life is crazy

Who Doesn’t Yell During the Superbowl?

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

With Sarcastic Roommate here, I was finally allowed to watch a sporting event in peace. You see, up until now Snarky Daughter and Scout Son were pretty sure I was the only person in the history of the world who yells at the TV during sporting events and the State of the Union.

Enter Sarcastic Roommate. This is her first year here so she has only heard about Snarky Daughter asking me during the Hail Mary pass of last year’s game, “Do I need to turn the TV off?”

Yes, I failed as a parent on this point. My kids don’t get sports. Football and basketball are too violent. So sayeth Snarky Daughter. Excuse me? I get football, but basketball?!!? This from the girl who will watch a 234 car pile up without batting an eye because someone couldn’t quite turn left enough at 189 miles per hour.

And yes, I yell during NASCAR races too. Really, if there’s a sporting event on, I’ll pick a side and for the next few hours, I’m a devout fan of that team. Being a Bay Area native, you’d think my choice was set in stone. And it was, although my family probably wishes I’d picked the Ravens instead because then San Francisco would have won. I’m really a Bears fan, and we saw how their season went.

Anyway, 6:00, I kick the kids off their Doctor Who marathon — hey, they discovered him last month, I discovered football 35 years ago — and headed over for pre-game commercials. Which meant I could now eat the chips and dip I’d picked up. Yeah, me!

Sarcastic Roommate came downstairs and joined in on the chips and dip ’cause we know how to throw a party. The game started and within three minutes I was yelling at the TV. I considered for a nanosecond trying to behave with decorum, but I was raised by FANS. Also, SR was having her own conniption fits on her couch.

Snarky Daughter: You two know they can’t hear you, right?

SR & Me: That just means we need to yell louder!

You can tell she fits right in. Deep into the nightmare that was the first quarter, so maybe five minutes of play or 20 minutes of air time, SR spied Scout Son’s computer. He too, was ignoring the game, because yes, I totally failed. He was playing his new Monopoly app.

Clearly Snarky Daughter was desperate to get us to quiet down with the yelling at the football game, because she quickly agreed to a rousing game of Star Wars Monopoly. It’s not like the Niners were playing anything worth watching during the first half. We did slow down play long enough to watch all the commercials. The Joe Montana BBQ sauce stain Tide commercial is my favorite. Yes, I loved the farmers and the horse, but they made me cry, and only the outcome of the game should do that.

Well that and being beaten in Monopoly by SD. Honest to God, every other time she went around the board she landed on Free Parking. And yes, we play by putting $500 in Free Parking as well as every stupid charge you get that doesn’t go to someone specific. I’m pretty sure all the money she was raking in came from me. We all gave up play when we realized we were all waving rents.

I went back to yelling at the TV. SD decided she had to take a shower to drown out my yelling. Having watched sporting events with my neighbors, I know I’m not the only one who yells at the TV.

They can hear me, right?

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Wintery Mix aka Sleet

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

Ice. 1/10th of in inch of ice really doesn’t sound like much. Because. It. Isn’t. Unless you live in the South. Then, it’s a crisis. Here’s how yesterday went for me.

5:50am – Phone rings. Blindly reaching for phone to beat it from ringing a second time on Sarcastic Roommate’s day off, I accidentally hit some button that was not “talk.” And there went whatever the school system wanted to tell me regarding school. Sigh. Now I must leave bed and stumble into the living room to find a laptop and see that was so important. Right. School’s out at 11:00. THAT was information I needed at 5:50.

6:00 – Let dog outside. It’s 20something out there. Balmy. She’s a Doberman. No undercoat, so no doggy insulation. She should be an honorary member of the Polar Bear Club.

6:05 – Awake now, so hey, let’s do a killer yoga workout. Have I mentioned DDPYoga to y’all yet? It’s a really low impact aerobic yoga workout. And if the kids are coming home early, I want to find my inner peace early.

6:12 – Princess Cassie returns from her frolic outside. She must now curl up under multiple blankets and supervise my workout. Because yes, a Doberman adds inner peace to any workout. Have I mentioned three cats are whining at the baby gate at my door, reminding me, just in case I forgot, that yes, they do need Prozac in the morning.

7:20 – Borrow Sarcastic Roommate’s car to drive Snarky Daughter to her carpool. Discuss what to do if college class is not cancelled (which takes place after high school closes).

7:45 – Hello, shower. I love you. You are warm water. You are peace. There is no dog. There are no cats. Can I stay here forever? Well no, because then you couldn’t…

8:00 – Make Orange Cranberry Scones. Yum!

8:30 – Look out window while eating scones and reading morning blogs – oh hey, it’s snowing! Three hours before forecasted. Wonder how long before school cancellation gets -RING! Right. Kids out at 9:30. How nice for them. I think this was the moment I decided work was not happening today.

8:45 – Text from Snarky Daughter. College class still on. What do I do? Response from me (apparently sent via email to her father): Come home.

9:29 – Panicked call from Snarky Daughter. Do I get on the bus? YES!!!

9:30 – Make Apple Cranberry Dessert.

9:32 – Call from Scout Son: School’s getting out early. Me: Get ON the bus. Really, children, my car is in the shop. Unless you plan on walking home, you better be on these buses.

10:00 – Start making Butternut Squash Soup. I told you, at the point kids were coming home early, I gave up on any real work getting done. The snow has now turned to sleet and I want the house to be warm and inviting when the kids come home. Yeah, I’m that mom.

10:30 – Scout Son gets home and goes up to bedroom to pack for going to Dad’s. It’s the coldest day of the year and he doesn’t want cocoa. Go figure.

11:00 – Requested text from Snarky Daughter saying she is one stop from her bus stop. Stop making soup so I again steal Sarcastic Roommate’s car so Snarky Daughter does not have to walk 1/3 of a mile in the sleet. Have I mentioned how friggin’ cold it is outside? I’m being a really good mom today. My characters are totally jealous.

11:15 – Back to making soup.

11:18 – Text from mechanic. Car is ready!!! Praise God. And there’s not enough ice on the roads to keep me from picking it up. Let’s be real. There could have been 8 inches of snow on the roads and I would have gotten to that car. Stop making soup. Again.

12:03 – Back with car. I am now really poor, but the damn thing works, which is good because I am now driving 2 hours for a job interview on Monday. Finish making soup. Ply kids and ex with soup, pot roast and dessert.

1:30 – Everybody leaves. Now it’s time to sit down and work. Except… Scout Son left his DS on the couch. Long story short, thanks to the ice, Friday became a Saturday. And today I work while I wait for the ice to melt today and refreeze tonight. But I have soup, and a Doberman curled up next to me, so it’s all good.

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One Direction Gremlins

~ kimberly ~ 2 Comments

I was on my way to Barnes and Noble this morning in a desperate attempt to focus on my To Do List when I realized I was singing along to some teeny-bopper ear worm. How old do I sound right now?

Anyway, it was some totally bouncy thing that I KNOW we don’t own because all of the music in the house is stored on my laptop. I mean, really, you never know when I’m going to want to break out into something from High School Musical 3. OK, really, I just wasn’t paying for the crap more than once, so we have one iTunes account, and everything is on my iPod, iPhone and iEverything else I can buy.

Just remember that if you ever pick up my iWhatever and start looking at the play lists. It’s not a reflection on me. I’m the one who always has her iPod in the car, so everything is there.

Anyway…

How do I know the words to this song? And even though it turned out that this was not One Direction (I know ’cause it’s STILL in my head so I just typed in the lyrics – God Bless free Wi-Fi), earlier this summer when we visited Scout Son at Boy Scout Camp (I went three weeks without my parents each summer, why can’t Scouts go more than 3 days), the older Scouts did this skit with a One Direction song.

My ex about fell off of his log bench when he saw me singing and bopping along. And once again, I stared at him and sang, I have no idea how I know the words to this song. But. I. Do.

I blame One Direction Gremlins. I firmly believe they’re the reason I can’t sleep at night these days. They’re also the reason I can’t have any rational conversation. My brain cells that once held the Pythagorean theorem are slowing being reprogrammed with “Baby you light up my world like nobody else.”

Really?!!? Grumble. I was that young once.

So now I’m sitting at B&N with my computer getting some work done because Kelly and Michael, and Hoda and Kathy Lee have all invaded my Living Room (aka the Office) and who the hell invited them anyway? What? There’s an OFF button on the remote? But then who would I talk to.

I turned them on because I feed off of noise and after I left the day job I needed to find out what the heck everybody else cared about when they didn’t spend 12 hours at work/commuting. Well, I’ve officially hit my capacity for pop culture. It happened when I wanted a weather report this morning and got the damn Oscar nominations. Because this is somehow news, but how cold it isn’t going to be today, isn’t. At least at B&N I can eavesdrop, which for a fiction writer, is the equivalent of research. And doesn’t that sound much nicer?

Anyway, if I stayed home, I was going to pick up a paintbrush instead of designing a website, so here I am. At B&N wondering if the not so hot guy at the other table is really the pretty hot guy from match.com that said he’s always here. If so, he touched up that photo. Not that THAT ever happens online. But he took the time to finish his profile and all I do is see if there’s anyone that interests me enough to start my profile, so kudos to him.

Sadly, the conversation next to me is an elderly woman and her caretaker talking about cat behavior. Really, if I’d wanted that I would have stayed home and watched my three taunt the dog. I may have to move to a different table. Because the characters I’m working on right now don’t have a cat.

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Painting the Town, er Breakfast Nook

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

So I fell out of bed this morning and did DDP Yoga before heading off for allergy shots. Yes, it’s an exciting day here. The good news of the morning is… I’m not painting anything today.

This is big news.

For those of you who haven’t had the joy of living with me, here’s how my body works. Once a month, I want to fall asleep for about four days. I get up anyway, but it’s a battle, and my whole goal is getting back to bed. Ah, hormones. Yes, I’m still productive, but my happy thought is, only X hours before I can go back to bed.

That’s followed up by two or three days where I think I am invincible and try to get everything done on the never-ending To Do list. While being very grumpy. It’s insane, but it’s me, and my family handles it pretty well.

So I woke up on Sunday. Did I tackle the small pile of junk to go to Goodwill? No. Did I wash the dog? No. I made eggs and pancakes for everybody, then headed into the breakfast nook and started spackling holes in the walls and sanding the drywall. After that, it was a slippery slope I slid down, priming the walls, and then thought, wow, the ceiling looks like crap.

And so, I started painting. An eight-sided cathedral ceiling. Is it a cathedral ceiling when it’s 14 feet in the center, and slopes down like the inside of a gazebo? Well, that’s what I painted. For 8.5 hours over Sunday and Monday. On a ladder (I’m supposed to avoid those because I’ve had…a history with them). With a paintbrush because it’s a popcorn ceiling.

Amazingly, I was able to move today, for which I give credit to DDP Yoga, which I have been doing for 11 weeks. I haven’t lost a pound (remember, I drank my weight in wine in CA), but I haven’t gained anything either, and given what I’ve eaten in December, that’s impressive.

After yoga, I could move without pain. Thank you, God.

Scout Son and I traipsed over to the Big City for our allergy shots. And I treated us to a Krispy Kreme donut since we suffered so greatly.

With that, I’m back to working on the next book. Later this week, I’ll go back in and tackle the window trim and the walls. Because I’d really like to cross that room off the list. It got put on hold when autumn came, and the leaves fell. And fell. And fell. For four months. Did I mention I live in the woods?

I’ll post a photo of the nook when it’s done.

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Posting at 30,000 Feet

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

So, we’re in flight, on our way to California. At least, we were when I wrote this. The plane has Wi-Fi. My computer is showing a happy little Wi-Fi sign. But can I post this blog when it’s written? That would be a big, fat no.

Damned if I know why. I think it’s because everyone around me is streaming movies on their various technologies. Apparently I decided to get online too late in the game. Which wouldn’t bother me if we had an in-flight movie. But no, apparently we’d rather pack a couple hundred people onto a plane for six hours and provide no entertainment.

Yeah, I know. See previous statement about all the people streaming around me. But that’s them, not me. How am I supposed to tell you about anything if I can’t get online? And yes, I am the last person on the planet to not have a tablet of some sort. Until this moment, I didn’t think I needed one. And if even one of you points out something like tablets don’t need Wi-Fi to connect, I’m going to scream. The guy two rows back is watching Animal House. The guy across from me is watching some sort of news. What’s up with that?

So I thought I’d hook myself up with a little TNT and watch last night’s Leverage. Alas, that’s not happening. Actually, now it could happen, if I’m willing to cough up $10 for an hour. The problem is if I cough up the cash, I’m going to post this blog because now I’m thinking about writing, so I won’t be able to watch the whole episode.

What I should be doing is plotting the next book. But I’m tired. Like all of you, I’ve been going all day and my brain fried itself somewhere in the security checkpoint. During which something popped up on my ankle. I’m still trying to figure out what that was all about and fear a doctor left something in my foot during surgery years ago.

The Billionaire Bachelor's Revenge Book CoverAnd in a moment of total stupidity, I agreed to guest blog today at romancebandits.com. Do not get me wrong. I’m all about an opportunity to talk to folks about Billionaire Bachelor’s Revenge. Or, in this case, what their favorite thing is about the holidays, and share holiday recipes (Butterscotch Shortbread!). But when I picked the day, it obviously didn’t click that I’d be basically incommunicado because I’d be packing 8,543 cookies in our carryon luggage, or traipsing through an airport. Oops. I’m a little ticked about that because it’s a great group over there and they’d make this trip more interesting.

Then I had Snarky Daughter flipping out because she wanted to download a book onto her Kindle. Totally shocked that she could do that without the use of my computer. Duh! I have done this in front of her. Not sure why this came as a shock. Anyway, turn the Kindle on. Immediately get a low power warning. Climb over all the bodies packed around the outlets to add one more plug, and charge said Kindle. Load the book while waiting in line to get on the plane.

Finally on plane, eating really boring airport wrap. It claimed to have chipotle in it, but I found no spices. Flight attendant asks me what I’d like to drink. I had seriously been considering this for about fifteen minutes. Brought out the In-Flight Beverage Menu and everything. One drink will cost about the same as 50 minutes of Wi-Fi. And what with the bathrooms being miles away, I’m sticking with water.

And that, my friends, is my rambling from 30,000 feet. Hope you’re having fun today. Stop by romancebandits.com and see what’s up. I really am going to shell out some cash so I can get online and chat with folks for an hour. It is, after all, a business expense. Oh, and I’m giving away one copy of Billionaire Bachelor’s Revenge to someone who comments over there — NOT here, over there — so come on over!


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Snake in the Kitchen

~ kimberly ~ 1 Comment

Today’s post was supposed to be all about Snarky Daughter’s first pie. A fabulous pie. The best pie I’ve ever had. And subsequently dropped on the floor. Instead, we’re going to talk about the Snake in the Kitchen.

Having just gone through a week of prep work followed by a two-hour job interview (no idea how it went, don’t ask), I came home with grandiose plans to tackle all the stuff that had been put on hold for the past week. You know, 3 months of filing that had fallen over in my closet/office, going through the last two boxes of my mom’s paperwork that have been sitting in my living room for a couple of years, and taking care of all the PTSO stuff I haven’t done for several weeks because I went into denial that I was president.

I was really enjoying denial. I was also really enjoying talking to a friend I live too far away from about kids, spouses, lack of spouses and writing. All while sorting receipts and filing insurance paperwork. Yes, I keep that stuff. So I’m steadfastly ignoring my family, when I hear a scream.

Being a good parent, I try to climb up off the floor, but hello, I’ve got the body of a 73 year-old so it takes some time. And by the time I get up, I haven’t heard anything else, so I assume this is a simple “Ack, spider, I need the vacuum cleaner” moment.

About then, there’s a knock on my bedroom door. Hey, with Marking Kitten, all bedrooms are closed all the time.

Snarky Daughter: Mom, Sarcastic Housemate found a snake in the kitchen, and um, I can’t remember what we do.

Me: You don’t remember what to do? Wait, Sarcastic Housemate is home?

Me, thinking: Finally, off to trivia night and a glass of wine, because today has beaten me senseless. After I deal with the snake.

Scout Son: …

Who are we kidding? The last time he saw a snake, he screamed more than me and the damned thing was climbing my leg at the time. He was nowhere to be seen.

Me: Snake? Really?

Sarcastic Housemate: Yeah. I thought it was a stick or something because it’s kinda dark in here. I just assumed one of the dogs brought something in. Then it raised up to get me.

I’m now fighting the kitchen light switch. Have I mentioned the ballast is going bad on the light? On. Off. On. Off. On. Wiggle, wiggle. Let there be light!

Yep, that’s a snake. About as thick as my ring finger and maybe 18 inches long. And moving. Into. Snarky. Daughter’s. Bedroom.

Some of you snake lovers are saying, What kind of snake was it? Answer: Suicidal Snake. Dark and light pattern.

Did it have a diamond shaped head? Answer: How the hell would I know? It’s head is the size of a pencil eraser. It’s kind of hard to tell. Especially since I have now grabbed the only thing nearby — the WetJet — to try and pin it while Scout Son gets a shovel.

Yes, snake lovers. A shovel. Outside, he can do what he wants. Inside, and not sure of what kind he is, sorry, he’s done. But to make you feel slightly better, here are some identifications:

He did not look like this, the gift the dogs brought me this morning.

photo of mole my dogs brought home
Princess Cassie’s request for dinner. Request denied.

It looked amazingly like this, but you know, with a head.

photo of rat snake
With photography forethought, Princess Cassie retrieved the snake for identification this morning.

Having now done much snake research, it was a juvenile rat snake. Sorry. Enter my kid’s bedroom and I consider it an act of war.

Special thanks to Princess Cassie for realizing that I would need a photo and digging the snake out from under the deck (where it slipped while I was beating the heck out of it last night), and breaking it into several pieces and drying it on the deck so we could have snake jerky. Or so I could have to go get the shovel again and toss the bits into the woods on the other side of the electric fence for a proper burial. You know. Whichever. (Yes, she is now pacing from window to window trying to figure out how to get back to her tasties.)

So, kill the snake, go and have a glass of wine. Tune in Friday and see the Perfect Pie. That I destroyed. Because that’s the kind of mom I am. Snake and Pie Destroyer. I’ll just add that to my resume.

 

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Video Game Addict

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

I had a list of stuff to do this weekend. This shouldn’t be a shock to anyone. On my deathbed, I will be making a To Do list. Even as I’m writing this blog, I’m mentally coming up with stuff for today’s list. Take Advil is pretty high on that list. In fact, it was number one on the list when I was laying in bed, listening to the rain that is, in part, the reason for today’s migraine. But I digress…

There was a list. Unfortunately, like so many of us, my lists are usually made up of things like clean the bathroom and make a million dollars, and rarely have stuff on there like have fun with the kids. No biggie. The kids roll their eyes when there’s too much house stuff and not enough fun stuff, so it usually balances out. Because, while I make lists, I’m not the best at following them these days. I’m easily corruptible.

On Saturday the list could pretty much be broken down to: fix everything. I also have delusions of grandeur. Of course we can weed and mow five acres of grass and gardens, clean the house and lose 15 pounds in 8 hours! We started out pretty well. With three of us working in the garden, we managed to get 1.5 hours of weeding done in 30 minutes. We rock!

But in doing the weeding, lost in the weeds we found a mostly dead tomato plant and a watermelon plant that might have been a victim to some wild Round-Up spray earlier in the week. Add buy replacement plants to the list.

Heading inside, I took a shower. That was the downfall. If I’d stayed sweaty and nasty, there’s a chance — a slim chance — that I would have stayed on target. But while I was getting cleaned up, I remembered Scout Son’s desperate pleas to buy Risk Factions for the Xbox. Which required information from a more knowledgeable source (the guys at GameStop). And if I was hitting them up for knowledge after getting the plants, then I might as well trade in old games, have Scout Son show me what game he wants for his birthday, and you know, hit two yarn stores in my never-ending search for the perfect yarn for a blanket for me. Ha! New list. Better list. Much more fun list!

Hours later Scout Son and I return with xBox points in hand, answers in brain, and a plan: beat Snarky Daughter in Risk. SD didn’t look so happy about it, so I suggested that after that she could teach me how to play Epic Mickey. That made her day.

I’m not allowed to play video games. I love them. I fall into them and come out later wondering where June went. So, the idea that I wanted to play video games with them for hours was alien. First we did some of the icky cleaning found on the icky grown up list. Then I ordered pizza. And then I took over the world.

I’d be proud of beating everyone in Risk, but I followed that up with five hours of Disney characters kicking my butt. I limited myself to one hour on Sunday. And I got off the system after an hour and a half, which is better than when I picked up the book that morning for 20 minutes of reading and finished it three hours later.

Today I’m picking up the icky list again. After all, the kids leave for a week tonight and that means the game systems are all mine in the evenings. Wahahaha! Is knocking their high scores off of all the games a reasonable addition to the To Do list?

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Summer Vacation Should be Mandatory

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

Summer vacation. Remember that one?

Snarky Daughter started it before Memorial Day. Scout Son’s last day in seventh grade is Friday.

I’d forgotten how awesome summer vacation was. Until my contract ended in March. I’ve now been on summer vacation for going on three months. I’d like to tell you all it sucks. I mean money is tighter than tight, and while I dream of the beach, I can’t afford it, no matter how I run the numbers. Although I’m running to the store later for a lottery ticket, just in case I can win my way out of my financial crisis.

But, even with that hanging over my head, it’s still a great time of year to be off the clock. I walk every morning and listen to the birds. OK, I listen to some crazy woman from Prevention’s Walk Off Weight program telling me to walk faster, but that’s only in one ear. The other ear listens to the hawk overhead and prays he hasn’t figured out I have chickens in the yard. So far, so good.

I get to garden for a while each day instead of cramming it all into Saturday. And I get to play with my kids. Tomorrow I’m headed to the zoo with Girl Scouts. When Scout Son gets out, I can’t wait to play volleyball and badminton with him. I’m caught up on Boy Scout merit badges and rank advancements and both kids’ sashes are up to date. Shocking, I know.

But I’ve pretty much decided that everyone needs at least a month of summer vacation each year because of all the stuff you can cross of your To Do list. I’ve painted, cleaned, sorted, cleaned, stripped wallpaper, cleaned… you get the idea. Closets that I’ve been meaning to get to for years are straightened out. I’ve picked up knitting Snarky Daughter’s blanket since she dropped it two rows in two years ago.

In case you missed it, I’m also a lot happier since I’ve been on vacation. I’m more rested and exercising more, which always puts me in a better mental place. And that’s the real reason we all need summer vacation. To go play in the kiddie pool, relax and remember why fun is important and how much fun family is.

Enjoy your evening. I’m headed into the living room to battle my kids in a Super Monkey Ball race.

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End of School Brings…Sanity?

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

What is it about the end of the school year that makes everything crazy? Between proctoring exams, finals, and end of year parties and events that should not really affect me at all (after all, I graduated middle and high school back in the dark ages), work almost stops.
In the case of this blog, it did stop. But Snarky Daughter finished up school on Wednesday, and Scout Son is done next Friday, so oddly, peace will soon invade my life again. And I can’t wait.

You’d think without a day job that I’d have plenty of time to do, well everything. And to a certain extent, that’s been true. I just haven’t focused all my attention on writing. I’ve stripped wallpaper, painted SD’s new room, and as of this weekend, finished moving her in. Phew.

I’ve cleaned closets, looked for work, started learning HTML and am working my way through a wordpress.org class. I’m back to learning Italian.

And I’ve successfully gained 6 pounds. I’m so proud. Now, to be fair, I gained most, if not all, of those pounds while I was on medication after I smashed my hand. And I’m back on some of it since I slipped and threw my back out again. Woo-hoo!

But the pounds have to Go. Away. Now.

That sounds so easy. I mean, I’ve lost weight before. Today I weigh what I weighed the day before I had SD. And a pound less that what I weighed the day I brought SS home from the hospital. What can I say. He craved Cheetos and Twix bars for nine months. It was not pretty.

But when I lost baby weight, I wasn’t injured. And the fact is, I have a life-long injury, so my days of playing racquetball and lifting 15,000 pounds on weight machines a couple of times a week in order to stay fit are gone. No running. No high-impact anything. Zumba? My chiropractor and physical therapist both burst out laughing and started planning early retirements.

But I can walk. And according to the Prevention Walk of Weight program, I can lose weight walking. Of course, that program doesn’t say anything about cake. And I like cake. As a source of frosting, which I’m pretty sure is one of the food groups.

Here’s what I know from the few years that I was working out and learned that muscle feels different than fat. I feel better when I work out. I’m happier. In theory I eat less, although I haven’t seen that in the past few weeks. But I can dream. I can walk. And if I can do both of those, I can probably cross a few more things off my To Do list. Like organize my new office space. Or write a book.

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2 Billion Calories

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

Yesterday I burned roughly 2 billion calories. OK, according to mynetdiary, the app that tells me how many calories are in the evil chocolate chip cookies, I burned 978 calories yesterday doing yard work.

My body certainly agrees I worked hard yesterday. Five hours into the yard work, I called it quits, took a shower and a Tramadol and prayed that I could move today. And when Scout Son came downstairs for breakfast, I did get out of bed and stumble to the bike in the living room to read Getting Things Done while working out. Strength training is off the list for today. There’s no way. But the bike seemed reasonable. So did a couple of Advil and glucosamine.

Here’s the thing. I’ve worked out just about every day since I lost the day job. So can someone please explain to me why the scale is going in the wrong direction?

Yeah, I know. Water. Drink water. I am drinking water. I had 6 glasses yesterday, a cup of decaf, unsweetened hot tea and a V-8. I should be hydrated.

And I think I would be hydrated if I weren’t taking decongestants, pain killers and french fries. Do I see the problem? Of course I do. Dunkin Donuts is not conducive to losing weight, regardless of how many calories you’re burning. Neither is Wendy’s. It’s not like I planned those meals. OK, I totally planned the donuts. I was spending the morning with one of those happy government offices, I deserved a prize. After all, there was a fair chance it was going to be my last meal for about a week while I waited in line.

If it had been my last meal, I probably would have been OK. But several hours later, I stumbled out of their office, starving. What? Donuts have no nutrients? The latte had milk. So, of course I needed to get something to eat. Wendy’s has some nutritional value. There was protein. And fries. And salt.

Then there was St. Patrick’s Day. Yes, we have totally ruined it and the Irish are not happy with us. I don’t blame them. So yes, corned beef and cabbage and bangers and mash. And a couple of Guinness. But the mimosa was healthy.

Hmm, this was supposed to be a rant on power equipment and how poorly it’s designed. If the pressure washer had started I wouldn’t have spent five hours doing yard work. And burned a bazillion calories. Maybe if I drink a couple of gallons of water and flush out the salt and medications, I’ll see the benefits.

Tune in tomorrow and maybe I’ll write that rant about the inequity of right-handed power tools. After I have a donut.

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