I haven’t updated in a L O N G time.  What can I say?  It’s hot.  But all is well and good with me and my family.    Trips to the beach, the state fair and my parents pool have been filling our weekends.   it never ceases to amaze me how quickly kids advance in their swimming abilties when they get regular pool access.  My boys have gone from white knuckles clinging to my neck to solo running leaps into the pool in just a few short weeks.   So much to be thankful for.

Of course, I do still write over at the other place.  ‘Cause a girl’s gotta eat.  Latest posts over there:

Bacon, Raisin, Broccoli Slaw

Blueberry Crisp

Yum.

 I am sitting at my desk today and every so often my boob itches.  Since my desk faces the door, and my office is on a pretty busy thoroughfare, I do not have the optimum environment for boob scratching.  Plus it isn’t on the top, where I can do a surreptitious crossing my arms like I am really paying attention to something when I am really just trying to dig a nail into what feels like a little ant in my bra.  Nope, this itch is wedged down under the belly of my right 42 DDD. 

Down below.  Way deep.  Hoisting will be involved.

So I am stuck at my desk for a conference call with no way to undo the horrible itch.  Which gives me plenty of time to mentally explore what the F is causing it.  I cover all of the bases - Clean bra? Body? Shirt?  Check, check , check.  Always, Always, Always. New soap?  No.  New detergent?  No.  New perfume?  Lotion? Fabric softener? Shampoo? Conditioner? SPF 15? Mousse?  Spritz?  Self-tanner? nonononononononononono

Geez, am I single handedly keeping U.S. toiletry sales in the black or what?

I am dying here and it is only getting worse.  Finally the call ends and I skip off to my sanctuary.  I rip up my shirt and start scratching when I feel something.  (No, not a lump.  Thank God a million times over.)   

So I whip off my bra and I find it.  Something is stuck in between the layers of silky cup fabric.  Of this bra I am only wearing for the second or third time.  The one that I spent a little extra on because, well, good hoists for 42 DDD’s aint cheap. 

I search the whole thing for an entry/exit point, and find nothing.  I have to get that thing out, and I am going to have to cut it out.  I run back to my desk and grab my scissors and am back in the sanctuary doing very delicate surgery to remove the thing and not ruin the bra.  I get it out, leaving a pea sized hole in the bra.  It’s a pebble.  A PEBBLE sewn into my BRA. 

I don’t remember that in any fairy tales. 

I sat there for a while, looking at the pebble, and wondering how it is that I am so busy that it took me two or three wearings to notice that a pebble is lodged up against one of my most intimate of areas. 

I would have made a great smuggler.  Apparently.

Ooh, the flossy, flossy,

So I am lying in bed this morning in denial that I have to get up.  Tom is already in the shower.   Eamon shuffles in, blankie in one hand, Sammy the dog in the other.  I give him a hand up into bed and he snuggles in next to me.  Jonas follows shortly after.  More blankies, more stuffed dogs. 

For a few minutes it is familial bliss.  The boys are comfy in our bed, chatting about their plans for the day and I have at least 8 more minutes before Tom vacates the bathroom.  Then some sort of pillow-space related skirmish breaks out and I have to referee.  Since I saw Eamon draw first blood (he threw Jonas’s doggie off the bed and then yanked his blankie away) he got the reprimand.

It is silent for a minute while they contemplate the error of their ways.  Then Eamon mutters under his breath “Yucky Mommy”. 

(”Yucky” is the new ‘Bitch”.  Haven’t you heard?)

Jonas rises to my defense.  “Mommy isn’t Yucky!  She is beautiful and pretty!”

My heart swells at his sweet compliments.  You always hear how much boys love their mommies, and while I do kind of feel that adoration, this is the bona-fide spoken confirmation.  I tell him that he makes me feel so good when he says that.  That he makes me happy and makes me want to squeeze him and steal all of his kisses.

His reply?

“Daddy told me to say that.”

1. You have 10 dollars and need to buy snacks at a gas station. What do you get?
Fountain soda Coke, Utz Cheese Curls, Utz Cheese Popcorn, and a Butterfinger

2. If you were reincarnated as a sea creature, what would you want to be?
Killer Whale - i like the way they look, and I am sort of experienced judging from the foul mood this fat girl was in yesterday

3. Who’s your favorite redhead?
Lucy

4. What do you order when you’re at IHOP?
I’ve dont recall ever making an IHOP visit, but I would order a mushroom and swiss omelette with biscuits and hashbrowns.  That’s what I feel like.  Ask me tomorrow and I will say waffles with strawberries and cream.

5. Last book you read?
The Three Miss Margarets.  Someone left it on the book sharing table at work.  i really liked it.  Light mystery/older southern chick book.

6. Describe your mood.
Only slightly less foul than yesterday.  Like a killer whale.

7. Describe the last time you were injured.
Mothers Day 2008.  I was up early and decided to spend my (FREAKING MOTHERS DAY!!) morning doing laundry.  I was loading the washing machine and I reached up on the shelf above to grab the Downy, and the washing machine lid fell on my left thumb.  The nail is black from the nailbed up.  I will have a black thumb nail all summer.  Fabulous memento of Mothers Day 2008.

8. Of all your friends, who would you want to be stuck in a well with?
Jackie.  Who I have not heard from in a while.  I hope I am not supposed to be in some well in Georgia right now….I had better call her.

9. Rock concert or symphony?
Rock concert.  I think.  I have a headache.

10. What is the wallpaper of your cell phone?
I don’t have a cell phone.  I know. 

11. Favorite soda?
Fountain soda regular Coke.

12. What type of shirt are you wearing?
White. 3 quarter length sleeves, with black trim around the sleeves and scoop neck.  Matches my black capris.

13. If you could only use one form of transportation?
Hybrid SUV

14. Most recent movie you have watched in theater?
I refuse to answer this on the grounds that it will be the only pathetic thing you remember about me.

15. Name an actor/actress/singer you have had the hots for.
Tie between Andy Garcia, Clive Owen and Jon Stewart

16. What’s your favorite kind of cake?
A really good NY style cheesecake or my Coconut Pecan Layer Cake

17. What did you have for dinner last night?
Ten cheap chicken wings and celery.  I know.  Shut up.

18. Look to your left, what do you see?
A fifties-era vinyl upholstered “Office Chair” for my lucky office guests.

19. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?
No.

20. Favorite toy as a child?
Barbies

21. Do you buy your own groceries?
About 25%.  Tom does the majority of the grocery shopping. 

22. Do you think people talk about you behind your back?
Yes.

23. Gummy Worms or Hershey Kisses?
Hershey, all the way

24. What’s your favorite fruit?
Strawberries.

25. Do you have a picture of yourself doing a cartwheel?
In my head.  Its really, really bad.

26. Do you like running long distances?
I dont like running from my bed to the bathroom.  So,  no.

27. What is your secret trash food pleasure?
I have been known to enjoy instant mashed potatoes. But I didn’t say that.

28. What color are your bedsheets?
Very light blue or white.

29. What’s your favorite flower?
Peonies.

30. Do you do ballet?
Another horrible picture in my head.  No.

31. Do you listen to classical music?
Sometimes

32. What is the first TV Theme song that pops in your head?
“Come and knock on our door…..”

33. Are you really worried about Global warming?
No, but I going very green as much as possible.

34. What temperature is it outside right now?
73- perfect

35. Do people consider you smart?
Some do.  Others think I am just average because I am the dreaded “bubbly”.  Not that you have seen much of that around here lately.

36. On what occasions do you lie?
When I tell my kids that the TV is asleep and wont wake up until tomorrow

37. Are you signed on [to] AIM?
No.

38. Have you ever tried gluing your fingers together?
Tried, no.  But they have been glued together several times, a la Lee Press on nails and Super Glue.  Back in the day.

39. How do you feel about your family?
Love, love love.

40. Do you have an iPod?
No.  And no cell phone either.  I am bringing Laura Ingalls back.

41. What time do you go to bed?
10-ish

42. What CD is currently in your CD player?
I don’t even know where my CD player is.  In my car CD player is an awesome mix CD of funky kids songs that my nephew made up as favors for my kid’s B-day party.  

43. What movie do you know every line to?
Godfather I and II.  Test me.

44. What is your favorite salad dressing?
Good Seasons Italian, made with Balsamic vinegar and a teaspoon of dijon mustard.

45. What do you want for Christmas this year?
Peace.  And joy. 

46. What family member/friend lives the farthest from you? Where?
Brother lives in L.A. and I miss him.

47. Do you like hugs?
From certain people. 

48. Last time you had butterflies in your stomach?
When I had to ask my boss if the new telecommuting policy meant no more telecommuting for me.  (it didnt)

49. What’s the way people most often mispronounce any part of your name?
Since it is “Michele” with one “L”, I get Michael when people read it.

50. Last person you hugged?
My stinky boys, when I left them at daycare.  It was delicious.

Random fact #51: I bought a Pedi-Egg, and that baby turned my troll feet into soft, pink, newborn feet.

So what do you want to hear about?  That not losing weight last week put me in a huge funk?  Or that I took Tim Russert’s death way too hard for someone who just watched him on sound bites and an occasional Sunday morning?  Or maybe the one about how we feel like all we do is work and still never have any money?

Yeah.  Me neither.

I went to a business conference for four days this week.  While on said trip, I had to decline fifty different delicious opportunities to eat my face off because I am “making healthier life choices”.  Some of these declines included gorgeous fruit tarts and chocolate croissants every morning on the breakfast buffet, an ice cream buffet during the afternoon break, and a freaking Candy Buffet during another afternoon break.  Not to mention the vast array of fabulous restaurants and gourmet foodie havens I also passed up, and the food service menu, which included eighty seven different ways to make me drool right there on the menu, and me, with an expense account to pay for it. 

Oh, and did I mention that even thought we have been under a Satanic Heat Wave both where I live and where the conference was, I EXERCISED , OUTSIDE, every freaking day the past week?  Sometimes even JOGGING, which I have not done for over TWENTY YEARS?????

So imagine my dismay when I went to my WW weigh in this morning and I did not lose.  Or gain.  I did nothing.  Same Mother F’in weight I was last week.   As if the eighty f’in seven moments of self-denial and the forty nine f’in gallons of sweat i dropped exercising had NEVER Happened.

F You Scale.  In the ass.  

PS - I found the picture here.  Please dont sue me, owner of picture.  I dont have any money.  Just a lot of back fat.

Before we hit the scale, I want to say thank you to all of you lovely people who come here and read me and leave comments.  Even if you just lurk. You are awesome.  You make me happy to have to sit at a computer all day for a living.  And like all of the birthday cards I bought for my husband today, I dont tell you enough how much I love and appreciate you.

I have now lost 27.8 pounds.  Let’s just round off to 28.  I am wearing pants today that I have not been able to fit in for 3 years. 

Speaking of Weight Watchers, sort of, please, please leave me now and go read this.  A woman found a bunch of 70’s era Weight Watchers recipe cards in her parents basement and she displays them.  With commentary.  Just a flavor, the recipes include “Fluffy Mackerel Pudding” and “Caucasian Shashlik”.    I have not laughed this hard in a long time.  Don’t make me laugh alone.

Years ago my husband was a Runner.  He ran track and cross country.  He was fast.  And he was skinny.  Because he could run for miles and miles, for days and days. 

By the time we met both of us had spent years in seated jobs , with comfy  incomes to pad our palates and our bums with wonderful new eating experiences.   Our earliest dates were culinary adventures.  And we both like to cook so there was also a lot of showing off in our respective kitchens.  The guy I met and fell in love with was far from the lean running machine he was in college.

But he was always in there, the Runner, inside him, wanting to get out and go.  He kept buying  good running shoes and running magazines, hoping to wake the Runner inside him.  And finally, a week or so ago, the Runner awoke. 

The Runner fell asleep a single guy with little responsibilities and lots of free time.  He was a solo runner.  But he woke up in a different world.  A world where his free time is measured out in the minutes between putting two kids to bed and falling asleep in front of the TV.  And now the Runner also has a wife.  A wife who never ran and never wanted to, but who also wants to meet this running man inside her comfy teddy bear of a husband.  So the Runner has had to alter his training regimen a bit and take a team approach.

Instead of solitary runs, he is running with the team.

Sometimes they run ahead.

Some teammates take it very seriously…

Others, not so much.

But Running Man thinks this team will work out just fine.

P.S.  His birthday is coming.  I made him his favorite Pineapple Upside Down Cake. 

So far I have lost  25 pounds.  I know.  I am happy.  But I still have so far to go. 

The other day I was talking to a friend of mine, who also struggles with her weight although on a smaller scale (har har) than I do.  She said that she was recently looking at pictures of her life from the last 10 or so years and she said she can tell me exactly how much she weighed in each picture.  And she hates that.  She hates that she carries those digits around in her head, imprinted on every single memory of her life.

The digits.  I can’t get away from the digits. I am doing great with Weight Watchers in the sense that I have changed my eating habits and I am always looking at the big picture in what I eat in a meal/day/week.  I am living a healhty, realistic diet.  I eat well on the plan and I save my flex points for my occasional splurge. And it is working.  I am losing weight, yet still able to live and enjoy cooking and eating what I like.  And this is the way I should have always eaten, and this is realistically a way I can see myself eating for life. 
 
But I cant get away from the digits.  My clothes fit better and I feel so much better, but I still keep comparing it to what I was back then and being overwhelmed by the numbers.

For example, when I started this diet my first goal was to get back to what I weighed before I got pregnant (2004).
 
The next milestone was losing 10% of my weight, as the American heart Association has recommended.

Then to get back to where I was right after the boys were born (2005).  I actually lost about 30 pounds when I was pregnant, from my first prenatal visit weight to my 2 week post-delivery weight.  The nurse made me get on the scale again like she didn’t believe the first weight.  She then drilled me on whether or not I was eating anything and if I had post-partum-depression.  I tried to explain that I was trying to nurse twins and that I felt like I was eating everything in sight but she obviously didn’t believe me because then the doctor drilled me too.  Mind you, I was still a good 100 pounds heavier than the BMI charts thought I should be.  I hardly think I was in danger of wasting away and disappearing into the sofa cushions. 

Next I want to get back to what I was when I met Tom (1999). 

Then down to what I was when I graduated from high school (1985)

And eventually down to what I was at the thinnest I can ever remember being as an adult (1993). 

You would think the chronology would go in order, but no.  I have skipped all over the place in the last 20 years.  Up, down, way up, way down, sideways, up a bit, down a bit, up a lot, and now down a bit. 

I wish I could just erase those milestone digits from my mind. There is so much other great stuff I should be filling my head with.

 I grew up in Dover, Delaware.  This past weekend Dover saw one of the two annual NASCAR races they host.  What is normally a sleepy, middle class town suddenly turns into crazy NASCAR central.  Parking lots that normally dont see much action become trailer and tent cities.  Quiet farmland turns into $20 per car parking, and eveywhere you turn 20 foot inflated beer cans and cell phones line the highways.  Vendors set up stands on every inch of available road side space, and everywhere the air is filled with the smell of chicken barbecuing on huge homemade oil drum grills manned by local firemen and ladies auxillaries. 

Growing up I heard a lot of complaining about the ”Race Fans” by the locals.  Traffic is crazy, and we knew to stay completely off the roads for three hours before and three hours after the start of the Saturday and Sunday races.  And forget about eating out in any restaurant all weekend, because lines are long and everything is packed.  Actually, the whole town is just plain packed and snarled.

But I have to admit, I secretly love the race fans and all of their noisy celebration.  I dont know my Kurt Busch from Dale Jr., but I do know that these races drive millions of dollars into the local economy.  Its exciting seeing the ESPN and Fox tractor trailers arriving, and seeing AAA and Sprint and Dodge erecting huge soundstages in their VIP party areas.  I like seeing a sea of people camping in the Acme parking lot and behind the mall.  I like knowing that the farmer whose grass is getting trampled by fans is also making a fortune in parking fees.  I like seeing the local scout troops quadrupling their fundraising goals by selling sodas and water to thirsty race fans.  I just plain like seeing people having a good time.

So welcome race fans.  I hope you had fun.  Have a safe trip back to Maryland, or New Jersey, or Virginia or Florida.  We’ll see you in September.

They sat in Kurt Busch’s race car Saturday night, and Sunday he won.  Coincidence?  I think not.

There is new recipe up over at my other place.  Grilled Lemon Chicken.  The best thing to do with boneless, skinless.