Yup, new word in X-man's vocabulary. He blurted it out tonight when he wanted to talk to his father, but his father wasn't picking up his phone. Where did he learn it?
I'm going to guess he learned it the same way I learned it -- by watching his father play video games. :-) For being a pretty non-traditional family in so many ways, in others we're just devoted followers of those that came before us. Ah well, at least he used it correctly, right?
Oh, and X-man LOVES the U of I softball team. The games are only 7 innings (so he can make it through a whole game) and he got a free t-shirt, a free poster (that all the players signed after the game), free pizza after the game and the players talked with him... and he met an 11-year-old girl who said, "I like you. You're a cool kid." That had him beaming for an hour! "She likes me!"
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Check, check and check!
Tomorrow, I'm taking my tri bike into a local bike shop to get them to look at it. They're going to set it up for me and fit me to it, which will be nice. Today, I road my Schwinn to weigh in and back. It's very comfortable, but not very speedy. I realized when I got there I had left my bike lock at home. Oh well. It was still there when I got back. :-)
I've been making a string of new dishes this week. Sunday was a bulgur salad as a side to a sweet vermouth ham. Tonight was Potato Gnocchi with a lemon/lime/shallot sauté over it and a white and green asparagus salad as a side. Tomorrow is Ma Po Tofu over brown rice. It has sirloin on it, which I find to be an interesting combination. So, we'll see how that goes. Then I'm done cooking for the rest of the week, which is fine, because we'll have some leftovers for lunches and such.
The truth is that since I started cooking a month before maintenance (August 2009) I've only made 6 dishes twice. That means the 3-4 times I've been cooking dinner each week for the last 7 months, I've made something new pretty much every time. I've liked a lot of what I've made, but I'm still waiting for recipes to blow my doors off.
Mmmm, casual cooking is a bit like casual sex in that way, I guess. But then again, how would I know that? Oh wait, I watch Grey's Anatomy...
I've been making a string of new dishes this week. Sunday was a bulgur salad as a side to a sweet vermouth ham. Tonight was Potato Gnocchi with a lemon/lime/shallot sauté over it and a white and green asparagus salad as a side. Tomorrow is Ma Po Tofu over brown rice. It has sirloin on it, which I find to be an interesting combination. So, we'll see how that goes. Then I'm done cooking for the rest of the week, which is fine, because we'll have some leftovers for lunches and such.
The truth is that since I started cooking a month before maintenance (August 2009) I've only made 6 dishes twice. That means the 3-4 times I've been cooking dinner each week for the last 7 months, I've made something new pretty much every time. I've liked a lot of what I've made, but I'm still waiting for recipes to blow my doors off.
Mmmm, casual cooking is a bit like casual sex in that way, I guess. But then again, how would I know that? Oh wait, I watch Grey's Anatomy...
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Projected Week of Whimsy
So, I've got a full week this week. Spring break is over, so I'm back in school. Back to the reading and the writing. I'm hoping to get my last three assignments for my Administration class done this week so I won't have to worry about anything but online discussions and reading chapters between now and the final. I also have a lab to finish for my Special Education class, a test and then one more lab after that and I should be done with my homework for the class (outside of discussions) until the finals. I like online classes, particularly when they allow you to work ahead.
But I also have a lot of fun planned this week. X-man and I get to play with LibbyGirl, Lightning McQueen and Thunder McGavin tomorrow afternoon. On Wednesday, X-man has an egg hunt at school with a special snack party, and if it's nice I'm taking him to the U of I softball game at 5:30 p.m. that night. On Thursday, X-man is getting sprung from school at 11:15 a.m. to go to his 4-year-old wellness appointment with his pediatrician. Then we're having lunch and playing until Little Gym at 4 p.m., and we're following it up with a picnic in the park. The weather is supposed to be 70 degrees or so starting on Wednesday, so I'm really excited.
On Friday, X-man's buddy is coming over for the day since the daycares are closed. We're hanging out and then heading over to the Sports Petting Zoo in Champaign. And at 3:30 p.m., X-man, Rileybug and I will be headed to Rockford, so X-man can dye eggs with Nana and I can run my first 10-mile race on Saturday. I'm projecting that someone either has to carry me across the finish or I'll be taken away by an ambulance. Yes, that's how confident I feel about this... (which is not very). I've done almost 9 miles. But I've never gone 10. So we'll see how it goes. Hopefully, it's not as windy as my run on Saturday was. And hopefully, the hills don't kill my back.
But I also have a lot of fun planned this week. X-man and I get to play with LibbyGirl, Lightning McQueen and Thunder McGavin tomorrow afternoon. On Wednesday, X-man has an egg hunt at school with a special snack party, and if it's nice I'm taking him to the U of I softball game at 5:30 p.m. that night. On Thursday, X-man is getting sprung from school at 11:15 a.m. to go to his 4-year-old wellness appointment with his pediatrician. Then we're having lunch and playing until Little Gym at 4 p.m., and we're following it up with a picnic in the park. The weather is supposed to be 70 degrees or so starting on Wednesday, so I'm really excited.
On Friday, X-man's buddy is coming over for the day since the daycares are closed. We're hanging out and then heading over to the Sports Petting Zoo in Champaign. And at 3:30 p.m., X-man, Rileybug and I will be headed to Rockford, so X-man can dye eggs with Nana and I can run my first 10-mile race on Saturday. I'm projecting that someone either has to carry me across the finish or I'll be taken away by an ambulance. Yes, that's how confident I feel about this... (which is not very). I've done almost 9 miles. But I've never gone 10. So we'll see how it goes. Hopefully, it's not as windy as my run on Saturday was. And hopefully, the hills don't kill my back.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Frenzy of Workouts
Today, I ran for 90 minutes. I went just over 8 miles. I had to do it at the Savoy Rec Center. Okay, I didn't have to, but the wind and the cold rain made me think that running 8 miles on a gerbil track seemed way more enjoyable than shivering to the bone running around outside against a 40mph wet wind.
Tomorrow, I'm going to get on my tri bike for the first time and ride it to the pool, do a 40-minute swim and then ride home. I'm kind of excited about it. It's going to be cool (around 45 degrees as a high) but it's also supposed to be sunny, thank goodness.
The weather report for Saturday is supposed to be 60 and beautiful, so I think I'll try to fit in another 5-mile run then. I also have to try to piece together the hitch for my Schwinn so X-man's trailer can be hooked up again. MacTroll unhooked it to ride the bike around last fall and never reconnected it. And then X-man did his "move stuff around" thing. Sigh.
Tonight for dinner, MacTroll made me dinner. It was part of his birthday present to me, so I cashed in. He made me the Cooking Light version of poutine and even bought my favorite beer for me. Tomorrow, we're using up our date night money to send X-man to the Parent Survival Night at the Little Gym. I don't know what we're going to do but we'll be kidless for 2-3 hours and just hang out together. I'm kind of excited about it, and X-man is very excited about having "open gym time" and snack with the staff at the gym. He's developed quite an attachment to Ms. Niki and Mr. Giles.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
A New Experience
When I flew to Toronto last week I hadn't been on an airplane since my trip to Montreal in August. When I went to Montreal I was roughly 185 lbs and wore a size 12 Gap Long and Lean jeans. I noticed when I got on the little regional jet out of Savoy that I fit better in the seat in August. At my largest I fit into the seatbelt (even when I was 7 months pregnant) without an extender, but it was dangerously close -- and probably thanks to my husband flying me in business class at the time that I didn't have to ask for one.
For the thin people in the world, asking for a seatbelt extender is something a fat person is scared to death of. Mostly because you're afraid the airline will go all Southwest on you and throw you off like they did with Kevin Smith, but also because there's usually only one extender... if someone else has it, and you request it, you've drawn attention to yourself as needing one and then you don't meet the safety requirements for take off. It's also pretty much the walk of shame up the aisle to ask for it, because it's step number one of any 12-step program -- admitting you have a problem.
When I flew in August, I went from having the seatbelt at the very END of the regular connector and having my hips wedged in between the armrests to having 4-5 inches of space and having my hips just gently caress the armrests. It was much more comfortable. I could -- shock -- cross my legs without having to physically lift a leg up and help it over the other one.
This flight, I weighed 156 lbs. I wore my Lucky Jeans size 4/27. And this was what I found:
My thighs didn't touch the armrests. My seatbelt had around 8-10 inches of space at the end of it. In other words, to fit comfortably into an airline seat, you have to be less than 5'7" tall and be around a size 6 or less. How many people do you know that fit that description? And, really, should they? Is there not a more accommodating seat size?
I think everyone should be the person they want to be and love who they are. In my mind, you, dear reader, rock -- no matter what size you are.
For the thin people in the world, asking for a seatbelt extender is something a fat person is scared to death of. Mostly because you're afraid the airline will go all Southwest on you and throw you off like they did with Kevin Smith, but also because there's usually only one extender... if someone else has it, and you request it, you've drawn attention to yourself as needing one and then you don't meet the safety requirements for take off. It's also pretty much the walk of shame up the aisle to ask for it, because it's step number one of any 12-step program -- admitting you have a problem.
When I flew in August, I went from having the seatbelt at the very END of the regular connector and having my hips wedged in between the armrests to having 4-5 inches of space and having my hips just gently caress the armrests. It was much more comfortable. I could -- shock -- cross my legs without having to physically lift a leg up and help it over the other one.
This flight, I weighed 156 lbs. I wore my Lucky Jeans size 4/27. And this was what I found:
My thighs didn't touch the armrests. My seatbelt had around 8-10 inches of space at the end of it. In other words, to fit comfortably into an airline seat, you have to be less than 5'7" tall and be around a size 6 or less. How many people do you know that fit that description? And, really, should they? Is there not a more accommodating seat size?
I think everyone should be the person they want to be and love who they are. In my mind, you, dear reader, rock -- no matter what size you are.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Inhale, Exhale. Inhale, Exhale.
I seem to be playing out some kind of multiple personality disorder today. I woke up kind of grouchy, tried to rally and ignore some things that annoyed me when I shouldn't have been surprised that the instances occurred. I made it to the gym, rode the bike for 20 minutes nice and easy to warm up my thighs, which are still stiff from workouts on Friday and Saturday. Then I went to my third pilates training session with Thom from the Fitness Center.
I hadn't been able to go since the first week in March because I pulled some of my abdominal muscles on the left hand side of my body. But today the workout felt great. It was hard. Really hard. My whole body was shaking as it went through the strengthening and stretching movements. I really focused on following instructions and not allowing my body to "cheat." But Thom did notice that I tend to allow my right side of my body to do more work than the left side (since I'm right side dominant). So he spent a bit of time correcting my form and showing me what was correct versus what felt natural. Funny how those two things aren't always the same thing. But I felt pretty chipper when I left the gym.
I came home and had some HMR soup with vegetables, calculated my food tallies and physical activity for the week and then went to weigh-in. I was up 1.5 lbs, which is normal for a Monday. I tend to work out heavier toward the end of the week/weekend and retain water... and then by Wednesday I usually lose 3 or so lbs. But it's a constant progress. I've gone up and down the same 1.5 lbs on weigh-in day since hitting goal. I felt okay when I left the clinic.
Then I came home and found some other stuff that annoyed me. It's no one's fault. There were some accidents. I had lunch and then retreated to my bedroom. Now I'm thinking shower and clean sheets and a nap after I put some of my laundry away. And now I just feel tired and grouchy.
Maybe it's the cloudy weather?
Clawdio is in my lap doing his best to try and make me feel better. We'll see if it works.
I hadn't been able to go since the first week in March because I pulled some of my abdominal muscles on the left hand side of my body. But today the workout felt great. It was hard. Really hard. My whole body was shaking as it went through the strengthening and stretching movements. I really focused on following instructions and not allowing my body to "cheat." But Thom did notice that I tend to allow my right side of my body to do more work than the left side (since I'm right side dominant). So he spent a bit of time correcting my form and showing me what was correct versus what felt natural. Funny how those two things aren't always the same thing. But I felt pretty chipper when I left the gym.
I came home and had some HMR soup with vegetables, calculated my food tallies and physical activity for the week and then went to weigh-in. I was up 1.5 lbs, which is normal for a Monday. I tend to work out heavier toward the end of the week/weekend and retain water... and then by Wednesday I usually lose 3 or so lbs. But it's a constant progress. I've gone up and down the same 1.5 lbs on weigh-in day since hitting goal. I felt okay when I left the clinic.
Then I came home and found some other stuff that annoyed me. It's no one's fault. There were some accidents. I had lunch and then retreated to my bedroom. Now I'm thinking shower and clean sheets and a nap after I put some of my laundry away. And now I just feel tired and grouchy.
Maybe it's the cloudy weather?
Clawdio is in my lap doing his best to try and make me feel better. We'll see if it works.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Girls Gone Wild -- T.O.
Okay, so it's not a completely appropriate title. There was no breast flashing or drunken madness. But I did have four days of pretty much girl time without family in Toronto.
There was shopping, drinking, dressing up, being dressed up, food, workouts and hanging about. I had my second opportunity to wear my corset and this time, I managed to get it on all by myself, so that's a large accomplishment.
I got to snuggle with two very cute dogs and two very affectionate cats. I learned I liked a new kind of protein bar, and I get to visit with folks I usually only get to see every couple of years. And surprise, surprise, U.S. Immigration even let me back into the country with my crazy inaccurate passport photo.
(The officer did ask me about it and then asked me how I lost the weight -- and then instead of considering me a security risk he confessed that he was terrible at listening and following directions when it came to eating properly. He looked at the image and declared, "Well, your nose hasn't changed. You look great" and sent me on my way.)
We'll have to see what happens when I fly to Montreal in October for the Parc LaFontaine 10k.
I worked out at Andrina and Ian's gym twice this week, and my legs are really showing it today. I have trouble balancing and my brain signals for my body to move, but I can count to three before it actually follows directions. Stairs are -- interesting. The pain is gone, but there's a significant stiffness. On Friday we trained with her personal trainer Greg. Greg did a lot of strength moves (squat jumps, heaving dumbbells, hurdle work, etc.) and then had us run 1100 meters (1600 meters is a mile) as fast as we could up and down hills (which my back wasn't used to and was a bit sore from the next day). Dri estimated that she burned around 1,000 calories in the hour workout according to her watch. The next day we went with Ian to a circuit class. Weight training and cardio activities for 60 minutes, each for a minute at a time as fast and as hard as you can go. The movements were all very different than what I was used to, but I did love the warm up which was shuttle runs (remember those from gym class?).
But we also ate well. I had red snapper for the first time on Friday night and it was so good I literally sucked on it in my mouth. It was followed by a warm butter tart. We shopped at the high-end mall, where I found a hot pair of shoes at Aldo's.
We had pedicures when I arrived (hence the pretty toes). All in all it was a lovely trip, and it was nice to see friends who I normally only get to chat with through Facebook. And as useful as the social networking site is, it's not the same as spending time together.
There was shopping, drinking, dressing up, being dressed up, food, workouts and hanging about. I had my second opportunity to wear my corset and this time, I managed to get it on all by myself, so that's a large accomplishment.
I got to snuggle with two very cute dogs and two very affectionate cats. I learned I liked a new kind of protein bar, and I get to visit with folks I usually only get to see every couple of years. And surprise, surprise, U.S. Immigration even let me back into the country with my crazy inaccurate passport photo.
(The officer did ask me about it and then asked me how I lost the weight -- and then instead of considering me a security risk he confessed that he was terrible at listening and following directions when it came to eating properly. He looked at the image and declared, "Well, your nose hasn't changed. You look great" and sent me on my way.)
We'll have to see what happens when I fly to Montreal in October for the Parc LaFontaine 10k.
I worked out at Andrina and Ian's gym twice this week, and my legs are really showing it today. I have trouble balancing and my brain signals for my body to move, but I can count to three before it actually follows directions. Stairs are -- interesting. The pain is gone, but there's a significant stiffness. On Friday we trained with her personal trainer Greg. Greg did a lot of strength moves (squat jumps, heaving dumbbells, hurdle work, etc.) and then had us run 1100 meters (1600 meters is a mile) as fast as we could up and down hills (which my back wasn't used to and was a bit sore from the next day). Dri estimated that she burned around 1,000 calories in the hour workout according to her watch. The next day we went with Ian to a circuit class. Weight training and cardio activities for 60 minutes, each for a minute at a time as fast and as hard as you can go. The movements were all very different than what I was used to, but I did love the warm up which was shuttle runs (remember those from gym class?).
But we also ate well. I had red snapper for the first time on Friday night and it was so good I literally sucked on it in my mouth. It was followed by a warm butter tart. We shopped at the high-end mall, where I found a hot pair of shoes at Aldo's.
We had pedicures when I arrived (hence the pretty toes). All in all it was a lovely trip, and it was nice to see friends who I normally only get to chat with through Facebook. And as useful as the social networking site is, it's not the same as spending time together.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
23 hours
I'm leaving tomorrow morning for Toronto. It's just me. My friend Andrina is picking me up at the airport and we're getting pedicures, doing some shopping and going out for a girls' only dinner. I am very excited. I love visiting friends, but I also love Canada. And there might be a healthy dose of excitement about a butter tart in there, too.
I started packing my bag last night trying to decide what Non-Mom clothes to bring. I have workout stuff, too. That is if my pulled left abdominal muscle and my right knee, which has gone wobbly today, can get out of their funk.
X-man was really pretty miffed that MacTroll was coming home tonight only to have me roll out of bed and off to the airport tomorrow. "We should be together as a family. Daddy misses you. We want you to stay home."
Seriously, if he was a Mom I'd read this as a totally manipulative guilt trip. But he's not. He's 4. And he loves when we're all together. But at the same time, I have to go. It's good for me. It's good for him to have alone time with Dad. It's good for Dad to have alone time with him. And I adore them both, but really -- Mommy needs to sleep and have non-kid related discussions and carry her vowels in adorably awesome ways.
I'll take my camera, still debating taking the corset. :-P
I started packing my bag last night trying to decide what Non-Mom clothes to bring. I have workout stuff, too. That is if my pulled left abdominal muscle and my right knee, which has gone wobbly today, can get out of their funk.
X-man was really pretty miffed that MacTroll was coming home tonight only to have me roll out of bed and off to the airport tomorrow. "We should be together as a family. Daddy misses you. We want you to stay home."
Seriously, if he was a Mom I'd read this as a totally manipulative guilt trip. But he's not. He's 4. And he loves when we're all together. But at the same time, I have to go. It's good for me. It's good for him to have alone time with Dad. It's good for Dad to have alone time with him. And I adore them both, but really -- Mommy needs to sleep and have non-kid related discussions and carry her vowels in adorably awesome ways.
I'll take my camera, still debating taking the corset. :-P
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Picking and Choosing
The definition of swimming: Propel the body through water by using limbs.
The definition of running: Move at a faster speed than a walk, never having both feet on the ground a the same time.
The definition of biking: Riding a bicycle.
It all seems so simple. But apparently, it's not. I'm signed up to do a Try-a-Triathlon in August and truth be told, I've been looking at two others mini-tris in the Champaign area as well, not because I'm all gung ho about killing myself or competing at some higher athletic competition. It's more about investment.
To do any of the things above you assume you need minimal "things." To swim -- you're going to need a suit at the very least and some goggles, unless you're a pro at keeping water out of your eyes and have 20/20 vision.
To run, most people want the bare minimum -- some socks and some shoes. Honestly, I need those, a sports bra, some dry wicking everything (don't even get me started in how the weather warming up has suddenly given me bacne like crazy from the sweat around my sports bra), a ponytail holder and a hat to keep the sun out of my eyes. Later... I'll want some sunblock... and I prefer to have my iPod.
To bike, most people need a -- you guessed it -- bike.
But to do a triathlon which is all three sporting events put together (not in this order), there is apparently special gear. Special swimsuits that also act as running/biking tops/shorts, so you don't have to change out of them when you're running from the water to put on your shoes to get on your bike and when you're (I'm assuming) dumping your bike and taking off running like mad toward the finish line. No one stops the time clock for the transition, so you want to make it as fluid as possible. However, people do have special cycling shoes, special running shoes. They may have different hats, different water bottles... and then the bike is, in all of my reading, the acme of a triathlete's experience. If you're biking for miles, you want to be comfortable and fast. Apparently, my hybrid bike that I tool around with X-man's trailer on the back isn't exactly up to par. It's not a road bike.
So, with the help of my friend Andrina, who wants to do a lot more triathlons, I started down the road of bike research. And what I found was that the least amount of bike that wouldn't have "real triathletes" snarling at me was $1,200.
That amount of money is way more than I wanted to invest. I started saving money last November and after my birthday had $500, which I had determined was the most I could save because I also need new running shoes before June. So I started to look local and look used. But everything was labeled as "needs work" and I was wary of bike auctions and ebay after reading the triathlete web sites where other beginners had gotten screwed over. So I took my money and bought the lowest grade bike that I could get that didn't have the name Schwinn on it (Schwinn makes my hybrid that I love -- it's very comfortable, I got it at Target and would recommend it to anyone looking to haul their kiddo around in a trailer). Real triathletes will still laugh at my bikesdirect.com choice. But I don't care. I have a bike. It has pedals and brakes that work and it's not something I would have ridden in the 1980's to pick up groceries for my mother on my 10-speed. Joel put it together for me this weekend. I's pretty though -- it even has maple leaves on it, and how cute is that for my the Try-a-Tri in Toronto in August? (So cute people will probably vomit on me during the ferry ride over.)
And at some point, I'll switch over from riding on the stationery bike to riding on a real bike after I get it fitted.
The next thing I nixed was the fancy biking shoes. My bike pedals have straps like at the gym, but no clip-on pedals. I don't have a heart rate monitor. I don't even have a bloody watch that does splits. I have no fancy suit or goggles. I've got a speedo I bought at thanksgiving and the goggles I got on clearance last fall. I'm scrappy (i.e. cheap) because I'd rather spend $700 to go see my friend Robin in the Virgin Islands in June.
In addition, the amount of triathlon gear marketing was overwhelmed me. Even the basic needs lists that web sites give you seemed excessive, and truthfully, it frightened me. I don't have any grand notions of doing well. I just hope I finish. But at the same time, I don't want to be the suckiest one out there -- that everyone is staring at. I already feel that way at running races. And these people are a whole different breed. Of course, most of them won't be at the mini tris... thank goodness.
I had a friend today tell me that I was just barely learning to walk when it came to this whole body changeover. That I've lived in my head too long, and now that I'm learning to use my body, I am totally insecure about my abilities, which is strange because I guess in my every day normal life I seem rather confident about things. I found that fascinating. Moreover, I liked that my friend wasn't afraid to tell me how she felt. She was hitting a raw nerve. A very raw nerve.
The definition of running: Move at a faster speed than a walk, never having both feet on the ground a the same time.
The definition of biking: Riding a bicycle.
It all seems so simple. But apparently, it's not. I'm signed up to do a Try-a-Triathlon in August and truth be told, I've been looking at two others mini-tris in the Champaign area as well, not because I'm all gung ho about killing myself or competing at some higher athletic competition. It's more about investment.
To do any of the things above you assume you need minimal "things." To swim -- you're going to need a suit at the very least and some goggles, unless you're a pro at keeping water out of your eyes and have 20/20 vision.
To run, most people want the bare minimum -- some socks and some shoes. Honestly, I need those, a sports bra, some dry wicking everything (don't even get me started in how the weather warming up has suddenly given me bacne like crazy from the sweat around my sports bra), a ponytail holder and a hat to keep the sun out of my eyes. Later... I'll want some sunblock... and I prefer to have my iPod.
To bike, most people need a -- you guessed it -- bike.
But to do a triathlon which is all three sporting events put together (not in this order), there is apparently special gear. Special swimsuits that also act as running/biking tops/shorts, so you don't have to change out of them when you're running from the water to put on your shoes to get on your bike and when you're (I'm assuming) dumping your bike and taking off running like mad toward the finish line. No one stops the time clock for the transition, so you want to make it as fluid as possible. However, people do have special cycling shoes, special running shoes. They may have different hats, different water bottles... and then the bike is, in all of my reading, the acme of a triathlete's experience. If you're biking for miles, you want to be comfortable and fast. Apparently, my hybrid bike that I tool around with X-man's trailer on the back isn't exactly up to par. It's not a road bike.
So, with the help of my friend Andrina, who wants to do a lot more triathlons, I started down the road of bike research. And what I found was that the least amount of bike that wouldn't have "real triathletes" snarling at me was $1,200.
That amount of money is way more than I wanted to invest. I started saving money last November and after my birthday had $500, which I had determined was the most I could save because I also need new running shoes before June. So I started to look local and look used. But everything was labeled as "needs work" and I was wary of bike auctions and ebay after reading the triathlete web sites where other beginners had gotten screwed over. So I took my money and bought the lowest grade bike that I could get that didn't have the name Schwinn on it (Schwinn makes my hybrid that I love -- it's very comfortable, I got it at Target and would recommend it to anyone looking to haul their kiddo around in a trailer). Real triathletes will still laugh at my bikesdirect.com choice. But I don't care. I have a bike. It has pedals and brakes that work and it's not something I would have ridden in the 1980's to pick up groceries for my mother on my 10-speed. Joel put it together for me this weekend. I's pretty though -- it even has maple leaves on it, and how cute is that for my the Try-a-Tri in Toronto in August? (So cute people will probably vomit on me during the ferry ride over.)
And at some point, I'll switch over from riding on the stationery bike to riding on a real bike after I get it fitted.
The next thing I nixed was the fancy biking shoes. My bike pedals have straps like at the gym, but no clip-on pedals. I don't have a heart rate monitor. I don't even have a bloody watch that does splits. I have no fancy suit or goggles. I've got a speedo I bought at thanksgiving and the goggles I got on clearance last fall. I'm scrappy (i.e. cheap) because I'd rather spend $700 to go see my friend Robin in the Virgin Islands in June.
In addition, the amount of triathlon gear marketing was overwhelmed me. Even the basic needs lists that web sites give you seemed excessive, and truthfully, it frightened me. I don't have any grand notions of doing well. I just hope I finish. But at the same time, I don't want to be the suckiest one out there -- that everyone is staring at. I already feel that way at running races. And these people are a whole different breed. Of course, most of them won't be at the mini tris... thank goodness.
I had a friend today tell me that I was just barely learning to walk when it came to this whole body changeover. That I've lived in my head too long, and now that I'm learning to use my body, I am totally insecure about my abilities, which is strange because I guess in my every day normal life I seem rather confident about things. I found that fascinating. Moreover, I liked that my friend wasn't afraid to tell me how she felt. She was hitting a raw nerve. A very raw nerve.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Milk Money
The other day we needed a gallon of milk. This happens every Tuesday/Wednesday that MacTroll and X-man are home at the same time. MacTroll is a habitual cereal eater. He consumes large quantities each a.m. And X-man consumes loads of milk (usually mixed with the Hershey's syrup Light) when he's growing... and for the last 4-6 weeks he's been drinking it at amazing speeds.
Anyway, I was out and about doing an errand at the dreaded Wally Mart when I went to pick up a gallon of milk. It was over $3. What? Wait. Didn't I just pay $2 per gallon at Meijer in Urbana during Friday's normal grocery shopping? Mmmm. I know it's only like a dollar and some change, but seriously. You're the evil Emperor of big box stores worldwide... can't you do better than that on a gallon of "Great Value" milk?
The most devious part of this is that down the street, I knew Schnuck's, which everyone complains to me is too expensive regardless of the jingle on the radio that insists they're a cost saving store, had milk for $2.40. At this point you're shaking your head. "Is Loosey really so cheap she drove a mile down the road to get milk for under a buck cheaper?"
The answer to this is, of course, yes, because we all know I'm a bit crazy. I loathe Wally Mart with a passion I usually only reserve for deans of my undergraduate university, social fraternities and sororities, rapists, child abusers, people who commit hate crimes, the Miami airport and Port Hope, Ontario.
But it gets more complicated than that. When I was a child, I went grocery shopping with my paternal grandmother in Springhill, Florida. She shopped at the Winn Dixie. She was apparently a Winn Dixie woman (since they had no Jewel), but she was also a veteran stay-at-home Mom with four grown kids, which meant she hated to waste a penny. (Do you see where this is going?) We shopped, got home, put away the groceries and THEN Nana opened the paper. "Get in the car, Sweetheart. We're taking these eggs back."
In my brain, I figured it must have been a couple bucks. I mean, they lived in Florida, and it was Saturday. And there were old people driving crazily through parking lots everywhere (all of them driving tanks like my grandparents' Crown Vic), who in their right minds would want to go out in that -- twice? Twenty minutes later, we walked up to the customer service counter with our eggs and the weekend circular and the shopping receipt. The old man's eyebrows went up as my grandmother explained that the eggs would have cost her less across the street at the Publix (why are grocery stores always right next to each other?) and would Winn Dixie honor the difference in price for a loyal customer or would she have return the eggs and go buy them across the street and think twice about where she shops next week?
The man, who was in his sixties as well, leaned over the circular from Publix, took her receipt and stared at it. His glasses slowly slid down his nose. He was quiet and solemn. "I'm sorry ma'am, let me get the difference for you." He opened the drawer and very gently handed my grandmother a penny.
My mouth dropped open. She'd burned way more than that in her giant car. I mean, I could have been in the pool in the backyard or picking strawberries from the garden or doing something way more fun. This was just weird. But this was Nana. The woman would get on her hands and knees in a pair of yellow rubber gloves and a plastic bin of cleaner to scrub down her baseboards every few weeks. She'd be sitting there wiping away with a Virginia Slim hanging from her lips.
To be fair, I waited until the next day to go to Schnuck's. KTDID was in the car with me and I suddenly got a brainy idea. "Hey, let's just get it from the Schnuck's gas station!"
I ran into the gas station to find a gallon of milk. Only it was the Prairie Farm's brand, not the Schnuck's brand (isn't that a bit weird?) and it was over $4. WTF? I guess you pay an extra $2 for "convenience." I exited the gas station bitching up a storm and then KTDID and I went into the store and found it, finally, for $2.40.
Yeah. So in the long run I have to ask... did I learn this behavior from that whole outing with my grandmother or is it genetic cheapness?
To be fair, I paid $2.29 for a gallon of milk at Meijer this afternoon. The 2 for $4 deal seems to be over. But they did have $1 bags of goldfish, 10 for $10 avocados and 10 for $10 on Coke products (buy 10 Coke products, you even get the 11th free). And, for Quigs, Fiber One bars were on sale for $1.99 a box.
Anyway, I was out and about doing an errand at the dreaded Wally Mart when I went to pick up a gallon of milk. It was over $3. What? Wait. Didn't I just pay $2 per gallon at Meijer in Urbana during Friday's normal grocery shopping? Mmmm. I know it's only like a dollar and some change, but seriously. You're the evil Emperor of big box stores worldwide... can't you do better than that on a gallon of "Great Value" milk?
The most devious part of this is that down the street, I knew Schnuck's, which everyone complains to me is too expensive regardless of the jingle on the radio that insists they're a cost saving store, had milk for $2.40. At this point you're shaking your head. "Is Loosey really so cheap she drove a mile down the road to get milk for under a buck cheaper?"
The answer to this is, of course, yes, because we all know I'm a bit crazy. I loathe Wally Mart with a passion I usually only reserve for deans of my undergraduate university, social fraternities and sororities, rapists, child abusers, people who commit hate crimes, the Miami airport and Port Hope, Ontario.
But it gets more complicated than that. When I was a child, I went grocery shopping with my paternal grandmother in Springhill, Florida. She shopped at the Winn Dixie. She was apparently a Winn Dixie woman (since they had no Jewel), but she was also a veteran stay-at-home Mom with four grown kids, which meant she hated to waste a penny. (Do you see where this is going?) We shopped, got home, put away the groceries and THEN Nana opened the paper. "Get in the car, Sweetheart. We're taking these eggs back."
In my brain, I figured it must have been a couple bucks. I mean, they lived in Florida, and it was Saturday. And there were old people driving crazily through parking lots everywhere (all of them driving tanks like my grandparents' Crown Vic), who in their right minds would want to go out in that -- twice? Twenty minutes later, we walked up to the customer service counter with our eggs and the weekend circular and the shopping receipt. The old man's eyebrows went up as my grandmother explained that the eggs would have cost her less across the street at the Publix (why are grocery stores always right next to each other?) and would Winn Dixie honor the difference in price for a loyal customer or would she have return the eggs and go buy them across the street and think twice about where she shops next week?
The man, who was in his sixties as well, leaned over the circular from Publix, took her receipt and stared at it. His glasses slowly slid down his nose. He was quiet and solemn. "I'm sorry ma'am, let me get the difference for you." He opened the drawer and very gently handed my grandmother a penny.
My mouth dropped open. She'd burned way more than that in her giant car. I mean, I could have been in the pool in the backyard or picking strawberries from the garden or doing something way more fun. This was just weird. But this was Nana. The woman would get on her hands and knees in a pair of yellow rubber gloves and a plastic bin of cleaner to scrub down her baseboards every few weeks. She'd be sitting there wiping away with a Virginia Slim hanging from her lips.
To be fair, I waited until the next day to go to Schnuck's. KTDID was in the car with me and I suddenly got a brainy idea. "Hey, let's just get it from the Schnuck's gas station!"
I ran into the gas station to find a gallon of milk. Only it was the Prairie Farm's brand, not the Schnuck's brand (isn't that a bit weird?) and it was over $4. WTF? I guess you pay an extra $2 for "convenience." I exited the gas station bitching up a storm and then KTDID and I went into the store and found it, finally, for $2.40.
Yeah. So in the long run I have to ask... did I learn this behavior from that whole outing with my grandmother or is it genetic cheapness?
To be fair, I paid $2.29 for a gallon of milk at Meijer this afternoon. The 2 for $4 deal seems to be over. But they did have $1 bags of goldfish, 10 for $10 avocados and 10 for $10 on Coke products (buy 10 Coke products, you even get the 11th free). And, for Quigs, Fiber One bars were on sale for $1.99 a box.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
From behind the counter: Loosey's first retail experience
I took a small collection of clothes to this spring's Divine Consign sale in Urbana. Divine Consign is a sale that happens once every six months over the weekend, and being the fan of consignment that I am, I decied to check it out as a consignor and a shopper last fall and had some great success.
So this time, I picked up one 4-hour volunteer shift. Being a consignor gives you a pass to a 2-hour pre-sale where you get a first look at everything and a free pass to shop an hour before opening on the last day of the sale when most everything becomes 1/2 off. You earn 65 percent of what you price your items for, but for every 4-hour volunteer shift, you earn an extra 5 percent.
Last fall I made around $140 and sold a lot of my plus sized clothes. This spring, I sent over all of my 8s and mediums, which wasn't too many since I don't have a lot of clothes any more (another budgetary consideration to losing weight besides the expense of a gym, food, etc.).
I was glad I went to the pre-sale because at 5 p.m. when I started my shift a swarm of women showed up ready to shop and things were getting hairy. I was running around putting things on hangers that had fallen off, returning items to the floor and helping people with their hands full put things on hold at the door to purchase or at the try on area. From 5-6:30 p.m. it was a madhouse and by 8 p.m. I swear half of the items in the place were gone.
I also ran into Quigs, which is always a pleasant experience, Quigs' neighbor, a Next Gen parent and an old boss. The four hours were strangely comforting, like back in the day when my job at the non profit required me to put labels on envelopes for an hour. It wasn't at all mentally taxing, but it was highly organizational, which is one of my favorite skills.
The best part about the sale was when a woman I was taking clothes to the register for pulled my pair of Michael Kors jeans off the rack and exclaimed, "These are an awesome find and so cute." I didn't say, "Those were mine!" I just smiled and thought -- cha-ching!
So this time, I picked up one 4-hour volunteer shift. Being a consignor gives you a pass to a 2-hour pre-sale where you get a first look at everything and a free pass to shop an hour before opening on the last day of the sale when most everything becomes 1/2 off. You earn 65 percent of what you price your items for, but for every 4-hour volunteer shift, you earn an extra 5 percent.
Last fall I made around $140 and sold a lot of my plus sized clothes. This spring, I sent over all of my 8s and mediums, which wasn't too many since I don't have a lot of clothes any more (another budgetary consideration to losing weight besides the expense of a gym, food, etc.).
I was glad I went to the pre-sale because at 5 p.m. when I started my shift a swarm of women showed up ready to shop and things were getting hairy. I was running around putting things on hangers that had fallen off, returning items to the floor and helping people with their hands full put things on hold at the door to purchase or at the try on area. From 5-6:30 p.m. it was a madhouse and by 8 p.m. I swear half of the items in the place were gone.
I also ran into Quigs, which is always a pleasant experience, Quigs' neighbor, a Next Gen parent and an old boss. The four hours were strangely comforting, like back in the day when my job at the non profit required me to put labels on envelopes for an hour. It wasn't at all mentally taxing, but it was highly organizational, which is one of my favorite skills.
The best part about the sale was when a woman I was taking clothes to the register for pulled my pair of Michael Kors jeans off the rack and exclaimed, "These are an awesome find and so cute." I didn't say, "Those were mine!" I just smiled and thought -- cha-ching!
Friday, March 12, 2010
X-man Turns 4: Normal, Sombreros and Song and Dance
When it comes to blogging about X-man's 4th birthday, I don't win any Mommy Awards on timeliness. But I swear it's because we're in the middle of his birthday week -- which is a bit hectic. Plus, our dishwasher broke. Plus, we have a cat going in for rechecks. Plus, I've been tagging all my clothes for the Divine Consign sale so I can afford some spring ones. School has been frightfully busy between classwork and my internship. And spring break is coming up next week, so I guess I'm feeling slammed on all sides and ready to vacate to Canada (that's right -- I'm blowing this popsicle stand next Thursday a.m. for a Loosey-only vacation to Toronto).
But here's what I wanted to share with you about how I experienced X-man's 4th birthday at the Children's Discovery Museum in Normal, Ill.:
But here's what I wanted to share with you about how I experienced X-man's 4th birthday at the Children's Discovery Museum in Normal, Ill.:
The first time we went to the museum he was 16 months old and he had been walking without assistance for only 4 weeks, and he loved that grocery store. Now he's 48 months old -- and he still loves that play grocery store.
Apparently when we go there he has to wear a red shirt and khaki pants, too. After the museum, we came home and opened gifts. Then we took the kiddo out for dinner with the Wonder Twins at El Toro 2, where the staff sang happy birthday to him, let him wear a giant sombrero (that he loved) but he was a bit weirded out by the woman putting whipped cream on his face. He was a good sport about it though. After dinner, we headed to the Nick Jr. Storytime show at Assembly Hall, where we all agreed that having the Wonder Pets dressed up like giant puppets rather than people in regular outfits like the Backyardigans was a bad costume choice.
That night was a late bedtime night. Kind of like my night tonight. But this is what happens when you're working all day the day before you have 10 people to your house for brunch on Saturday... after you run a 5k.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Tramps Like Us...
I went out this a.m. for my longest run yet. I meant to go 8 miles, but ended up at 8.57 because, um, I got lost in the Devonshire subdivision and before I knew it -- boom, I was at Devonshire and Mattis.
I was supposed to turn earlier and head through Morrissey Park across from X-man's school. But I apparently missed the turn and just kept going. But Lance Armstrong congratulated me through my iPod when I ended my workout. I hadn't heard a congratulatory voice through my iPod in a while. I was also glad to get it over with while the rain was just spitting at me, versus right now, when it's a bit more -- yuck.
It's supposed to rain for the next several days, which depresses me a bit, but at the same time, I really enjoyed the smell of wet earth going through the neighborhoods today. It felt like spring, even though I know it's not. For me, spring usually starts after the last freeze... which sometimes gets us as late as May 1.
I have a 5k to run next weekend on the U of I campus. It's my first race since November. I'm not sure what I hope to accomplish any more when I sign up for these competitions besides the fact that it keeps me motivated to keep moving, keep running, keep going back to the pool (which I don't do as often as I wish I could) and keep going to the gym to get on the stationery bike. I'll set out on the road to do some real biking soon. I'm not sure when it comes to the triathlon if the biking will do me in or the swimming. I feel equally blasé about both.
MacTroll's friend Jef Mallet is a triathlete. He does a lot of his signings for his Comic "Frazz" at bike places (because Frazz is a bike enthusiast). I remember when X-man was a baby, we bought him a onesie with this strip on it. It's still my motivation moving forward with all this exercise.
I was supposed to turn earlier and head through Morrissey Park across from X-man's school. But I apparently missed the turn and just kept going. But Lance Armstrong congratulated me through my iPod when I ended my workout. I hadn't heard a congratulatory voice through my iPod in a while. I was also glad to get it over with while the rain was just spitting at me, versus right now, when it's a bit more -- yuck.
It's supposed to rain for the next several days, which depresses me a bit, but at the same time, I really enjoyed the smell of wet earth going through the neighborhoods today. It felt like spring, even though I know it's not. For me, spring usually starts after the last freeze... which sometimes gets us as late as May 1.
I have a 5k to run next weekend on the U of I campus. It's my first race since November. I'm not sure what I hope to accomplish any more when I sign up for these competitions besides the fact that it keeps me motivated to keep moving, keep running, keep going back to the pool (which I don't do as often as I wish I could) and keep going to the gym to get on the stationery bike. I'll set out on the road to do some real biking soon. I'm not sure when it comes to the triathlon if the biking will do me in or the swimming. I feel equally blasé about both.
MacTroll's friend Jef Mallet is a triathlete. He does a lot of his signings for his Comic "Frazz" at bike places (because Frazz is a bike enthusiast). I remember when X-man was a baby, we bought him a onesie with this strip on it. It's still my motivation moving forward with all this exercise.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
The Weight of Bread
The television show Friends came on when I was a freshman in college. On Thursday nights the entire dorm would gather in rooms to watch the show. And I remember as the Monica storyline began to go down the "Monica used to be fat" road, I cringed. And then the next shot was Courtney Cox in a "fat outfit." Sigh.
But what struck me as even more strange was that Monica was a chef. I wondered how a fat person even begins to go down the line of controlling the thing they've had an addiction and emotional attachment to enough to spend all day in the kitchen. Even in the last few seasons, Monica never was able to conquer that hard-wired food drive, but being the uber control freak she became (and I often wonder if this was a result of losing the weight) I think being in control of the food (and the exercise) helped her get to the point where she could somehow find some kind of balance, even if it made her crazy neurotic.
I've been cooking a lot in the last several months. When I had to stop to go back in the box for six weeks, it really freaked me out. Cooking has become therapeutic. I like to research what I make, plan meals and create them. Sure, I'm no Remy from Ratatouille, but I like the consistency. Maybe some day I'll get creative enough to figure out what will taste good together without needing a recipe. But I now understand Monica's career choice.
When I got back out of the box, I started baking bread. Mostly because MacTroll won't eat the low-calorie sliced bread that I bring home. I thought it would be cheaper. And it is in a way, but it's not any better for him. My problem is that as I experiment trying to find a lower calorie, higher fiber bakery bread that he'll willingly consume -- I've been watching my good bread (that he won't willingly consume because it's brown) go to waste -- and so I use it on my sandwiches or with my soup. But truthfully things with flour in them are a trigger food. I need less bread in the house, not more.
So what to do? I have a husband who is a sandwich freak. And usually my response is, "He lives out of this house two weeks a month, he can get sandwiches out there..." But at the same time, white bread isn't on his recommended food list, but he's a big boy that makes his own choices.
Do I just buy what fits into my list and disregard the pleading for white bread? I mean, we're already starting to get used to having less food around the house due to the change in our budget. Is it wrong to also use the budget to not buy anything on a regular basis that doesn't have a food is fuel mentality?
Because the truth is, I don't really believe that. I love my cooking. It's a passion. But maybe I can use that power for some kind of good moderation? Any ideas?
As for now, just so you know, MacTroll is Joey in that clip above. :-)
But what struck me as even more strange was that Monica was a chef. I wondered how a fat person even begins to go down the line of controlling the thing they've had an addiction and emotional attachment to enough to spend all day in the kitchen. Even in the last few seasons, Monica never was able to conquer that hard-wired food drive, but being the uber control freak she became (and I often wonder if this was a result of losing the weight) I think being in control of the food (and the exercise) helped her get to the point where she could somehow find some kind of balance, even if it made her crazy neurotic.
I've been cooking a lot in the last several months. When I had to stop to go back in the box for six weeks, it really freaked me out. Cooking has become therapeutic. I like to research what I make, plan meals and create them. Sure, I'm no Remy from Ratatouille, but I like the consistency. Maybe some day I'll get creative enough to figure out what will taste good together without needing a recipe. But I now understand Monica's career choice.
When I got back out of the box, I started baking bread. Mostly because MacTroll won't eat the low-calorie sliced bread that I bring home. I thought it would be cheaper. And it is in a way, but it's not any better for him. My problem is that as I experiment trying to find a lower calorie, higher fiber bakery bread that he'll willingly consume -- I've been watching my good bread (that he won't willingly consume because it's brown) go to waste -- and so I use it on my sandwiches or with my soup. But truthfully things with flour in them are a trigger food. I need less bread in the house, not more.
So what to do? I have a husband who is a sandwich freak. And usually my response is, "He lives out of this house two weeks a month, he can get sandwiches out there..." But at the same time, white bread isn't on his recommended food list, but he's a big boy that makes his own choices.
Do I just buy what fits into my list and disregard the pleading for white bread? I mean, we're already starting to get used to having less food around the house due to the change in our budget. Is it wrong to also use the budget to not buy anything on a regular basis that doesn't have a food is fuel mentality?
Because the truth is, I don't really believe that. I love my cooking. It's a passion. But maybe I can use that power for some kind of good moderation? Any ideas?
As for now, just so you know, MacTroll is Joey in that clip above. :-)
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Verklempt
I had this weird emotion today as I was driving away from the consignment store. It was suddenly hard to breathe, and I felt like someone had gone into my heart with a scalpel and cut out a piece. I hit the call button and dialed MacTroll.
My call made him walk out of his meeting. But I was thankful that he picked up.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I feel good and terrible about what I just did. So I'm just going to tell you."
"Okay."
"I took the baby jogger into consignment. The good news is that we have a big open space in the garage. The bad news is -- I'm sad that he's not a baby any more." And then my nose started to run and my eyebrows pushed together. I felt like some sort of terrible traitor.
This didn't happen when I got rid of the exersaucer or when we took down the crib or when I got rid of all of his infant clothes. All of that went off without a hitch. But today I got emotional. It's a sure sign that X-man's birthday is coming up. I busy myself with all the preparing and talking with him about what he'd like to do for his birthday (go to the Bloomington Children's Museum and then come home and go out to dinner and see Dora at the Assembly Hall). I think it's just a way for me not to have to think about the fact that my baby is definitely a big boy. It works -- because after our talk at bedtime last night X-man told me he doesn't want to think about it either.
My call made him walk out of his meeting. But I was thankful that he picked up.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I feel good and terrible about what I just did. So I'm just going to tell you."
"Okay."
"I took the baby jogger into consignment. The good news is that we have a big open space in the garage. The bad news is -- I'm sad that he's not a baby any more." And then my nose started to run and my eyebrows pushed together. I felt like some sort of terrible traitor.
This didn't happen when I got rid of the exersaucer or when we took down the crib or when I got rid of all of his infant clothes. All of that went off without a hitch. But today I got emotional. It's a sure sign that X-man's birthday is coming up. I busy myself with all the preparing and talking with him about what he'd like to do for his birthday (go to the Bloomington Children's Museum and then come home and go out to dinner and see Dora at the Assembly Hall). I think it's just a way for me not to have to think about the fact that my baby is definitely a big boy. It works -- because after our talk at bedtime last night X-man told me he doesn't want to think about it either.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Confessions of a Grumpy Woman
No one wants to hear a rich girl talk about being on a budget.
No one wants to hear a skinny girl talk about her weight worries.
No one wants to hear the friend whose always got the time and the inclination for sex with her/his significant other gush about how great it is.
No one wants to hear that you get to go on a fabulous vacation when others are stuck in their homes paying back debt.
No one wants to hear that you've got all kinds of life skills that they don't have.
No one wants to hear that you're endlessly remodeling your home.
No one wants to hear that your kid is some kind of cognitive or artistic genius.
No one wants to hear that you came into money due to the generosity of a family member.
We say we're happy for you. But really we're envious.
We want to be happy for you, but we just can't get past the fact that we've got to work harder to have less than you.
My cheeks are red with jealousy.
Are yours?
No one wants to hear a skinny girl talk about her weight worries.
No one wants to hear the friend whose always got the time and the inclination for sex with her/his significant other gush about how great it is.
No one wants to hear that you get to go on a fabulous vacation when others are stuck in their homes paying back debt.
No one wants to hear that you've got all kinds of life skills that they don't have.
No one wants to hear that you're endlessly remodeling your home.
No one wants to hear that your kid is some kind of cognitive or artistic genius.
No one wants to hear that you came into money due to the generosity of a family member.
We say we're happy for you. But really we're envious.
We want to be happy for you, but we just can't get past the fact that we've got to work harder to have less than you.
My cheeks are red with jealousy.
Are yours?
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