Life Happens...Game On

In the Realm of "That Ain't Right"

I'm in San Francisco this week (technically I'm here until Friday morning for business and after that it turns into a long planned girls weekend with Jennifer in Napa) and I'm exhausted because even though it is only 8 here, it is past my bedtime at home. At any rate, I've had this rolling around in my head for a couple of days and thought I would sit down and sort it out.

I was driving into the office the other morning, listening to The 90s on XM. "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan was playing and I was singing along to the parts that I know (basically the chorus). The song went off and the next song up? "Baby Got Back" by Sir Mix-A-Lot. Now, tell me that isn't wrong. Seriously? I was so thrown off that I didn't even sing along...and I like that song. Probably because I have plenty of, uh, back.

But really now. Anyone who has ever made a mix tape in their lifetime knows you cannot just go from one of those songs to the other. You must have some transition to slide you from the sweet and melancholy to the in your face. Any good DJ could take you from Sarah to Sir in six songs or less...but you've got to have the in-betweeners to make it work.

*sigh* Amateurs. Sit me in a DJ booth. I'll whip out some tunes for you and at least put some consideration into it before I put the needle on the record.

Oh, and on a side note. You want to know what else just "ain't right"? 12 hours locked in a room doing interviews. I'm not sure what part of consultant equals robot, but I'll certainly be glad when this weekend gets here. I think I will certainly be in the mood to toss down a glass or two of cab sav (and reisling, and pinot noir, gewurtztraminer, and champagne...)

Meet Whatshisname

This is Mom's new hairball. I must say, he's the cutest piece of fluff this side of the Rio Grande. Even Todd kind of likes him...although he's not so sure what to think about Todd.  Nonnie? Well, she's a little indifferent. As long as he stays off her bed.

Other than the incessant (and typical - he's 8 weeks) need to chew and tug on your socks while they are still on your feet, he's actually a pretty good puppy. The problem is...he has no name. At least not one that has stuck. He's briefly been both Bojangles and Caesar. I've suggested Rocky (still Todd's favorite...Mom hates it because it's a "big dog's name), Andy, Diego, Chico and Brutus. According to Mom, nothing fits.

So now what? He can't go through life being known as hey you. And Mom is getting aggravated because Todd and I persistently call him Super Fuzz (you KNOW that would be a great name for him!). Anyone have any suggestions? Because I'm running short on ideas over here, and Mom doesn't know how to name boys. Seriously, if I had been a boy they were planning on calling me Skip Landon and then it was Skeet Landon. That's all the proof you need of her boy-naming skills.

If you have a suggestion - I would love to hear it. In the meantime, I leave you with both puppy AND baby cuteness!

Woot!

I'm so excited...I just hit the first of many weight loss goals. I have a pair of jeans hanging in my closet - one of the few pairs I didn't toss in a recent purge - that I kept these because they are still cute enough to wear if I get back into them. At any rate - the last time I even attempted to put them on they stopped at my hips. And when I say stopped, what I really mean is I thought I might possibly need a shoe horn or something to get myself out of them.

There I was, putting some shoes back in my closet and I caught a glimpse of them where I keep them hidden toward the back and I thought "what the heck?" and pulled them off the hanger. As I was sliding my legs in, I wondered to myself why it is that I like to torture myself this way. Sort of like the way I weigh myself at least 10 to 15 times a day. Torture. But to my surprise, they slid up...past my hips. So then, I thought, "we'll try zipping them". And they zipped. The next step was buttoning of course...so I sucked in and LO and BEHOLD, they buttoned.

I was so happy, I went into the living room and did the Brandy Dance of Joy for my Mom. I think she found me amusing. Or perhaps just thought I had a bee up my shirt. But whatever. They FIT!

Okay, so maybe I wouldn't wear them out in public just yet (can you say muffin top?), but soon...oh yes, soon. Mwahahahahahaaaaaa!!!!!!

The Peanut Report - 8 months

How did we get here? One moment, the peanut is this tiny little, well...peanut full of blissful baby sighs and cuddles. The next, she's a rambunctious little jumping bean that only cuddles when it's sleepy time or the world is being unfair.

8 months. They've gone by so fast. And it seems like there's constantly something new going on. I try to keep up as best I can, but I know there are things that I will probably forget. But for now, here's what I do know:

1) She's up to six teeth. Two on the bottom and four on the top. That's right, she's no longer the wolfman (or wolfbaby in her case). Her two top front teeth decided to make an appearance at the same time just this past week.

2) While I suspected she wouldn't crawl until after she walked (or perhaps not at all) she's proven me wrong. Sort of. She's currently perfecting her version of what I guess is called the army crawl. While on her tummy, she pushes with her feet and knees and drags herself with her arms. This maneuver generally only comes out when a particularly desirable toy is in front of her.

3) Baby food? Pffft. She wants "groceries" as my Mom puts it. If you are eating something, you better be prepared to share. Same goes for drinking. Her favorite food? Cheese. Ahhh...she definitely takes after her parents on that one.

4) She's mastered her walker - we sometimes take her out onto the driveway and put her in her walker and turn her loose. No more the hesitant little peanut, she goes boldy where no peanut has gone before...charging back and forth across the driveway and even maneuvering herself out of roadblocks such as head-on collisions with Granny's car.

5) There are several words she can say. I'm fairly certain she doesn't actually realize she's saying something when she says them...but then again maybe she does. Her current vocal stylings include "yeah", "hi", "hey", "yes(h)" and "uh uh". The last one makes me a little nervous, especially when she does it in conjunction with the back and forth shaking of her head that everyone recognizes as "no". Who needs "mama" and "dada"? Although...she does occasionally say something that comes out like "MOMMMMY". Again, that one makes me a little nervous since she usually says that one when she is frustrated or angry.

6) I suspect she is going to fall under the same curse that grabbed me as a toddler. While all the other little girls will have a head full of long gleaming hair, Paige will most likely have short tufts that cover her head and stick out like cowlicks. We'll see. I have hope - Mom told me today that she already has longer hair than I did at 8 months.

7) The peanut is quite a little water bug. She loves her baths and playing with her bath toys...although her favorite bathtime game is "let's see how much water we can get out of the tub and onto Mommy". She also likes going to the pool...we have a little floatie for her, but her favorite is when you take her out and hold her so she can splash around and attempt to drink the water.

So, now that you've suffered through the torture of reading...onto the real reason you are here. Gratuitous baby cuteness. Without further ado...here she is, the peanut in all her 8 month glory.

 

Choices

I used to work with a guy who would make you want to vomit. He worked out all the time and ate so much grilled chicken you would think he might start growing feathers. Yeah, he was healthy.

In our office, he stuck out like a sore thumb and he never fit in (although that did have a lot to do with things outside of his eating/exercising habits as well). I'm not necessarily saying that we are unhealthy, but well, we like food. At least I do. I think we all have our various addictions and cravings for certain types of food - and grilled chicken isn't high on that list.  I personally lean toward junk. Or maybe junk isn't the right term. Fried. Yeah. That's better.

I like fried food. Love it. But you know what? I finally see what it's gotten me. Clogged arteries, extra chins, a massive rear end and the inability to recognize myself in photographs. How's that for honesty?

I've always been the person who avoids decision-making, preferring instead to take the path of least resistance. But, I finally came to the realization that I had a decision to make. I could either continue down the fried food highway (the path of least resistance) or I could make an effort to finally care about myself as much as I do my loved ones. Welcome to the land of grilled chicken.

Over the years, I've started and stopped various fad diets/gimmicks/you name its in my quest to find the easy way to have the great body. And yeah, sometimes they've worked. (Despite my blubber, I still have the cuts in the upper part of my stomach that identify where the start of my 6 pack used to be.) Starving? I don't have what it takes to starve myself, although I pulled it off pretty well during various parts of college (combined with a ridiculous cardio and abdominal regimen). Atkins? I know some people make a lifestyle out of Atkins, but all I can say is more power to them. I knew I had scraped the bottom of the barrel when I ate a pancake made primarily from pork rinds. Weight Watchers? Sure, it works for weight loss if you follow it the way it is intended - but give me an inch and I'll take a mile i.e. I don't want to cut my chicken ranch sandwich into 8 pieces and only eat one of them, thank you very much.

This time, I've chosen to do things the hard (slow) way. Me being me, I do have to have some some sort regimen to follow. I don't do well when left to my own devices. So, I'm following the Body for Life methodology, which in its purest form boils down to "eat healthy, work out". That's it. The rest is up to me. There's no magic pill. The weight doesn't magically fall off. I have to work my butt off to get it. And as I sat last Friday night staring down a bowl of M&M's that had been placed in front of me by some well meaning person, I just reminded myself that it was my choice. If I wanted I could reach over and have a handful. Or I could reach over and have the entire bowl. Or, I could wait until my free day, when, by BFL guidelines I'm allowed to eat those things that are oh-so-good but so not healthy - written in to help make the program sustainable (because really, who wants to go the rest of their life without eating a piece of dulce de leche cheesecake?).

My decision? I chose me. And before you think I'm going and getting all preachy now (whew, down from that soapbox) I don't expect that I will be perfect. I am only human after all. There will be days when I falter. Days when maybe the handful of M&Ms wins or when the thought of hauling myself out of bed to hit the gym is just unbearable. But as long as I can isolate those (thank you BFL Buddy Amy for passing on the concept of isolation!) and keep myself moving down this new path, I'll still come out far ahead of where I am now.