Today's Weigh In

I'd like to say that I was good for Christmas, but I wasn't. I didn't keep track of points, and I ate what I wanted, when I wanted. It was wonderful. I knew that I'd pay the price, which I'm sure I will with my weigh in today, but really, the price I paid was how hard it was to get back on track. I'm still not on track with eating. I used most of my points yesterday on stupid sugar cookies I barely like. Thankfully, my husband had a late lunch, so my dinner consisted of carrots and a few pickles to quell my salt craving. And then I got on the treadmill for 45 minutes, which would have been great, except I was starving about an hour later, so I chowed down on Wheat Thins and Port Wine cheese. Didn't even keep track of how many, I just know it was waaaay too many.

So, my goal today is to be good. To make sensible choices. And then to weigh in this evening. If I weigh in now, I'll be discouraged for today, and I don't want to blow that. I have to get back on track.

Stay tuned...

Added 12/30/06 at 3:15pm: Oops, totally forgot to weigh in last night, so I weighed in today instead, full of all sorts of weekend feasting. Oh well. Here goes:


Weight change since your last recorded weight +0.4 lb
Total weight change to date -6.2 lb


So I gained weight. Not much, but still a step in the wrong direction. If my son takes a nap, I'll get on the treadmill. I'm having a hard time with the late night urges again, thanks to my Christmas binging. Ack.

Added 12/30/06 at 5:15 pm: I got on the treadmill after feeling like a lard butt, and weighed myself before I showered. I know it's water weight, but here's the thing: I don't care. I'm recording it and using it. So there.

My entry above will be corrected to:
Weight change since your last recorded weight -0.2 lb
Total weight change to date -6.8 lb

Ha. So there. It's still a loss, water or not, so I'm going with it!

The Audicity of Hope

Let me preface this by saying that I am in no way a political person. I vaguely know who our politicians are, and usually only when I am required to know so, like in a Presidential race or something along those lines. But it is not because I am disinterested. No, it is because I am disheartened and since the first time I voted at 18 years of age, I have not connected with a single politician that is out there.

When I was 18, I voted because it was a privilege as an American Citizen, and I was proud that I finally could. I voted Democrat, because my parents had always voted Republican, and I knew that I did not hold most of the same beliefs about personal rights as they did. I voted at college, where everywhere you turned, someone was handing you a VOTE! button or pamphlet or whatever, and it was the "cool" thing to do. I have not voted in a single election since.

I have been chastised by many when I tell people this, as they gasp in horror at my flat out refusal to exercise this certain inalienable right, but let me explain. Since I could understand what it meant to be an American Citizen, and since I could make some sense of the bits and pieces I have learned throughout the years about our electoral process, I have firmly believed that in order for me to endorse a certain human being, a certain candidate, a certain American Citizen to represent ME and what I believe in, I have not found one that even remotely covers the bases. Not one.

Maybe it's because every politician gets up on their podium and preaches what they think I want to hear. Maybe it's because every politician has a smug confidence about them that screams LIAR! Maybe it's because, no matter who is up there, it is conservative vs. liberal, Republican vs. Democrat, Good vs. Evil, Right vs. Wrong. Any hope I have in finding someone to represent me gets lost in the he said/she said crap that sums up the final moments of any election in my voting years. I don't buy any of it. I want someone to stand up there, tell it how it is, how it has to be, simply state "I don't know, but we'll figure it out because we have to", and not only appear to be a decent human being, but to actually BE one.

Being from Illinois, I'm sure I am inundated a bit more with the golden boy of politics right now, Barack Obama. He's everywhere right now, a Presidential hopeful, a family man, a nice guy, a seemingly real person. He's a newbie in Washington, which helps him in more ways than it hinders him. And I am intrigued. Completely smitten. And, shall I even suggest, hopeful.

I'm reading Mr. Obama's latest book, The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts On Reclaiming The American Dream, and though I have barely made a dent in it, I find myself with dog-eared pages where something he said simply grabbed me, motivated me, made me nod my head. I've read and re-read several paragraphs, not only because the man is highly intelligent, but because I can hardly believe a politician can still see the world of the common man so clearly. I want him to run for President, I want him to save us from ourselves, to restore the world's awe of America, or even more simply, to represent our country and not make us look like complete idiots.

"The gap between what we deem appropriate behavior in everyday life and what it takes to win a campaign is just one of the ways in which a politician's values are tested. In few other professions are you required, each and every day, to weigh so many competing claims--between different sets of constituents, between the interests of your state and the interests of the nation, between party loyalty and your own sense of independence, between the value of service and obligations to your family. There is a constant danger, in the cacophony of voices, that a politician loses his moral bearings and finds himself entirely steered by the winds of public opinion.

Perhaps this explains why we long for that most elusive quality in our leaders--the quality of authenticity, of being who you say you are, of possessing a truthfulness that goes beyond words."

Is it possible for a man who seems to understand to NOT become jaded and bought out while in Washington? Is it possible that he can steer himself in the right direction, which is the opposite of all those who have gone before him? And if he can, can he win? I, for one, certainly hope he is all that he appears, and when the time comes, he will be sworn in as President of the United States. He will have my vote, because instead of talking and talking and talking when he is with the common people, the core people, of this country, it appears he is actually listening to what they have to say.

"Maybe the critics are right. Maybe there's no escaping our great political divide, an endless clash of armies, and any attempts to alter the rules of engagement are futile. Or maybe the trivialization of politics has reached a point of no return, so that most people see it as just one more diversion, a sport, with politicians our paunch-bellied gladiators and those who bother to pay attention just fans on the sidelines.: We paint our faces red or blue and cheer our side, and if it takes a late hit or cheap shot to beat the other team, so be it, for winning is all that matters.

But I don't think so. They are out there, I think to myself, those ordinary citizens who have grown up in the midst of all the political and cultural battles, but who have found a way--in their own lives, at least--to make peace with their neighbors, and themselves....I imagine they are waiting for a politics with the maturity to balance idealism and realism, to distinguish bewteen what can and cannot be compromised, to admit the possibility that the other side might sometimes have a point. They don't always understand the arguments between left and right, conservative and liberal, but htey recognize the difference between dogma and common sense, responsibility and irresponsibility, between those things that last and those that are fleeting.


They are out there, waiting for Republicans and Democrats to catch up with them."

It's The People You Know

Another college story:

My last summer at college, a very talented singer/songwriter named Robynn Ragland moved into my friend Paul's house. She was an up-and-coming, with such honors under her belt as playing at Lilith Fair, opening for the Paula Cole Band, and other various accolades. To top it off, she was nice and real and had actual talent. We hung out with Paul's cows and drove to St. Louis to watch her open for Paula Cole. We drank beer under the stars and stared in awe at all the dead ladybugs that were in her bathroom after Paul fumigated the house. A real person with real talent. She's still singing, still waiting for that big break, though she's been on local radio in St. Louis a lot. I dug out her cd over the weekend, and had forgotten just how REALLY good it is. My fave song is "People You Know". The lyrics are amazing, the tune is incredible. I invite you to take a look at her website and order her cd. You won't be disappointed. But for a sneak peek, here's the lyrics:

PEOPLE YOU KNOW
Words & Music by Robynn Ragland

Found myself thinking about you today
When I conjured your classic expression
Nobody noticed me wearing it,
So I went on like it was mine

At some point I heard the word "time" slip out
With a thick southern drawl like my girlfriend's
Then I watched as my hands began talking like mom,
And I really started freaking out

Isn't it odd? Take you and me -
We're two little ants in one giant community
But whether it's fate, or proximity
You're one of my people, the people I'm into - I miss you - yeah, I feel akin to you

Remember that guy at your job who got fired
When he slept with the boss' ex-wife?
He wound up in bed with your roommate's old girlfriend
Well, anyway, he said tell you "hi"

Isn't it odd? Take you and me -
You carry around a big chunk of my history
And I didn't know I was behind the doors
'Till you called and the closet cracked open- 'cause you could see who I was

It's the people you know, the people who knew you
And wherever you go, they're the ones who get to you
They get in your head - in your dreams - in your soul
They're the people, the people, the people you know

I thought I'd flash back to my college days
And give his old number a call
I know he'd Thank God We're both Doing Fine
It's history, but he's in my mind
Oh, I've long moved away but those days wrote a book in my life ...

It's the people you know, the people who knew you
And the ones you let go, and the ones you let screw you
They get in your bed - in your dreams - in your soul
They're the ones you read up on when you check out the horoscopes
of people you know, and the people who love you
And the ones who you loved, they're forever a part of you now
In spite of the millions and billions you don't
It's the people, the people, the people you know

A Rambling On Horses

My last semester at college was a summer semester. I had the choice of walking with the graduating class of 1998 and finishing the 3 semester hours I had left in the summer, or waiting until 1999 to graduate and pay to take a bunch of classes I didn't need or pay to take 3 hours in the fall. Either way, I was graduating in 3 years, so I went with the summer class. I had just bought my first horse the summer before, and had been offered free room and board at the farmhouse where I boarded my horse in exchange for running the place while the family went on a week long trip at the end of the summer. I was ecstatic. I was the first person that they had ever trusted their business to, at least enough to go cross country for a week, and I was only 20 years old. But in a way, I was used to that sort of priority. After all, horses were the ones that had taught me more than college or the real world ever could.

From junior high through college, I worked summers as a stable hand at a local hunter/jumper barn. I was the typical kid growing up who loved horses, but whose parents had enough money to pay the bills and that was about it. They splurged on riding lessons once a week at the tune of $15 a pop, and dropped me off at the barn every Sunday for an entire day of slave labor, in hopes that I would get to ride a horse for a second time that week. I learned how to work hard, not complain, get dirty, and do what I was told no matter what the demand was- and I learned to ride. Some would say I rode well, but that wasn't the point. I couldn't afford to go to horse shows unless I worked them at the same time- imagine running a marathon and being in charge of handing out the water to the other runners at the same time- it just doesn't work. I was tipped well by the "rich" people whose boots I shined, whose horses I tacked up for the ring, whose stalls were spotless, and who got to simply step off their horse when they were done and go change their clothes. I would save that sweat equity money, and in the last weekend of every fall, I would go to a show as a rider, not a "barn girl". And what I loved at each and every one of these shows was that I won.

Now, I could care less about the ribbons, though they were nice. I could care less about my name on the loudspeaker shouting that I was Champion or Reserve Champion. And I could care less about the applause and the pats on the back. But what I LOVED about winning was that I did it on a borrowed horse with my own money against spoiled little kids who rode horses worth $100K (and they rode them every stinkin' day). What I LOVED about winning was that, by the last class, people stopped to watch because they couldn't figure out where I had come from, this kid in cheap boots and a borrowed saddle, who was beating the snot out of their $100K horses and their thousands of dollars worth of riding lessons for their kid. I loved the fact that all my hard work was worth it. It didn't matter that no one would remember my name by the end of the next summer, when I was able to show again.

My favorite story was from one of the last shows I rode in. It was the last show of the summer, and I borrowed a sale horse that I would have given my left arm to have. This horse and I just knew each other. If I thought go left, we went left. If I thought slow, we slowed. It was amazing and wonderful and incredibly breath-taking. So I went to this show on my borrowed horse, a bargain horse priced at $35K, and we went in to the ring 11 times that weekend, and never placed lower than third. We were Champion twice, and by Sunday, one of the biggest trainers in the area with one of the winningest riders came over to my trainer and asked to borrow me. It seemed his winningest rider had a problem- two horses trying to qualify for finals in the same class. He needed an extra rider. Me. Me! A no-name from no-where, without a horse of her own, with a borrowed saddle and $5 in her pocket, was going to sit on (and show!) the number one horse in the state. Number one. And when this trainer hoisted me into the saddle, he simply slapped my boot before leading me to the ring and said, "Don't lose."

My trainer couldn't watch. I couldn't breathe. All I could think was Don't Lose! Don't Lose! I don't remember much of the class, nor do I remember lining up to receive ribbons. But I do remember hearing my name mentioned as second place... oh fuck! I lost! Until I heard that first place went to the girl who was trying to get her other horse to finals. Oh Thank God! I lost to her and her other horse! Incredible - Her horses were first and second places. Whew. I remember hitting the ground after jumping down from that enormous sculpture of a horse, getting a pat on the back from someone, and floating back to my trainer, who had her hands over her ears and her eyes shut as I walked up. She squeaked, "Who won?" and I smiled when I told her. I had just rode the number one horse in that state and had come in second- to the girl who I should have come in second to. My trainer was proud. So was I.

My second favorite story involves the love of my life, Skeeter. He was a school horse, meaning all he did was teach people how to ride, but for some reason, he loved me. I loved him. We had lots of fun together. One year, when I made it to the show finals, my borrowed show horse was sold out from under me last minute, so I took Skeeter instead. This horse was pushing 20, hadn't been in a show ring in at least 5 years, but we still managed to get a ribbon in every class. Then, during a different smaller show that was just for people that rode at our barn, I rode Skeeter again. I rode Skeeter against all the boarders expensive horses, always with the odds against us. We walked into the ring, we jumped our course, and we won. My trainer came over to me and said, "Though I shouldn't have wanted my 25 year old school horse and my one student without a horse to win, I'm damn glad you did. At least you showed them how it should be done!" I've never been prouder. Skeeter died when I went to college. He was running around the pasture with his buddies, and died while galloping like a 2 year old. He was pushing 30. I still have his halter to remember him by, though I don't need it.

I bought my first horse the summer after Skeeter died, a spitting image of Skeeter, minus the little star on his head. He's taught me a lot about life, too, but mostly he reminds me of everything horses taught me growing up. That money doesn't make you a good person (or a good rider), that hard work can get you further than brown-nosing and money-grubbing, that sometimes the underdog DOES win, and that if you love something enough, there isn't a thing in the world that can stop you from achieving what it is you want. I wish more things in life taught as clearly as Skeeter or as pointedly as boot-shining and stall-cleaning did, but the fact is, if you want it bad enough, you can get it. You just have to be able to find the lessons and learn from them.

Weigh In

Today, I stared at plates full of the yummiest cookies ever, and ate an apple. Yes sir, I sat at a bake sale for over 4 hours and didn't touch anything but a WW Mint Patty and an apple. Of course, I got home and had 2 cookies and a Rice Krispies Treat, but that was my breakfast and my lunch, and the main point is, I didn't feel like I was being deprived or that I needed to come home and eat an ENTIRE PLATE of anything. Because right now, in my kitchen, are over 15 batches of yummy stuff for the bake sale tomorrow. And I don't want to eat any of it.

Having cookies in my kitchen and not feeling like I absolutely need to eat them? Mark that on the calendar! So without further adieu...

This week's weigh in (one day late because I worked my ass of yesterday and collapsed in a heap into bed after midnight without remembering it was weigh in day...)

This week: -1.6 lbs!
Total loss: -5.8 lbs.

Or, as WW likes to illustrate, I have lost a sack of potatoes, and just a smidge more.

Weigh In

Ok, here goes.

Total weight loss this week: -.4 lbs.
Total weight loss to date: -4.8 lbs.

Well, not great, but not terrible, since today is weigh-in day and I am bloated to high heaven thanks to PMS. If not for PMS, I'm pretty sure I'd have one less pound of water weight, and I plan to prove it to you next week. The fact that I can't take my wedding ring off today makes me feel better about the weigh in, and it's still a loss, though a small one. Damn PMS.

And I ate broccoli instead of french fries. I promised myself that, if nothing else, that would be my success this week. So I am .4 pounds lighter today, and I have not had french fries in 3 weeks.

TA-DA!

Do You Want Broccoli With That?

This post is simply a pat on the back for myself.

Last night, after a night of furniture and carpet shopping where we got hardly anything accomplished, we went to T.G.I. Friday's for dinner. At 9pm. I was starving.

My downfall at Friday's is that I HAVE to have their chicken fingers with fries and extra honey mustard- can anyone see why I'm fat? But last night I ordered (drum roll please!)...

A cheeseburger with a side of broccoli. And I only at 3/4 of the burger. And most of my broccoli. And I topped it off with a Diet Coke.

I may have gone over my points for the day, but in the realm of fast food restaurant eating, it wasn't terrible. And I ate broccoli instead of french fries. No matter what my weigh in is on Friday, I'm going to consider that the success of the week.

Nuh Uh!

Our kid is undeniably adorable. I know every parent says that, but it's one of those defense mechanisms that is needed for every human to WANT to procreate more than once. It's one of the things that gets you through the tantrums, the late nights, the long days. And let's face it, few things melt the heart of a jaded adult, but this kid has got heart-melting covered.

For lack of concentration, here's a list of the latest cute-isms Little E has been spouting:

If you ask him a question, like "do you want more milk?" "No, not yet" or my favorite, NUH UHHH!
If Payton, our dog, steals some of his food off the table, he no longer says "No NO RaRa!", but now simply states in the most official of tones, "Payton, You A Bad Dog."
He'll turn on lights, take my pony tail holder out of my hair, rearrange stuff on the counter, and whenever he changes something, he asks, "There! Is that better?" or simply states, "There. That's better."
If you are in his way, it's simply "YOU GO AWAY!" Of course, on the path to manners, he is reminded of what he should really say, and then it becomes "Scooz Me Peas". Too freakin' cute.
And lastly, his new thing: if I'm on the phone, he simply repeats over and over "YOU PUT IT BAAACK" Until I have hung up the phone.
Oh, and yesterday, for no apparent reason other than self-amusement, he coutnted to 12 in Spanish while taking a bath. I had no idea he could count in Spanish at all. Turns out, he watched Baby Einstein Numbers with dad over the weekend and picked it up. Sweet. I was impressed he count to 50 by himself already, but picking up a foreign language by watching a dvd? Awesome.

People without a two year old may think these things are not so adorable, but when you do it all in that little people voice with the confidence of someone at least 5 times his age, you can't help but grin at this little man, who feels the needs to rule the world, or at least the house. I can't help but love him to pieces, and am proud of him each and every day.

I Ate My House

After 12 days on Weight Watchers, I finally cracked. I ate my house.

After 12 days of being good, counting points, weighing in, and making excruciatingly painful food decisions, I fell off the bandwagon.

I feel terrible. And full.

Oh, and I only went over my daily point allowance by 5 points. And I've barely touched my weekly allowance, so even though I went and ate the whole house, I'm still good for the week. How is this possible? How?

Maybe my stomach is adjusting. Maybe I'm craving better things. Maybe I just got lucky. But man, did it feel like I ate everything in site. But I wanted cheese and thought That's 3 points, what a waste. I should eat some pretzels with cream cheese instead. Yum.

Tomorrow and Sunday will be hard, because my husband is home, and he is a bad influence. He could use a little WW himself, but I don't push. He just has to eat the dinner I make, and that will have to be a good start. But I think I'm done eating everything in site. It was a good binge. I needed it. But hopefully now, I'm done.

Oh What Fun!

How long does it take one to dress one adult and one two year old to go play out in the snow? I'll give you a hint. The same amount of time that you will play outside.

Yep, it took us 20 minutes to get dressed up in boots, snow pants, and other snow paraphanelia, mainly because explaining gloves to a toddler is like explaining calculus. If they will not open their fingers, the gloves will not work. Will not. So then we switch to mittens, thinking a thumb was something easier to explain, and we wore mittens all last year, but when the thumb is separated from the herd of fingers, something happened in toddler land that made said toddler NOT WANT TO WEAR ANYTHING ON HIS HANDS.

So we went outside, me with gloves, him without, and I let him touch the snow. Let him figure out why we wear the damn fuzzy things on our hands. And when he touched the snow for the third time and held his hands out to me and said "my haans are coooold!", it was a sweet victory. Now we could really get to playing!

But if you've ever outfitted a toddler in new boots, new snow pants, and topped it off with a puffy jacket and a ski hat, you just don't get very far in this winter wonderland. We made it, oh, about 8 steps away from the deck. We played in a 6' x 6' patch of snow, and it was fun, and fine, and totally unnecessary to get out the sled, but used it anyway. And took pictures. Tons of pictures.

And after a whole 20 minutes of snow-packed fun, it was time for hot chocolate and sock drying, even though our socks were dry already (good boots, you know!). But it was the first snow of the year, and we got out there and played. Hard. For 20 minutes. I don't think a first snow could be more fun.