can do it!
—Lady C, feeling optimistic ☺
In other news:
- Today's scale reading: 250.5 !
This week, I'm hoping to resume my life of healthy living (and it looks like I can make all three zumba classes) — we'll see. I still have no real stamina; I was weak as a kitten after a morning of doing chores. The house looks lovely, though.
And it is wonderful to have Husband back!
Tomorrow I have to do some work (yes, I know it's a holiday, but I am way behind) but I also plan to just sit and read and relax and smell the roses. And maybe take a short walk and start rebuilding my fitness level, yet again. It's time to stay well and healthy for a while.
Oh, and my zit has almost disappeared. I was able to camouflage it fairly well for the party, though it took some cosmetic maintenance throughout the evening. And I tried to draw people's attention downward, with my sleek fake-tanned legs, my red-and-white polka-dotted toenails, and my silver evening sandals with light-up plexiglass kitten heels — oh, I was a vision.
Sleepy now! Time for bed.
—Lady C, back on solids
Saturday, May 26, 2012
OK, actually, I began campaigning to make her my best friend, so relieved was I to have a female co-worker who wasn't [a] kind but elderly, [b] insecure and threatened by me, or [c] cranky, weird, and really annoying, which were my only other female friend options. Fortunately, she succumbed to my wiles, and we quickly became super-glue bonded for life, even though we lived in the same town just that one year. She's now in the Pacific Northwest, surrounded by dogs and gardens and immediate family and wide open space, and she sends gorgeous photos of her life on Fog Dog Acres. I miss her so much. Many happy wishes to you, my friend.
Happy first-date anniversary to me and my sweetie husband! Our first date was May 26, 1991, which means that our relationship is now 21 and can legally drink. On that date, we went to Skipjack's for a yummy fish dinner . . . and then we fell in love. True story! Our usual routine is to celebrate this event by going to a bookstore and buying each other $20 worth of books. But we didn't do that tonight because . . .
Happy birthday celebration to my dearest darling friend Mrs. Cynicletary! (Her actual birthday is next Wednesday.) We just got home from her party (which is still raging, but we pooped out early — ew, no pun intended). It was a lovely evening; her husband and children outdid themselves in making beautiful memories for my girl. I'm sad, though, because I felt like I was only half present. While I'm much better, I'm still not fully myself. But I spoke to almost everyone there, and the cake I made was lovely and delicious, and everyone enjoyed the game — so. All good.
May 26 rocks!
Weigh-in should be interesting tomorrow. My generic Immodium is working very well . . . to the point where nothing is actually moving and I'm feeling heavy and a little bloated. Of course, that could be because I ate real food tonight, but nothing too scary — mostly a lot of little finger sandwiches on squishy bread. And they were yummy!
We'll just see.
Friday, May 25, 2012
(This picture came up when I was searching Google Images for "really slow progress," and I found it hilarious. What it technically represents is how few of these little critters the person has made for an upcoming craft fair or something . . . but I interpreted it as the really slow progress of li'l red guy in his efforts to distance himself from the others, so slow that no one even noticed, until — look! He's all the way over here! Go, li'l red guy!)
(Also, I kinda stole this picture, 'cause the chick who took it doesn't want people downloading her stuff. I had to pull all sorts of shenanigans just to get this, which is why it's blurry — I'm magnifying a little thumbnail, the only image I could successfully grab. But I had to have it, c'mon! Li'l red guy — mon semblable, mon frère. )
I got through yesterday subsisting on the world's blandest meal: chicken broth, applesauce, plain toast, banana, peppermint tea. The box says I'm allotted four generic Immodium in a 24-hour period, and within three hours I'd taken three. Things were not looking good.
At 9 p.m. last evening, two things were very present in my mind:
- Immodium was my last hope, and it doesn't seem to be working for me.
- Thank GOD Starbuck's has a private restroom.
But I made it through the night, and this morning I had a relatively LARGE breakfast (oh I was so hungry) of TWO pieces of plain toast (are you salivating?) and a banana and two cups of tea . . . and by noon it was all still sitting pretty well, and I began to have hope of recovery.
Except: I am EXHAUSTED. A week of poo-ing, retaining little food, and ingesting almost no protein (plus getting up all night to visit potty) is not the path to vim and vigor, my friends! I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed. But I had a million errands to run, plus work, so I dragged myself to the car, dragged myself through my errands, and then dully contemplated the dull lunch I would fix myself.
But then I thought: Hey! Chicken broth and rice and tea . . . I know a place that makes that! And I sailed in to Jade Garden with a smile on my face. The server seemed a tad perplexed that I only wanted soup** and plain rice, but she served it graciously, and I dined like a queen. A queen who can digest her food properly, no less! I was so smug!!
And because I was there, I decided to make a big play for Mother of the Year and bring home some crab rangoons and Peking ravioli for my children's after-school snack, because I am all about buying their love with greasy salty food from other cultures!
And then . . . I got cocky. And the crab rangoons smelled so good. And despite my "filling" and "satisfying" lunch of broth and tea and plain rice, I was still somehow "unsatisfied." So I ate a crab rangoon.
* * * * *
(Details of the horror show that followed have been omitted, because, ew.)
So, I've paid the piper. Oh, well. I took Immodium #4, and the 24-hour clock just reset anyway, so — onward!
In the better news department, I now have an array of lovely gifts for my friend, plus I found something for my mom (whose birthday is in two weeks, but one thing at a time), and I'm just about done with her game.
My heinous zit is also progressing, though it's still hideous. It's got an awful scabby texture now like lava rock. I am keeping my fingers away from it and will simply continue to cleanse, treat, and pray.
I need to pick up Martini and friends at 5:30 and I will grab an easy dinner for the kids while I'm out — and then it's bath and bed for this girl. I plan to sleep for 20 hours. I will be well for the party!!!
** Honesty compels me to mention that it wasn't chicken soup, it was . . . pork and pickle soup. And I didn't tell you at first because I knew you'd get that look, now, stop it. It's a very simple soup with a clear broth and a lovely flavor — and pork is the other white meat! And I was fine until the rangoon! So, hush.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Remember when I wrote this?
Gee — guess what I woke up with this morning?
It is huge— the size of a pencil eraser. It is bright red. It is heinous. I am literally clutching an icepack to it as we speak. Well, OK, I put it down temporarily to type. But I re-apply between thoughts.
I never get zits any more! I can't even remember the last time! What is it doing here? What does it want????
And I've been in one-day-at-a-time mode this whole week, I'm only concentrating on what's directly in front of me . . . but here's the thing.
On Saturday night, one of my dearest darlingest friends in the entire world is celebrating her milestone 50th birthday. And as her besty, I'm supposed to be right by her side:
- Helping with party setup
- Concocting and bringing an appetizer
- Baking and bringing a red velvet cake
- Planning and delivering a party game
(And somewhere in there I also need to purchase her milestone 50th birthday gift. Oh, that little thing . . . )
Right now, I can't even retain coffee. Last night I had a tiny toasted mini bagel and a cup of coffee, then took a hot bath . . . and was okay for just long enough that I thought, Eureka! I'm cured! And then I ran to the bathroom at 2 a.m., and again at 3 a.m., and again at 4 a.m. . . .
Today I'm going to break down and purchase something more powerful than Maalox — Immodium, maybe? That's the name I have in my head.
But the count is on. I have 57 hours to cure my intestinal tract and make my zit disappear. I need some serious Gryffindor magic about now!
In other news, that 10 pounds I wanted to lose before Mom got here? All set.
Onward! The countdown starts now.
—Lady C, Intestine/Complexion Warrior
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
It is just so gross. I cannot comprehend how people do the laxative-abuse thing. I would SO much rather throw up.
I just made the kids an easy supper — grilled cheese, tomato soup, and Caesar salad — and suddenly the salad sounded delicious to me, so that's what I'm eating now: romaine, Parmesan cheese, fresh-squeezed lemon juice, and Paul Newman dressing. I can't imagine this will go well, but it is heavenly to be eating something that I actually want to eat.
Well, we'll see.
I've lost a great deal of weight, but I can't tell you how much I don't care right now. I am sick of being sick!!!
And I'm so behind in real life . . . I can't think about that either.
Man, I am gobbling this salad. I hope this is a good sign.
Tomorrow will be better. Or else.
Want to guess how well the salad worked out?
Yeah, I thought not.
OK. Lesson learned.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
I finished last night's blog post and then visited the toilet before bed — and barely left it again for the next 12 hours.
I don't like to throw around phrases like "Ebola virus" unless I'm sure, but . . . WebMD seemed confident. Or I could have some kind of gastro-intestinal-whole-body infection.
I tried to work this morning but finally cried uncle. (One minute of editing, five on the toilet. You don't need to be a math genius to see that this is a no-go.) I went back to bed and have been asleep since noon.
Thank God for my kids, especially my good daughter. Daddy is away, they understand that they are little orphan children now. Somehow, they will forage for food.
Back to bed.
So awful. So so awful. There isn't a part of me that doesn't hurt. Even my hair hurts.
—sick sad Lady C
Monday, May 21, 2012
It was a hilarious meeting (I generally run a hilarious meeting); at one point, Ben, our teacher rep, made a reference to "old-school text entering," and I said, ". . . wait. Did you seriously just say old-school text entering??? DUDE. In my day, we used CHALK." We were howling.
Our auction netted more than $35K, breaking all kinds of records, and tonight we voted to spend a ton of it on some really cool stuff. (Which also means more work for me, as we now have to write letters to every teacher telling them how much we're granting them. But that is next week's problem, I have enough on my plate for this week.)
I'm on one-day-at-a-time mode. On tomorrow's docket:
- Finish editing the UU job. (Fun, easy.)
- Edit a dry STEM job. (Easy, less fun, good money.)
- Possibly edit a very short job for a wacky overseas client. (?? An unknown.)
- Get started on the game for Mrs. Cynicletary's birthday party on Saturday. (Nothin' but fun!)
- Get started on my daughter's "tangible gift" for her Coming of Age ceremony. (Ditto!)
And zumba at 7! Full, fun day.
But I'm exhausted and must get to bed pretty soon. I've been headachy all day and need a good night's sleep.
Weight loss, shmeight loss. I'm busy.
My New Power Position
My PTO term ends with the last day of school on June 20, both kids will have graduated and my work on those ceremonies will be done, and my Religious Ed. Committee membership expires on June 17. The Betsy-Tacy Convention is mid-July and I'll be Brunie's beast of burden through that week — but then, that's it! No more volunteer commitments!
So I promptly took on another one, but just one: I will be an elected officer of the Parish Committee, the governing body of our church. In fact, I will be Clerk, which involves taking minutes, which I love doing. (It involves other stuff too, though I'm kinda hazy on the details. But I think it will be fun and way easier than running the RE Committee or the PTO, which were both labors of love but also hella work.)
In my campaign speech, I recalled that I will be teaching OWL, the UU teen sex class, in spring 2013—"So," I said, "next year will be my Year of Sex and Power." I won in a landslide.
OK, since it's for church and all, honesty compels me to add that I ran unopposed. But still.
Here's something funny: All of us running for an office ran unopposed, and the Moderator said, "Usually we have candidates give a statement, but since there's kinda no point . . . you can waive that . . . if you want to." The afternoon was warm, and after and hour and a half of parliamentary procedure, we were all a tad restive. But when it came to my turn and the Moderator said, "Lady C, did you want to give a statement?" before I even said anything, the people sitting around me began to murmur, "Yes! Yes!", which I found hilarious. My cred as a public speaker, it is legend. (And I did give my statement, and they clapped and howled. And everyone else declined to speak after that, which was also funny.)
So, Roller Derby, Huh?
One of the items up for bid at our recent school auction was an afternoon of ladies roller derby with my son's fifth-grade teacher (whom I adore) and the teaching aide in that classroom (whom I've known forever and likewise adore), and this sounded hilarious to me, but I couldn't convince either of my kids to go. But then I ran into Teaching Aide at the auction, and she urged me to bid on it — so I did! And won!
And I like the two fifth-grade girls who also won, so I offered to spare their mothers and drive them myself. We played Taylor Swift and Glee CDs and sang gustily the whole way there; within five minutes of our arrival at the Shriners Auditorium I had them (1) in a bar and (2) tattooed; we ate two Kick*ss Cupcakes apiece (so! good!); we stayed for an hour of the after-party and shook-shook-shook our bootys with roller derby girls; and it was a thoroughly rockin' good time.
I don't know that I ever need to go again, but I'm really glad I did it once.
Wasn't It Weigh-In Day?
It's my womanly time, I am bloated and headachy and a big bloody mess, and I refuse to even look at the scale. Check with me next week.
On the Docket for Today
SO. MUCH. I'm already exhausted!!
- Go over the teachers' wish lists with my PTO co-president and figure out the simplest way to ask the PTO to allocate money for this, since their requests are all over the board
- Edit two lessons for the UUs
- Wrap and mail two birthday presents (for Mrs. Fog Dog and my baby brother — May is Big Holiday Month for me)
- Co-lead my last PTO meeting evah!
Husband just left me for a week in Hyde Park studying Roosevelt. I will miss him.
Time to get cracking on that list!
—Lady C, wishing you all a productive day
Saturday, May 19, 2012
I just got home, after spending the last seven hours with two fifth-grade girls, two teachers, and a Shriners Auditorium full of screaming fans. I am hoarse and exhausted but also exhilarated. It was so much fun!!!!
But I've got to take a bath and get to bed. Church tomorrow, I'm being elected to High Office (I'll explain tomorrow) and I think they expect me to say something. I can't wait to hear what it is.
(my Roller Derby Blogger name)
Friday, May 18, 2012
(I love this craptacular little flick! It's also a good answer to "What is the worst movie to ever win an Oscar?" Another good nominee is The Poseidon Adventure. But seeing that one just once was enough, thank you, whereas I could watch this one over and over. And have, many times.)
I'm really really tired — big day of running around, and then five solid hours of work, which just ended a minute ago, and I've got to get to bed. Tomorrow: chores, more work, and then . . . I'm going to ladies' roller derby! I kid you not.
More will be revealed.
But now, to bed.
—a very very sleepy Lady C
Thursday, May 17, 2012
252" again. It still feels like a Xanadu weight, not a real one, but nonetheless — it's a nice start to the day.
Then I had an uplifting e-mail exchange with Good Neighbor Anne:
Then I had an uplifting e-mail exchange with Good Neighbor Anne:
GNA: I am finally rewarding myself with a hooky day. Would you like to take a walk? I need to run, run, run!! Me: Can't, baby -- gotta work work work. I will sneak in a walk to the post office later, but that's all I can do. Sorry! But: I FINALLY understand what "I need to run, run, run!!" feels like! Except in my case it's "I need to dance, dance, dance!" But I get it. GNA: I am SO happy that you understand!! That is really huge! That is the difference, I think, between temporary weight loss and long-term lifestyle change. Wow. Congratulations!!
This made me all happy and glowy. Then I reflected on an e-mail I got a couple of weeks ago from Bride Boy*, which also made me so happy:
Your weight loss is such an inspiration! But I am even more impressed by how you’re going about it – steady, sustainable progress, without deprivation, and with plenty of Zumba! I’m really proud of you.
I am blessed with friends. And I headed out for the post office feeling light and spry and successful.
And I had a smallish healthy lunch at the Thai place, no wine, and read an Agatha Christie (Remembered Death) and had a perfectly lovely mid-day treat.
And then I caught sight of myself in the mirror on the wall at Tom Young Koong, and my happy bubble of sunny optimism deflated like last week's party balloon. I am still a big fat girl who weighs more than 250 pounds. It's not about the glass being half full or half empty — the glass is simply too big, that's all.
So I trudged back home on a bit of a down note.
But then tonight at Mimosa's concert, I saw my pal, one of the Sleek Suburban Moms, and she pinched my butt (we're close like that) and said, "It's the disappearing woman! My God! Where are you going?" — and as far as I know I haven't told her anything about my weight-loss efforts (she is hard-bodied and weighs 90 pounds, this is not one of our topics), and that was cool. It's always thrilling to have someone notice my changing form without any prompting from me.
I guess the score for today is Good Things: 3, Bad Things: 1. And I can live with that.
Mimosa's concert was lovely, by the way. She is so tall and beautiful and she sings out proudly, head high, like Ronnie Gilbert. This is the last time I'll hear her sing in middle school, and I got a little teary during the last song. Which was "Ob La Di, Ob La Da." Come on, don't we all tear up during that one?
OK, maybe just this once.
I'm going to bed early tonight, big busy day tomorrow! And then more sitting and editing, sigh. But next week's paycheck will be HUGE.
Ob la di, ob la da.
* Which I still haven't answered!! I am a wretched friend. In fact, I have a small pile of hoarded Bride Boy e-mail to respond to.
Ironically, the more you write to me, the slower I am to get back to you . . . because the pile keeps mounting and I get overwhelmed. Lady Darcy, Inspirational Kathy, my darling friend the Smart Republican in S.C. — I owe all of you, like, 30 e-mails. My intentions are the best, truly. Someday . . . !
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
But today was more of the same: all chair, all day. Except I did have breakfast with Kind Tina, always a joy, and I was e-mailing fast and furious with Good Neighbor Anne, as well as another pal, Brandy-Brite, and that was very entertaining.
Even though I've got zumba later tonight, I nonetheless took a walk down my hill to get a bag of cat food because I just needed to stretch my legs.* And that is something you would not have heard me say (or seen me do) a year ago, believe me!
Not much else to say. Tomorrow: all chair, all day again. And my end-of-day reward is a children's music concert. Which will be lovely, and I adore hearing my daughter sing, but at the moment it just sounds hot and crowded and annoying.
Oh, and my surprise super-low weight on Sunday was in fact an anomaly, as I suspected, though I'm still doing just fine. I'm very hopeful about meeting my June 15 goal of 10 pounds.
I've got a stack of enticing library books, as always, but I've been on an Agatha Christie kick and am plowing through those at an amazing rate. My ability to never guess the murderer is truly uncanny!
* Well, also: We need cat food.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
But I'm not the kind of afraid that has me wanting to skip class. I'm the kind of afraid that's determined to go and face my dread and get it over with.
Because even if all the things I'm most afraid of happen, the only solution is to keep going to zumba class.
Quod errat demonstratum.
And yes, you may quote me.
—Lady C, off to conquer the beast
Monday, May 14, 2012
And it feels like deadline-driven things are beginning to stack up. On my list:
- Pull together thank-you notes and small gifts for our Auction co-chairs (the final numbers aren't in yet, but initial reports indicate that we broke some fund-raising records!!)
- Start thinking about the "tangible and intangible" gifts Husband and I are supposed to give Mimosa at the upcoming church Coming of Age ceremony
- Create a game for Mrs. Cynicletary's birthday party on May 26 (an auspicious day for so many reasons, as Mrs. Fog Dog well knows)
- Leave reviews on Amazon for Ruth Doan MacDougall's latest books (something she asked me to do ages ago and I totally spaced)
- Arrange a date to go dress-shopping with Mimosa's church buddies (the girls are giddy at the idea of new dresses for the CoA ceremony, and Mimosa never asks for something new to wear, let alone a dress, so I'm happy to indulge her)
- Compile the teachers' various wish lists into one master list (my co-president is looking up the prices for everything they want; I think I got off easy)
- Read and comment on the two submissions for this week's writers group
- Prepare for my final PTO meeting this Monday (woo!)
(One task I delegated: Husband is now calling our accountant and being a squeaky wheel; our taxes for 2011 still aren't filed. This makes me WILD. Best to let calm Husband handle it.)
I still sound congested and am not back to 100 percent, but I'm determined to "act as if" and will go to zumba tomorrow night. And then come home and probably die. This is supposes to be Mild Boot Camp Week 1 of 5, but, whatever. My weight's already lower than I thought it was; can I take the first week off? ☺
Calling it a night. Bye!
Sunday, May 13, 2012
I could've had a mimosa because Mimosa, my darling daughter, gave me two presents she knew I'd love: a bottle of Korbel Brut sparkling wine and a bottle of Chardonnay!! She is a dear sweet angel girl. And my darling boy gave me a coupon series (he makes them for me each year, and believe me, I use them!), for things like 1 Hug, 1 Kiss, 1 Cuddle, I Will Bring You Coffee (seven checkboxes) — and this year he added 1 Fenton, 1 Duke, and 1 Annabelle. I looked confused and he said, "When you need a cat, I will bring you one." !!!!!! I thought that was so original! What a sweetie-peach.
And Husband is giving me the Ultimate Gift: After promising to mow the lawn all weekend and forgetting/putting it off/otherwise not doing it for whatever reason, he is currently mowing in the dimness of dusk, at 7:22 p.m. It's a little warm and muggy right now, not the most pleasant mowing weather (certainly not as nice as the crisp breeze circulating through the yard around noon, when he instead elected to take a nap) — but guess what? Not my problem. All I care about is that it's mowed, finally, before the weekend is officially over. All good.
So, in weight-loss news, I've been at 257 or 258 all week without losing an ounce, which puzzled me since my meals mostly comprised soup — but I was too sick and too busy to worry or care about it overmuch. Then yesterday I forgot to weigh myself (a sign of how snot has clouded my brain, I think). When I declared that I wanted to lose 10 more pounds in five weeks, I was thinking that I weighed 257 and I wanted to get to 247. That's a little fast for weight loss but do-able for just five weeks; I can slow down afterward.
Except, good news!
- Today's scale reading: 252 !!!!!!
I then moved the scale to every part of the bathroom and re-weighed myself: 252, no matter where I put it.
This is mind-boggling to me. Apparently I really was carrying around gallons of snot!! (I continue snotty, but definitely less so.)
Because I still can't really believe that this is my actual weight, I put "253" as my Weigh-In weight on FatSecret (because that extra pound makes it seem more real? I'm a ninny). But in any event — assuming this weight really is correct, yay! I'm already halfway to my next goal!!!
And after that, my goal is 10 more pounds by August 10, my birthday, which means that I will have lost 50 pounds by the time I turn 50. Whee!
Li'l Martini and I are now going to watch the Survivor finale. If Kim doesn't win, I'm pitching a fit.
Happy Mother's Day to all who celebrate!
Lots of love,
Saturday, May 12, 2012
. . . except that I've been so sick and sluggish this week, it didn't seem realistic to go from totally inert to pulse-pumping active starting Monday; rather, it was pretty clear that I should slowly ease back into my exercisey ways. Today, I declared, was the day! even though I'm still a snothead.
My original plan was to head to the bike path right after I got up, when the air was still cool and crisp, and take a nice, easy, flat, straight walk, as far as I felt like I could.
Well, I didn't wake up all that early, and when I did get up, a walk didn't fit my mood. Instead I did my chores and the other 90,000 things that pile up during the week (paying bills, planting the tree that Li'l Martini brought home two weeks ago [thanks, Teacher!], starting the program for Mimosa's graduation, talking down the hysterical slide-show coordinator for Martini's graduation [I'm not the chair of that committee, but the chair is not doing a good job, so I seem to be the default co-chair — but I truly don't mind, I've done it before, and the baddish chair is still doing all the heavy lifting), yada yada.
But at 3:30 I said, "It's now or never" (actually, I sang it — of course). Though I was already tired, frankly, and switched to Plan B: a simple walk down my hill to Starbuck's, Walgreen's, and Trader Joe's, where we did need a few things and I need to use the two new credit cards associated with my line of credit six times each month, and I still had four to go for May, so! Win-win! Not much of a walk, though, I'll admit, despite the steep uphill-ness.
Sitting outside Starbuck's drinking a large coffee and reading a magazine felt so incredibly luxurious. I never do this. Amazing. My new goal is to do it at least once a week when the weather's nice. What a glorious treat!
And then I walked back up my hill with a small bag o' stuff, not heavy. But I was sweating a lot and quite tired.
Here's a quiz. Was I sweating and tired because:
- It's a warm day; I've already cleaned my whole house, carried a heavy vacuum down the stairs, and done three loads of laundry; and "sweaty and tired" would be anyone's natural response
- I am still too sick to really exert myself in any manner — my body would prefer that I rest and recuperate
- One week of illness has set me back so dramatically that my fitness is in serious decline
Tonight we're having a simple supper of shrimp cocktail, cheese quesadillas, fresh pineapple, and a huge green salad with tons of "stuff" in it. Which I will now go cook.
And tomorrow I will be Queen for a Day. Well, that's really every day — but tomorrow it's official.
I hope you all have a rockin' Saturday night!
Friday, May 11, 2012
Not another word.
Also I am still producing gallons of snot, I feel better but sound wretched, and my head is twice as heavy as usual.
I could not be less glamorous. Well, maybe if I had a zit.
Also, I have not lost an iota of weight this week, which is all kinds of wrong. But I'm not going to dwell.
Happily, I billed 20.5 hours on this week's timesheet, more or less what I'm aiming for, and I got the nicest compliment on my writing from my pal Book Club Girl, who's providing one of the letters of recommendation for my writing packet. She wrote, "I love what you gave me to read! Can you send more?"
Life is sweet.
Except for the snot.
And the random peeing.
OK, really not another word about that.
Gotta go feed the fam. TGIF!
xx Lady C, snothead
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Our conversation was jolly. Both kids had to take MCAS Math today (our state-mandated horror) and entertained us with math questions we're too old and stupid to answer. I was a math whiz in the day, but I remember nothing about scientific notation. Then I reminded Martini of the three things he had to do right after dinner, and he groaned and sighed and slumped his shoulders very dramatically, then said, "Fine . . . I'll clear the table and practice my glock as soon as I'm done eating."
If this is any indication of his math skills, I'm having some trepidation. You don't need to be a math whiz to count to three, right?
"What is Martini forgetting, family?" I said to the air, and began to hum the Jeopardy theme.
Mimosa's brow furrowed. She really wanted to win. Unfortunately, she rarely listens when I talk. Ha! Thwarted by her own adolescence.
Husband guessed, looking so hopeful: "He forgot that he has to play Jeopardy?"
No. That was not the answer.
Martini sighed, with such force that I think he lost a little weight. "I have to take out the upstairs trash."
With no hesitation whatsoever, the rest of us promptly burst into song:
"Take out the papers and the trash!
Or you don't get no spending cash
And when you've finished doing that
Bring in the dog and put out the cat!
Yakkety-yak! Don't talk back."
We are SO the Von Trapps.
Yeah, I'm feeling better. And I danced a little in the kitchen while I was cooking, but I still decided to skip zumba tonight. One more day of "rest," and then I'll be an exercise fiend again next week—I can go to two of my three classes (Mimosa has a concert during Sexy Dancey Nancy's class, and I've learned my lesson about skipping my kids' concerts for zumba).
On my plate for tomorrow:
- Make and deliver spinach squares for the Teacher Appreciation luncheon
- Mail seven packages of books that I've sold to various people
- Submit my timesheet
- Edit a couple of documents on mentoring
- Have lunch with Mrs. Cynicletary
- Buy fish at the good fish place
- Make dinner (can you guess what we're having? Mmm, fresh fish, mmm . . .)
—Lady C, healing
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Remember that scary Lebanon project I mentioned a few weeks ago? ("Highly sensitive" and "highly political," whee!) The deadline has slipped, and now I might not be able to do it, since it will coincide with my mom's visit, and I will not be crazybusy with editing while she's here. I'll do a small fun job, sure; she can read a book or take a nap. But nothing about the Lebanon job sounds "small" or "fun." As much as I'm relieved to maybe dodge that bullet, I'm kinda bummed too, since it's a huge job and the money would have been great.
Well, almost nothing is for sure in this life, so I'll just wait and see.
Oh, and I'm still sick, but I guess I'm on the road to wellville. My head is still heavy, my nose is on continuous drip, I cough, I sneeze, I pee a little . . . but I'm less stupid* than I was yesterday, and that is something.
I do have this amazing husky voice right now. I could totally be a phone sex operator.
Let's call that Plan B.
OK! I'm going to read to Li'l Martini in my fabby Tallulah Bankhead** voice, and then we'll watch Survivor and Modern Family. I made enormous headway in my enormous reading pile over the last two days (not books; things that I want to read but am in no real rush to read, like the G section of our paper, the AARP newsletter, the local paper, the AAA newsletter . . . that kinda stuff), so maybe I'll finish it off before bed — the rush of accomplishment and satisfaction may help me sleep eeeeasy, n'est-ce pas?
(In my dream last night, Husband was being very bossy and controlling, and I woke up cross and over-warm. But I didn't blame him, because I am Friday's child who is loving and giving, or full of forgiving, or — actually, wait, I was born on a Friday; which child am I?)
Off to read and read and watch and read. And sneeze and blow and clench and pee. Oh the life of an aging sick working mom. Glamour R Us.
Rasp, wheeze, snort,
* Though no less inclined to overshare.
** Does anyone know who this is any more?
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Reach for Kleenex; blow
Cough, sneeze, wheeze
Ouch! Blot your nose
Ache, ache ache
Sick sad me.
And my weight wasn't even down this morning*, despite my liquid diet. I think it's because I'm carting around 90 pounds of snot.
Keepin' it real, folks.
But now I'm going back to bed. Though I may take a PEOPLE break and read all about Khloe and Lamar. I don't even know what a Kardashian is, but it just fits my mood.
I also have to smear Vaseline on my poor beleaguered nose.
—Lady C, going out with a whimper
* Is it completely pathetic that amid my stupor of nose-blowing and trying to breathe, I still remembered to weigh myself?
Monday, May 7, 2012
All that indiscriminate kissing I do, I guess. It was bound to catch up with me one of these days.
Today I am clogged with phlegm and dull and stupit. Everything aches, including my eyelids. Plus I had to work, editing a clumsy, dry document about supportive school discipline policies, which needed a lot of help and guidance from my nimble editing fingers. Except every one of them feels bruised.
Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. And ow.
That's it for today. Tomorrow I have another job (yay! money!), and I have to mail the 9 dozen books I just sold (yay! money!), plus my mom's lovely Mother's Day present, so — must rest up. Time for a hot steamy shower, extra-strength Mucinex, and a gallon of Earl Grey.
—Lady C, clogged
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Bad Decision: I can never seem to make myself eat breakfast before church — it's too early? I'm too busy? not sure — so I'm always ravenous by the time we get out of there, and I inhaled an enormous late lunch at Ixtapa, our neighborhood Mexican joint, all but scraping my plate. Plus chile con queso.
Good Book: I attended a Book Swap Party and picked up, for free, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. Everyone raves about it; I'm psyched to read it.
Bad Decision: I kept thinking I would take a walk or something, but the day wore on, I had another two-hour conversation with Mom, etc. etc., and I never did exercise. I didn't even do an isometric. I considered doing one right now, as I blog, but I can't be bothered. Not even a Kegel.
Good Book: At the Book Swap Party, I also picked up The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and a biography of Katharine Graham.
Bad Decision: I'd planned to skip a real dinner, instead continuing to digest the enormous mid-day meal. I had an apple at 8 p.m., still thinking I'd walk on my treadmill . . . but then I broke down and ate a lot of cheese (left over from the auction), cube after cube after cube. Oh so good.
Don't expect a weigh-in report tomorrow.
—Lady C, reader, procrastinator
Saturday, May 5, 2012
(Though I did vacuum my floors and do three loads of laundry.)
I was just so wiped today! Chores were done slo-o-o-owly, then I read another chapter of Catching Fire to Li'l Martini (Katniss has reluctantly accepted Finnick as an ally in the arena, and Peeta just died — we're riveted!), and then I got into the tub and soaked away my aches for two hours. I've drunk approximately three gallons of water, and I feel rested and rehydrated.
We had Nicola's pizza for dinner (Mimosa and I shared our favorite, a White Roman, comprising LOTS of fresh garlic, fresh basil, extra mozzarella, olive oil, and Romano cheese, yum), and I also had a big vegetable salad with just a dab of Greek dressing, and then I ate 45 bite-size blondies left over from last night.
Perhaps I'll delay weigh-in till Monday.☺
We're also catching up on all the TV we taped this week and haven't got around to watching yet, which is slightly complicated by the fact that different combos of us watch each show and there isn't one show that all four of us watch (Falling Skies in the summer — that's all I can think of). So Husband and Mimosa and I watched How I Met Your Mother (oh, baby!), then Mimosa and I watched Smash (love!), and now Martini and I will watch Survivor and see if Husband wants to join us for Modern Family. In short: A lovely Saturday evening at home with the Chardonnays.
Happy Cinco de Mayo!
The Auction was fantastic. I don't know how much money we raised, but it was so so so totally fun! My Auction day started at 10 a.m. at Costco with my co-president, whom I adore. It was my first journey to Costco, and — holy cow! Mesmerizing!!
(We needed cocktail napkins, and I said to Co-Prez, "I've done a precise mathematical estimate; we need 575." She grabbed the smallest package and said, "You're getting 2,000." !!!! Costco is hilarious.)
And then the rest of the day was a blur of slicing, chopping, spearing, baking, plattering, serving, replenishing, washing, drying. Oh, and drinking. Good lord, but the kitchen wenches put away a lot of wine! My kitchen soulmate from the last auction, whom I've lovingly nicknamed Chesty McBreasty, was by my side from 3 p.m. on, alternately drinking Chardonnay and SkinnyGirl Margaritas; she cranked the radio, and we danced and drank, cooked and sang. The kitchen was the place to be. It was a blast.
When the Auction proper ended, around 10, the DJ was all ours; the Auction stalwarts gathered in the open area and danced and danced for another hour. So much fun!!! I did do the "Thriller" dance with my buddy; I also flirted with her husband (he's my electrician — I love him), and she asked if I'd jump out of the cake at his birthday on Sunday. Hee! And I pointed out to the DJ that most of the dancers were girls; could he play something just for us? And then he played "It's Raining Men," which was hysterical. It was all so much fun; I felt pretty and popular and happy. And also fit — you should see how low I can get when I'm dancing now, and my arms are so much thinner! A party is more fun when you've got thinner arms, that's what I believe.
Today I am sore and achy — oh, my tired legs — and also a tad dehydrated, but still happy and glowing. I will do quick, simple chores (it's Chore Day, of course) and then take a mid-day bath. My latest book, Conversations with the Fat Girl, is turning out to be fantastic, and I have another one in my library pile from this author, so, yay! Afternoon plan!
I also expect to use my vacuum like a walker, to hold me up and give me support. My legs are really sore and tired. Did I mention that?
But it was worth it!!!
—Lady C, exhausted yet exhilarated
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Which leads to my second big learning: There is not so much what you would call universal agreement about how to do the "Thriller" dance. I spent an hour and a half on one Web site that I found very helpful. So then I decided to branch out and see if I could keep up with the people in the iconic dance scene from 13 Going on 30.
Short answer: No.
Longer answer: No, because what they're doing doesn't match what I just learned from my Web site!
So, which one is more accurate? I visited a few other Web sites, all of which taught slightly different moves. Then I watched the original Michael Jackson video, which was unhelpful, as it focused more on MJ than the zombies. Which, OK, makes sense if you're MJ, but was nonetheless unhelpful. Then I watched a few YouTube videos of wedding parties astounding their guests by breaking into the "Thriller" dance . . .
. . . and that took quite some time, I love weddings. It was really fun to hang out with these other happily married couples and check out the dresses on the bridesmaids and try to discern the exact relationship between the bride and the maid of honor, the groom and the best man — siblings? best friends? something else? — and look for glimpses of the food, also weeping guests, particularly dads, which always destroys me. Love it all! I wish I got invited to more weddings. My besties are all pretty much married. Maybe we should start renewing our vows.
Anyway. I imagine you have a question or two about now? And here is the answer: Tomorrow night is our Dallin School auction, and we are having a DJ. One Dallin School mom knows the "Thriller" dance, and if we get her sufficiently likkered up, she is sometimes willing to dance it for us. But only sometimes! I've seen her do it twice — and each time thought, Wow, I wish I could do that. And today I have no paying work, no urgent task (tonight I have several urgent tasks, but today, not so much), and I declared that today was "Thriller" Dance Day.
Except, and except. Well, I did my best. And if we're both likkered up enough, I'll just follow her lead . . . and if I forget the steps (highly likely), I'll do something zombie-esque, and all will be well.
In other news: OW.
Two zumba classes in a row (yes, I went last night) with the Italian Spitfire, and every part of me hurts. I'm actually glad that I'm missing Sexy Dancey Nancy's class tonight. (I have to [a] buy grapes for the auction and wine for the kitchen wenches, [b] drop by the auction site to check out the kitchen and see what I need to bring from home — I'm in charge of food tomorrow night, and [c] attend the monthly RE Committee meeting at church. Busy girl!)
At the end of the Wednesday night class, when I'm all prepared to do a soothing cool-down number, instead Italian Spitfire barks, "Get your mats!" and we do half an hour of ab work. The only saving grace last night was that one of our ab exercises was the core exercise I do at home and I knocked it out of the park, quite surprising my ab partner (since my attempt to do an actual sit-up one minute before had resulted in my almost dislocating both shoulders, shrieking loudly, and then rocking and keening to myself for 30 seconds). Oh, and also, last week she made us do something hateful and cruel called "The Plank," which I could only do for about 3 seconds before collapsing — but last night I managed to hold it for 15 seconds, so, yay! Progress.
And that is my third big learning of the day: Progress . . . can be painful.
Feel free to quote me!
—The learnèd Lady C
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Last night I wore the hot new outfit to zumba class: a clingy black top in sort of stretchy lacey fabric, long black Spandexy pants, and my hot-pink sports bra. Everything was well-cut and fit nicely, and I had impressive and well-supported cleavage.
I felt naked.
For me, "sexy" has always been about cleavage and whatever I do with my face and hair; I really feel like I've got nothing else. To present the entirety of my body like this . . . yowza. I could barely get my jacket off. Someone said, "You look like you've been out in the sun, you're all pink," and I said, "I'm blushing" — all over!
The class, though, couldn't have been nicer. They actually applauded me! The Italian Spitfire gave me a wolf whistle! A woman I know only slightly came over and said, "I noticed when you came in, before you even got your jacket off, how toned you're looking." The woman who always stands behind me gave me a hug. It was really, really sweet.
I think I will wear "the outfit" every time I lose another five pounds. That will be a nice way to celebrate and announce. But I don't see myself wearing this every week!
My Brilliant Career
Today I printed and mailed my application for the Children's Writer-In-Residence Program. Fingers crossed! All I can do now is hope (and try not to think about it, really).
As I was printing, which took a while, I got a work request from one of my favorite clients, someone I haven't heard from in a while, to do a job that sounds awesomely fun. Good omen, you think? I will take it as such.
I went to my favorite Thai place for lunch to celebrate, and I was determined to pig out and drink lots of wine. First I had a very interesting salad, comprising lettuce, tomato, rice noodles, shrimp, snap peas, shredded carrots, and a sweet-spicy dressing — yum! And then I tucked into a gorgeous plate of Pad Thai . . . and was full after 10 bites. And I did have wine, but stopped at two glasses (back in the day, I could put away four, no problem. Not that that was usual, but for a celebration lunch? No problem). It was interesting to see how my stomach has shrunk, or whatever. I went to Starbuck's right after for a coffee and thought of getting a sweetie . . . but I just didn't want one. So that in itself was a kind of celebration.
Darling Barry, Missing the Mark
My new Manilow CDs have arrived and I've been enjoying a musical orgy! But I have to say, I am very disappointed in his rendition of "You've Lost that Loving Feeling" — he's way too upbeat and chipper. This is a heartbreaking song! Whenever I hear it, I'm instantly transported to the horrible weekend when it looked like my best male friend and I (I'll name no names) couldn't be friends any more. (He is more likely to describe it as "That Weekend You Were Such a B**ch.") That sang came up in my CD rotation, and I played it over and over and over again as I drove home (he lived a couple hours away at that time), weeping, weeping, weeping.
Barry's peppy little ditty is just all kinds of wrong. But so far, that's the only song I haven't loved.
Oh, and my best male friend and I have since made up and are total besties again. But I'll still name no names. ☺
I Think There Was One More Thing, But I'm Blanking
I'll add it later if it comes to me. Right now, I've got to get dinner on the table and decide whether I'm going to zumba tonight. (I am SO tempted to blow it off and stay home and drink wine and watch TV and take a bath and wallow. But I'll probably go.)
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
And today — I deleted all of it. It's now a short, crisp, to-the-point letter, saying little more than "Enclosed please find my application." It reads just fine, but was that the right choice? Who knows?
In other news, it occurred to me that I forgot to announce my weekly weigh-in total:
- Sunday's scale reading: 255 !
My husband officially started his summer vacation today, so he'll be home with me all the time now. (Yay?) But we celebrated his First Day of Vacation by going out to breakfast together, which was lovely. And we talked about the semi-fight we had a few days ago, and we didn't get mad, and it was a good conversation, and all is sunny and well in the Chardonnay household.
Tonight is zumba, and I plan to break out the slinky new outfit. I expect many ooohs and aaahs. And then I'll work out hard and get tired and feel unable to hold in my stomach any longer, and the crowd will make a different noise. But, hey — first impressions are key.
Happy birthday to my dear friend Sleepy Susan! I am very very happy that you were born.
Birthday cake for everyone!