- I squat down this morning in front of the little fridge in our department at work to put in my leftover sushi: *RIP* goes the seam in my jeans along my inner right thigh. Long rip. Mom told me to buy new jeans like seven months ago. Yeah. Whatever.
- I borrow safety pins from a pal on the other side of the building and nearly mangle myself in the bathroom trying to shove pins through a seam and some shredded fabric.
- The fix is better than nothing, especially after I trim away all the little straggly fabric shreds so it doesn't look like I am walking about with a Persian cat clinging to my inner thigh. And I know what jeans I want, and they cannot be purchased anywhere near the office, so THAT'S why I didn't go buy new ones, for those of you who are asking.
- Day mostly goes fine, though I can't recall if during an hour-long presentation I made if I stood in a ladylike manner or not to try to hide my safety pin surgery, especially since one of the pins had to go on the outside of the pants. Probably not: I usually stand like a bear wrestler, especially when I start to wax rhapsodic for a new, captive audience about the work we do. Ces't la vie.
- I leave the office at the end of day, going back and forth in my mind about what to do about dinner. Obviously, no Stef at home to cook tonight. I decide to run into Fred Meyer and grab some hummus and one of those handy, cooked whole chickens. I tour part of the store, grab cherries and a couple pink grapefruit, one red garnet yam, a container of hummus, and toward the chickens I head, then I'll be right next to the registers and away I can go.
- There are three chickies left. I have my hand-carry basket in one hand and reach for the chicken with the other. Just as I go to set it in the basket, the plastic dome pops off, the plastic base bends and caves, and there is a simultaneous drop of chicken and plastic into the basket and a shower all over my feet and the floor...grease from the container gushing over the basket and through it.
- I stand stupefied for a moment, wondering what wet thing was in my basket before it dawns on me that I just had a chicken grease hosing. I try to at least rectify the tilting, dripping chicken in my basket, and I get the experience of trying to grab a greased baby from its crib...no doing. I am looking about for bags, towels, something to do something, I don't even know what. I finally set the basket on the floor by the chicken case and walk to the self-checkout and look pleadingly at an employee who is approaching. "I need help, please," I tell her. She follows me and I show her my giant grease slick and explain myself. She says it's no problem and heads off to find someone, but is intercepted by that terrible alarm that happens when you try to leave the self-checkout area and you have something that has a security alarm in it, so she is waylaid rescuing some man who probably was not trying to shoplift, but gets the same alarm as the bad guys do. Poor man.
- I stand there for several more minutes, grateful that you can't see the grease spill like you could if it were chocolate milk or orange juice, but still aware that NO ONE hovers around the chicken case like this. Especially no one who keeps looking at the grease splatters on her tennis shoes while an escaped, dripping chicken lies atop grapefruit and hummus in her little basket. Trying to look slightly less tacky, I figure I should at least pick up the basket off the floor. I, that's right, forget the challenge of my pants from hours before, and I again assume the squat position in order to pick up the basket. What do I hear again, raging against the safety pins? *RIP*. I leap up in a panic, as though the safety pins have already blown their "safety" promise and suddenly become not-so-safe.
- Nice lady finally comes back and sets up a yellow "stay away" triangle on the floor, and she looks in my basket and says, "Okay, that's the chicken that fell on the floor?" as she is reaching for it. I tell her it only fell in my basket, and we have a quick exchange, with me saying I can still take it, and I feel badly, and she points out, no, no, it's fine, they'll take it. She goes to take it out of the basket and replicates my greased baby experience, with a few "whoa" moments of her own, but eventually decides she will win, grabs hard and takes it away. In the interim I smile at a nice lady with a cart and a small child in the front; she gives me the "been there, done that" chuckle. Employee lady returns quickly and I ask if there are paper towels anywhere, because my hands are an oil slick by now; she sends me to her counter. I come back, and she has given me a new basket and placed the fairly ungreased cherries and grapefruit in it, but has the dripping, lemon-pepper-grease-coated yam and hummus in the other hand. "You don't want these, do you?" I again say I am willing to pay for them, but she says, no, go get new ones. She is nice. I consider kissing her and decide I have already shot my weirdo points for the day. Instead I tell her I am headed to the deli to buy just one piece of chicken; it seems less dangerous. She laughs at me.
- I try to gather myself, and I go get one chicken breast, more hummus from the first spot I got it, and I check out some rice crackers and some organic cereal. I wind up near the cold case with a bunch of organic stuff in it. I look at some hummus they have in there and note the just over 2x price difference, and I also check out some soy cream cheese and sour cream, and decide not today. I figure my heart has calmed enough and they are far enough along in the clean up that I can just head out. So to the check stand I go.
- The drive home is safe (I decide to skip the Starbucks stop I was planning for some herbal tea--I just need to be DONE and get my tennis shoes in the washing machine and my pants into the trash) and I am already pondering posting about my clumsiness. I get home, get everything from work and the store into the house, and start to unload the two bags from Freddy's. And what's in there? BOTH freaking containers of hummus! The regular AND the organic! What the...? Clearly, I need to stay in for the rest of the evening. I am a danger to myself and others and chickens and chickpeas everywhere!
Friday, July 10, 2009
Chickens and Chickpeas
Markers in the day that eventually said, "GO HOME! NOW!"
Sunday, July 05, 2009
I Like That Boom Boom Pow
There are some things that still bring culture shock in Idaho. The Fourth of July is one of them.
You know those movies where almost every family on a quaint American street is lighting sparklers to celebrate the Fourth? Well, add fountains, flowers, and real, fly-into-the-air-and-burst-above-your-head-like-a-Dodger's-fireworks-show chrysanthemums, peonies, glitter palms, and rings, you have Idaho on our nation's Independence Day. (By the way, cool site for looking up firework names at NOVA: Name that Shell.)
Apparently there are actually county ordinances against such aerial fireworks outside of an official display, but you would never know it. I confess, it scares me a little, having been raised where just the sound of a firecracker was the signal to start packing for a forest fire evacuation, but I mostly giggle though the night up here.
I sat in the picturesque backyard of friends last night, having great food (including a s'more with a marshmallow perfectly toasted over their fire pit by Master Toaster Karin; never mind that I dropped the chocolate in the dirt while I was trying to catch the mallow on my graham; wipe the chocolate square on your jeans and you're good to go) and good conversation. Even while it's light out, there are the sounds of firecrackers pop-popping from the neighbors around us. As dusk arrives, the shows start. Yes, shows, as in if you stand in the front yard or sit on the back deck, you can look in the sky any direction you like and watch fireworks explode.
If you do choose to watch from the front of the house where you can see the streets and driveways nearby, you get the ground shows and the aerial shows together. Little kids running around with giant sparklers, fountains erupting, and the bigger kids and grown-ups lighting everything else.
I left the house just after 11:00 PM, and I giggled all the way home. Okay, maybe not all the way. Trying to get out of the subdivision was a little tricky. Literally every other driveway was filled with families in lawn chairs, people taking turns lighting stuff in the street. Thus, there were piles of ash to navigate, small children to avoid mowing down, and my favorite: a newly-lit, skittering flower placed in the road seconds before my car approached. Rather than have the little thing scoot under my car as I tried to drive past, I waited in the road until it died out and the kids scrambled to light another one.
The giggling did happen, though, for the remainder of the drive home, as I scanned the sky and watched happy explosions all over the place. The 30-minute drive was a hazy one, driving through all the post-firework smoke. It was like a fog had settled over the whole Treasure Valley for the evening.
At midnight, in went the earplugs for nighty-night, since it was still pretty boom-boom-pow outside. I gotta say, I like it here :)
You know those movies where almost every family on a quaint American street is lighting sparklers to celebrate the Fourth? Well, add fountains, flowers, and real, fly-into-the-air-and-burst-above-your-head-like-a-Dodger's-fireworks-show chrysanthemums, peonies, glitter palms, and rings, you have Idaho on our nation's Independence Day. (By the way, cool site for looking up firework names at NOVA: Name that Shell.)
Apparently there are actually county ordinances against such aerial fireworks outside of an official display, but you would never know it. I confess, it scares me a little, having been raised where just the sound of a firecracker was the signal to start packing for a forest fire evacuation, but I mostly giggle though the night up here.
I sat in the picturesque backyard of friends last night, having great food (including a s'more with a marshmallow perfectly toasted over their fire pit by Master Toaster Karin; never mind that I dropped the chocolate in the dirt while I was trying to catch the mallow on my graham; wipe the chocolate square on your jeans and you're good to go) and good conversation. Even while it's light out, there are the sounds of firecrackers pop-popping from the neighbors around us. As dusk arrives, the shows start. Yes, shows, as in if you stand in the front yard or sit on the back deck, you can look in the sky any direction you like and watch fireworks explode.
If you do choose to watch from the front of the house where you can see the streets and driveways nearby, you get the ground shows and the aerial shows together. Little kids running around with giant sparklers, fountains erupting, and the bigger kids and grown-ups lighting everything else.
I left the house just after 11:00 PM, and I giggled all the way home. Okay, maybe not all the way. Trying to get out of the subdivision was a little tricky. Literally every other driveway was filled with families in lawn chairs, people taking turns lighting stuff in the street. Thus, there were piles of ash to navigate, small children to avoid mowing down, and my favorite: a newly-lit, skittering flower placed in the road seconds before my car approached. Rather than have the little thing scoot under my car as I tried to drive past, I waited in the road until it died out and the kids scrambled to light another one.
The giggling did happen, though, for the remainder of the drive home, as I scanned the sky and watched happy explosions all over the place. The 30-minute drive was a hazy one, driving through all the post-firework smoke. It was like a fog had settled over the whole Treasure Valley for the evening.
At midnight, in went the earplugs for nighty-night, since it was still pretty boom-boom-pow outside. I gotta say, I like it here :)
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Shifting the Weight
It's been a couple weeks of navigating tough things. Not tough things that are directly in my own life, but the challenges and heartbreaks and sadness of others. From people losing children to dark valleys in marriages to depression to hopelessness to people out of work to divorces to financial crises, about every day and a half or so a new weight on behalf of someone I care about deeply has come along. It has felt a bit surreal because, honestly, my life is a relative sea of calm at the moment. It isn't always like that, but it is for the moment.
I am taking the quiet in my life to pray and carry to the throne regularly these dear people I love. Each person that has been transparent with me has felt like a gift I was entrusted with by God to bring before him, seeking his healing and touch. The operative word in that last sentence would be "his".
Kathie's typical modus operandi: I am such a little fixer, helper, peacemaker. It comes from the part of me that likes the water smooth, that likes everyone happy and well. What can I do to make things better for you, eh? Of course, you want to be happy, but I want you to be happy, too, 'cause then I am happy. Get it?
Unfortunately, my M.O. tries to insert me into the middle of things I have no control over. I cannot make different decisions for people, heal deep hurts, bring extraordinary mercy, or provide inexplicable grace that allows people to navigate and even blossom in and after the worst things they can imagine actually happen to them.
And I cannot change the people around them, who love them so much, but, alas, often those closest to us understand us the least. I know I fall into this category sometimes, too. Well-intentioned people who want us to be safe and sane, who cannot always hear the way a so-not-safe-and-sane Jesus calls us to follow. And that following looks so very different from how our loved ones would do it.
I met with a man the other day who has an amazing story of how God has been calling, is calling, and is preparing the way for him to minister in India. He is a successful business owner. People he trusts and loves are saying things like, "But your business is what you're good at. God gave you success there. Why don't you just keep running your business and give to missions in India? Why don't you just use what God has given you already to fill this calling you feel?"
My heart broke when I heard him share this. I totally understand the concern, the hesitance, the struggle, from people you treasure and trust who do not hear a call the same way you do. And I can't find anything about God that calls us to follow in logical ways, so trying to explain to others what he whispers to you is so very hard. Can you picture each of the disciples explaining to their parents and employers the logical, safe, rational reasons that Jesus outlined to all of them when he called them to follow him?
I hope you can't, because from what I can see, no such thing happened.
He said, "Follow me." Not, "Follow my plan for you that will make sense to the world the moment you speak, the moment you act, the moment you demonstrate how you love me."
I cringe when I hear the phrase, "Why don't you just..."
God is not a god of just. Just enough provision, just enough hope, just enough grace, just so you feel comfortable, just so you aren't embarrassed, just so your loved ones aren't uncomfortable, just so everyone gets you.
He doesn't need people to get you. He longs for them to get Him. Watch for Him, see Him, need Him, be amazed by Him, be drawn to Him. To see in overabundance how he loves and provides for and cares for and transforms you. In ways that make no logical, safe, rational, outlined sense.
So, Kathie is praying, sympathizing, listening, but not fixing. And I pray that those people, those gifts of prayer needs that God has brought to me, are hearing, feeling, responding to the Spirit's call to not just follow, but to hurl the nets away and chase after Him in the draw of overabundance. And that the overabundance of love, healing, change, tenderness, reality, transparency, wholeness, and restoration touches sweetly all those people who observe the transformation in the ones they love.
I am taking the quiet in my life to pray and carry to the throne regularly these dear people I love. Each person that has been transparent with me has felt like a gift I was entrusted with by God to bring before him, seeking his healing and touch. The operative word in that last sentence would be "his".
Kathie's typical modus operandi: I am such a little fixer, helper, peacemaker. It comes from the part of me that likes the water smooth, that likes everyone happy and well. What can I do to make things better for you, eh? Of course, you want to be happy, but I want you to be happy, too, 'cause then I am happy. Get it?
Unfortunately, my M.O. tries to insert me into the middle of things I have no control over. I cannot make different decisions for people, heal deep hurts, bring extraordinary mercy, or provide inexplicable grace that allows people to navigate and even blossom in and after the worst things they can imagine actually happen to them.
And I cannot change the people around them, who love them so much, but, alas, often those closest to us understand us the least. I know I fall into this category sometimes, too. Well-intentioned people who want us to be safe and sane, who cannot always hear the way a so-not-safe-and-sane Jesus calls us to follow. And that following looks so very different from how our loved ones would do it.
I met with a man the other day who has an amazing story of how God has been calling, is calling, and is preparing the way for him to minister in India. He is a successful business owner. People he trusts and loves are saying things like, "But your business is what you're good at. God gave you success there. Why don't you just keep running your business and give to missions in India? Why don't you just use what God has given you already to fill this calling you feel?"
My heart broke when I heard him share this. I totally understand the concern, the hesitance, the struggle, from people you treasure and trust who do not hear a call the same way you do. And I can't find anything about God that calls us to follow in logical ways, so trying to explain to others what he whispers to you is so very hard. Can you picture each of the disciples explaining to their parents and employers the logical, safe, rational reasons that Jesus outlined to all of them when he called them to follow him?
I hope you can't, because from what I can see, no such thing happened.
He said, "Follow me." Not, "Follow my plan for you that will make sense to the world the moment you speak, the moment you act, the moment you demonstrate how you love me."
I cringe when I hear the phrase, "Why don't you just..."
God is not a god of just. Just enough provision, just enough hope, just enough grace, just so you feel comfortable, just so you aren't embarrassed, just so your loved ones aren't uncomfortable, just so everyone gets you.
He doesn't need people to get you. He longs for them to get Him. Watch for Him, see Him, need Him, be amazed by Him, be drawn to Him. To see in overabundance how he loves and provides for and cares for and transforms you. In ways that make no logical, safe, rational, outlined sense.
So, Kathie is praying, sympathizing, listening, but not fixing. And I pray that those people, those gifts of prayer needs that God has brought to me, are hearing, feeling, responding to the Spirit's call to not just follow, but to hurl the nets away and chase after Him in the draw of overabundance. And that the overabundance of love, healing, change, tenderness, reality, transparency, wholeness, and restoration touches sweetly all those people who observe the transformation in the ones they love.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Talk in Real Time
Seriously, I have writing I want to do. Crystal reminded me that it's good for the soul. I buy that.
But can I just say that it's been a treasure and a treat to have someone in the house to share dinner with (okay, eat the delicious dinner that they prepare and then bring my whack dish washing skills into play) and to talk with about good stuff? Talks with Stef are fun and insightful and warm.
I have been saying that if I had to share my house space again, it couldn't be with just anyone. It would have to be with someone who was more than a boarder, more than just another breathing presence.
I want to write, but for the moment I am using my evening time engaged in good laughter, music, tears, food, sweetness, and growth with a lovely housemate, who is so much more than just another body in the house. Stef is a blessing and a joy. So, thanks for the gift, Jesus.
Guess I'll have to start blogging from the office ;)
But can I just say that it's been a treasure and a treat to have someone in the house to share dinner with (okay, eat the delicious dinner that they prepare and then bring my whack dish washing skills into play) and to talk with about good stuff? Talks with Stef are fun and insightful and warm.
I have been saying that if I had to share my house space again, it couldn't be with just anyone. It would have to be with someone who was more than a boarder, more than just another breathing presence.
I want to write, but for the moment I am using my evening time engaged in good laughter, music, tears, food, sweetness, and growth with a lovely housemate, who is so much more than just another body in the house. Stef is a blessing and a joy. So, thanks for the gift, Jesus.
Guess I'll have to start blogging from the office ;)
Monday, June 22, 2009
Things to Bloggy About
I do have things to bloggity blog. Happy things. Challenging things. Rich things.
Like the brain explosion I had after church on Sunday. A good kind, but explosion still. Fortunately, my new housemate, Stefanie, was here to help me manage the verbal spewage. But I bet you would have liked it if I had written it down instead :)
So maybe on a weekday evening I could blog?
But in this season, there are outside demands that are not here in winter. Like roses to be trimmed. Weeds to be pulled. Hollyhocks to watch grow. And the sun is up until 10:00 PM to allow me to do it.
So until I make myself sit and write, here are flower pictures from the yard that Stef took last week. Awfully purty, no?
Like the brain explosion I had after church on Sunday. A good kind, but explosion still. Fortunately, my new housemate, Stefanie, was here to help me manage the verbal spewage. But I bet you would have liked it if I had written it down instead :)
So maybe on a weekday evening I could blog?
But in this season, there are outside demands that are not here in winter. Like roses to be trimmed. Weeds to be pulled. Hollyhocks to watch grow. And the sun is up until 10:00 PM to allow me to do it.
So until I make myself sit and write, here are flower pictures from the yard that Stef took last week. Awfully purty, no?
Friday, June 12, 2009
Australian Eye Candy Party
In our continuing quest for fun flicks and good food, a few weeks ago my pals and I arrived at our most recent movie event. The conversation leading up to the fun, over the course of several days and various gals, went something like this...
"What are we doing for our next movie night?"
"Wait, you haven't seen Kate and Leopold?"
"Wait, you haven't seen X-Men?"
"Okay, then it's definitely a Hugh Jackman movie night. Sigh...eye candy."
"That's it! Eye Candy Movie Party!"
"You know we can't just eat candy for dinner, right? We tried that with the Elf party..." *shiver*
"So what do we eat? What do X-Men eat?"
"Wait! Hugh Jackman is Australian. Australian food!"
Thus...Australian Eye Candy movie night. Mock us not. You know you are sad you weren't here and that you had not thought of this brilliant concept.
A few Saturdays later it all came together. Folks wound up arriving at various times, so those of us in the first wave needed to nibble on something before dinner got underway. Thus, Kathie cleaned out her pantry and fridge of whatever random things she had.
Since the randomness included hummus, bruschetta, chips and salsa, and margaritas (there were celery sticks and cheese slices floating around, too), we decided to dub it The World Tour Prior to Arriving in Australia Appetizer Event. After we traveled to the Mediterranean, Italy, and Mexico, this was the decimation:
Apparently Aussies love their grills, so we found recipes for Australian steak, Australian barbecued meatloaf, and, of course, we had to have some shrimp on the barbie.
We had Koala Salad, as you can see :)
Bonni made bread from the recipe used at Outback Steakhouse. Yes, we know that they just give things Australian names there; we didn't care. Bonni meant to make mini loaves. She brought the dough and left it to rise in my very warm upstairs bonus room. When she went up to fetch them for the oven, we heard a squeal, followed by, "Hey! They aren't mini loaves any more...they're giant!" Here's what they expanded to in all their enthusiastic rising:
Bread came out delicious, Karin got a few of us hooked on Vegemite (okay, I can say that I am hooked--yum!), plus we had good Aussie wine and ale. Feast!
Then...in all it's delightful beauty and deliciousness, our Australian dessert: pavlova, or "pav", homemade by Stef. Can I just say that I have never liked meringue, no matter who made it or how it was delivered? Until I tasted Stefanie's meringue. Oh. My. Goodness. Then fill it with strawberries, kiwis, mangos, and whipped cream with passion fruit juice. Ohhhhhhh...
Here's the better of the two crowd shots I remembered to take. Don't whine, girls. The other pic is worse, with many more mouths just inches above their plates :)
And how did we handle the Eye Candy part of the evening? Well, first Karin scoured the Treasure Valley for gummi eyeballs or little chocolate eyeballs. Apparently those are Halloween fare only. So, in desperation, I stood in an aisle in Walgreen's trying to find candy to match our theme. Here's what came together in a flash of brilliance:
Get it? EXtra Dark chocolate for X-Men and since Hugh comes from back in time in Kate and Leopold, we have old fashioned candy.
Told you it was brilliant :)
And did you see that cutie holding the pavlova, Stefanie? She's gonna be my new roomie for a little while starting tomorrow! Whoo-hoo! I finally landed a chef in the house!
"What are we doing for our next movie night?"
"Wait, you haven't seen Kate and Leopold?"
"Wait, you haven't seen X-Men?"
"Okay, then it's definitely a Hugh Jackman movie night. Sigh...eye candy."
"That's it! Eye Candy Movie Party!"
"You know we can't just eat candy for dinner, right? We tried that with the Elf party..." *shiver*
"So what do we eat? What do X-Men eat?"
"Wait! Hugh Jackman is Australian. Australian food!"
Thus...Australian Eye Candy movie night. Mock us not. You know you are sad you weren't here and that you had not thought of this brilliant concept.
A few Saturdays later it all came together. Folks wound up arriving at various times, so those of us in the first wave needed to nibble on something before dinner got underway. Thus, Kathie cleaned out her pantry and fridge of whatever random things she had.
Since the randomness included hummus, bruschetta, chips and salsa, and margaritas (there were celery sticks and cheese slices floating around, too), we decided to dub it The World Tour Prior to Arriving in Australia Appetizer Event. After we traveled to the Mediterranean, Italy, and Mexico, this was the decimation:
Apparently Aussies love their grills, so we found recipes for Australian steak, Australian barbecued meatloaf, and, of course, we had to have some shrimp on the barbie.
We had Koala Salad, as you can see :)
Bonni made bread from the recipe used at Outback Steakhouse. Yes, we know that they just give things Australian names there; we didn't care. Bonni meant to make mini loaves. She brought the dough and left it to rise in my very warm upstairs bonus room. When she went up to fetch them for the oven, we heard a squeal, followed by, "Hey! They aren't mini loaves any more...they're giant!" Here's what they expanded to in all their enthusiastic rising:
Bread came out delicious, Karin got a few of us hooked on Vegemite (okay, I can say that I am hooked--yum!), plus we had good Aussie wine and ale. Feast!
Then...in all it's delightful beauty and deliciousness, our Australian dessert: pavlova, or "pav", homemade by Stef. Can I just say that I have never liked meringue, no matter who made it or how it was delivered? Until I tasted Stefanie's meringue. Oh. My. Goodness. Then fill it with strawberries, kiwis, mangos, and whipped cream with passion fruit juice. Ohhhhhhh...
Here's the better of the two crowd shots I remembered to take. Don't whine, girls. The other pic is worse, with many more mouths just inches above their plates :)
And how did we handle the Eye Candy part of the evening? Well, first Karin scoured the Treasure Valley for gummi eyeballs or little chocolate eyeballs. Apparently those are Halloween fare only. So, in desperation, I stood in an aisle in Walgreen's trying to find candy to match our theme. Here's what came together in a flash of brilliance:
Get it? EXtra Dark chocolate for X-Men and since Hugh comes from back in time in Kate and Leopold, we have old fashioned candy.
Told you it was brilliant :)
And did you see that cutie holding the pavlova, Stefanie? She's gonna be my new roomie for a little while starting tomorrow! Whoo-hoo! I finally landed a chef in the house!
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Cake and Ice Cream
All in one day. But not in my mouth.
I was asked to cut a chocolate cake and serve nine pieces during an office celebration yesterday. I made sure to flaunt my blue frosting fingers (which would normally be my blue frosting tongue) to Becky on the other side of the table and let her see me wipe the frosting on a napkin. Props to me.
Then I went to dinner at the home of my Idaho Nancy and her honey, and for them and two other friends at the table I scooped four bowls of ice cream. French vanilla and coffee almond fudge. And I passed them the hot fudge when they asked. I did take a deep whiff as it went by.
Again, I used the napkin. My doctor better be WAY proud of me when the time comes to report in.
I have been telling people that at least I have finally learned to work with my weaknesses. What am I? A people pleaser. So, to kick start some change, if I have an official monitor, someone I look up to and trust, I'll behave because I want them to be proud of me.
Maybe he'll be so proud he'll give me a Marie Callender's strawberry pie. 'Tis the season, you know.
There's no dairy at the moment, too. I only made one flub when Becky gave me gorgeous homemade lasagna that I had begged her for, fogetting that cheese hides in lasagna. Oh, well. I saved the rest in the freezer for some future delicious rendevouz :)
Oh, and to answer, "Why am I doing this?" Because I went to the doctor and said, "I'm 39 and 9 days old, and I have been on a birthday eating binge for over month, and I woke up this morning and parts of me are bumping into other parts of me that shouldn't be touching. I now give you full leave to talk to me about what I put in my mouth."
So, a nutritional analysis followed, and some baby steps until we meet again. In the words of Bob Wiley, "Baby step away from the Peeps..."
I was asked to cut a chocolate cake and serve nine pieces during an office celebration yesterday. I made sure to flaunt my blue frosting fingers (which would normally be my blue frosting tongue) to Becky on the other side of the table and let her see me wipe the frosting on a napkin. Props to me.
Then I went to dinner at the home of my Idaho Nancy and her honey, and for them and two other friends at the table I scooped four bowls of ice cream. French vanilla and coffee almond fudge. And I passed them the hot fudge when they asked. I did take a deep whiff as it went by.
Again, I used the napkin. My doctor better be WAY proud of me when the time comes to report in.
I have been telling people that at least I have finally learned to work with my weaknesses. What am I? A people pleaser. So, to kick start some change, if I have an official monitor, someone I look up to and trust, I'll behave because I want them to be proud of me.
Maybe he'll be so proud he'll give me a Marie Callender's strawberry pie. 'Tis the season, you know.
There's no dairy at the moment, too. I only made one flub when Becky gave me gorgeous homemade lasagna that I had begged her for, fogetting that cheese hides in lasagna. Oh, well. I saved the rest in the freezer for some future delicious rendevouz :)
Oh, and to answer, "Why am I doing this?" Because I went to the doctor and said, "I'm 39 and 9 days old, and I have been on a birthday eating binge for over month, and I woke up this morning and parts of me are bumping into other parts of me that shouldn't be touching. I now give you full leave to talk to me about what I put in my mouth."
So, a nutritional analysis followed, and some baby steps until we meet again. In the words of Bob Wiley, "Baby step away from the Peeps..."
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