CarbFest 2005 - We Will Miss you

Carbfest 2005 has come to an end. South Beach has begun. I'm actually looking forward to some healthy eating. I had a final carb binge last night (a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich and chips) but today the health program has begun. I'm hoping to shed anywhere from 5-10 pounds and, of course, to keep it off.

So my scale this morning read 124. I wish. Our scale is at least 6 pounds under, maybe even eight. Plus, it has an annoying habit of reading different numbers even if you step on it three times in a row or, God forbid, move it to a different place on the floor. If I'm in the center of the bathroom, I weigh 130. If I place the scale behind the door, I weigh 124. Needless to say, I weigh myself behind the door.

But we'll just 124 simply as a base to see if anything happens. The hardest part for me, I think, will be forgoing my mochas. How can I be expected to drive into town and sit down and write anything without my happy steaming mocha by my side? Hot tea just isn't the same, but it will have to do, at least for a few weeks.

I am also (drumroll, please) going to actually eat chicken on this diet. Organic, free-range, I-can't-believe-I'm-paying-this-much-for-chicken chicken, but chicken. It's been 7-8 years since I've eaten chicken. But since I don't eat red meat, I'm running out of things to eat on this diet. I can only substitute a soy burger so many times before it gets boring. So I'll try the chicken and see how it goes. I'm not even looking forward to it. Not even sure I'll be able to eat it. We'll see.

A side note. I "discovered" the most fantastic cleaning tool yesterday. Mr. Clean's Magic Erase Bar. It truly is magical. This wondrous bar got rid of all the marks on our walls in about 3 minutes, saving me at least an hour's worth of touch-up paint time. Blair had brought a box of the bars home a month ago and we finally got around to trying them. I am a convert, ready now to push them on everyone I know. These bars simply kick ass.

Much to do today. Meeting with my illustrator, errands to run, articles to draft, and I'm teaching tonight. Then of course, the playoffs tonight. I'm actually interested in a sport. Imagine that. Go NC!

7-year-old boys

Yes, it's the post my best friend is dreading. Just came back from 3 days in Atlanta spent with her and her 7-year-old son, Max. Now it's time for the review.

Relax, Trish. It's not that bad. Max is actually (contrary to all my previously held beliefs about 7-year-old boys) a good kid. Part of this could be from fear though. Trisha told me that before she and Max flew to Atlanta to meet me she told him he better be good because "Aunt Dena doesn't like kids."

Nice.

So instead of nitpicking the week, I've instead decided to take the high road (or the slightly higher road) and post a list of the top 10 things I've learned about 7-year-old boys. I offer it here in the hopes of educating those who come after me.

Top 10 Things I've Learned About 7-Year-Old Boys

1. Sitting still is not an option
2. No price can be put on the entertainment value of an indoor hotel swimming pool
3. Louder is better
4. They like to pee with the door open and sometimes forget to flush
5. Vegetables will only be eaten by negotiation
6. "In your face!" is a favorite phrase. (Apparently it's the phrase and not the implication behind the phrase that's so fun, though. When I told Max to brush his teeth, the response was an enthusiastic, "Oh man, in my face!"
7. Video games rule and I will never, under any circumstances, be able to beat a 7-year-old at even the most rudimentary of video games
8. Anything involving tumbling, throwing, growling, jumping, or pushing is always fun
9. They can be going a hundred miles an hour and suddenly, with no warning, be asleep
10. When the mood strikes, they can eat enough in one sitting to feed a small Chinese city for a month

There were even, I'm willing to admit, some warm fuzzy moments. Like when we went out for a late dinner and Max, tired and a little whiny, leaned into me and rested his head on my shoulder for a brief nap. (melt, melt, melt).

There were also moments of sheer terror. Like when we were waiting to be seated at said restaurant and Trisha was in the ladies room. Out of the blue, Max turned to me and asked, "The Easter Bunny is real, right?"

Calm down. I'm not that much of an orge. I assured him said Bunny is most assuredly real and the friend who told him it wasn't is full of it and probably needs mental rest and rehabilitation. Seemed to do the trick.

Okay, fine. I still have a little work to do before I get this whole child thing down. But at least I'm trying.

- Aunt Dena

No More Chocolate

I am ill. I have made myself ill eating chocolate. Two straight days of nothing but sugar and my body is give out. I'm going to Atlanta for 3 days this week and the Monday I get back (b/c all diets must start on Mondays, never on Saturday or Sundays) I am starting the South Beach diet.

I did it once with success. Lost about 5 lbs in the first two weeks and felt MUCH better in general. Discovered I actually liked eating meals I prepared versus shoving in my mouth whatever was closest in the pantry closet (although that has its advantages). But I got lax about preparing food. I'm hoping my husband will agree to South Beach with me and we can prepare foods together although, if this weekend is any indication, we don't see eye to eye in the kitchen.

Nothing is ever said outright. It's all subliminal. Here's an example of a true scene, with an italicized "what really happened" explanation.

Blair found a recipe for scalloped potatoes. I sliced the onions and then moved to the side to prepare something else. He layered the potatoes in the pan and then the recipe called for the onions to be placed on top. Blair picks up three, no more than 4 onion slices at a time and places them on a potato. At this rate, it will take him 10 minutes to layer the onions. It's all I can do not to reach over, grab a handful of onions, toss them on the potatoes and be done with it. Instead, I make polite conversation.

Me: "What are you doing?" (You're doing it wrong).

Him: "Putting the onions on." (Shut up. I'm doing it my way.)

Me: "Oh." (Your way sucks.)

Pause.

Me: "Need any help?" (My way is infinently superior to yours and I'm dying to prove it)

Him: "No, thanks, I'm okay." (Get bent)

Me: "Okay, if you're sure." (Get bent, back).

It's called passive-aggressive and has saved many a marriage. Try it. It works.

Easter Egg Hunt

We have a Sunday morning tradition. We're up early, around 6, and it's my husband's job to go out in the freezing cold and walk several blocks to buy the bulky Sunday paper, then bring it home. My job is to start the coffee, open the blinds, and put on classical music. (Yes, I realize I have the better end of this deal).

This Easter morning, as I was sorting through CD's, I noticed a green plastic egg on the shelf. I picked it up and shook it. Something was inside. Twisting it open, 3 small chocolate eggs fell out. Grinning, I went to start the coffee. As I opened the cupboard, another egg, this one purple, fell out. More chocolate inside.

My husband came back from getting the paper.

"Thank you for the chocolate," I said hugging him.

"What? Not me, Easter Bunny," he said, kissing me. He looked at our tuxedo cat, Lucy. "Did you see the Easter Bunny, Lucy?" Using his high-pitched "cat" voice, he answered for her. "Yes! He was here and here and then he put more eggs here, and then I ate him."

I smacked him, laughing.

I've only found 3 eggs so far (and am buzzing - 3 chocolate candy pieces per egg x 3 eggs = 9 pieces of chocolate before 7am this morning), but I'm guessing there's more. I'm putting off looking b/c I'm sure I'll gobble the pieces down.

Here's a tip for you parents out there. Rehide your kids candy. My dad used to do this. It would be two days after Easter and we'd be eating dinner when I'd shout, "There's a candy bar on top of the mantle."

"How 'bout that," my dad would answer. "You must have missed that before."

He'd do this for the next 5 days, hiding a Hershey's kiss in a plant, an egg behind a chair, and I'd think I was getting all this new candy, never realizing it was the stuff I'd already found, recycled.

We're having a rather non-traditional Easter meal. Blair was going to make a ham but couldn't find one under 4 lbs and I don't eat meat and he knew he'd never finish all that ham so he's making a small meatloaf instead. I'm having salmon. There will be potatoes and green beans though - some traditions are non-negotiable.

Happy Easter to everyone.