My weight loss battle trudges on.
The scale is going down,
But at an agonizingly slow pace.
At this rate, I should be thin by the summer of ’09.
I’ve tried to do it without exercise.
My head told me “No, don’t do it”
But my ass is yelling “Get off of me!”
The scale is my only voice of reason.
So today I joined the gym.
Not just any old gym…
Planet Fitness.
Their business model rocks.
The philosophy they adhere to is that they are a “Judgment Free Zone”.
Everyone is welcome and made to feel like they belong.
The free weights for instance, only go up to 80lbs.
Body builder gym rats need not apply.
This place is for the fatties.
Besides every other contraption known to man,
Planet Fitness offers 30 minute circuit training.
I believe this was designed specifically for people like me; the attention span challenged. .
Leave me alone to get through a series of machines and I can lollygag with the best of them.
I go at my own leisurely pace and rarely break a sweat.
With the circuit training system, green light means go,
The red light means stop and move on to the next machine.
20 stations in 30 minutes…
You’re in, you’re out, and you’re home.
But here’s the best part!
Monday night is Pizza night,
And Tuesday morning you get free bagels!!!
All for $10 bucks a month, no contracts.
As my friend Dini used to say…
“What a deal!”
Ever talk in your sleep so loud that you wake yourself up?
I woke both Mike and myself up last night with my nonsensical chatter.
I was dreaming that a man kept trying to break into our home.
It was a very repetitive dream.
The guy would approach the house, activate the motion detector lights (which we don’t even own), then he’d retreat.
The lights would then turn off, and he’d come back and try again.
And again.
And again.
Sadly, it is clear; Even in my dreams, I have absolutely no patience.
In the beginning of my dream sequence, I was terrified.
Shortly thereafter, I became annoyed.
Quickly, this led to being downright pissed.
I subsequently turned the tables on Billy-Bad-Ass.
The next time he approached our front door,
I yanked it open with a crazed look in my eyes and scared the Be-Jesus out of him.
“Take that you asshole” I hollered, as he was scampering down our driveway.
Last I saw of him he was screaming like a schoolgirl and holding onto his crotch.
Needless to say, Mikey was not amused by my outburst.
I however caught a major case of the giggles and could not stop laughing.
This further annoyed Mike,
Which of course intensified my giggles.
Silencing your laughter is never a good idea.
It only gets worse.
I literally laughed myself back to sleep last night.
It was an awesome sensation.
I sure hope that little guy comes back to me in my dreams tonight.
Maybe this time I’ll laugh my ass off.
Literally.
Or at least two sizes of it!
My niece’s son Dakoda is an Elmo freak.
So when I heard the new 10th anniversary “Tickle Me Elmo” was being unveiled on Tuesday, I made a mental note to pick one up if I was out and about.
Christmas is after all just 3 months away.
Sure enough I found myself driving past a Target Tuesday morning.
I stopped in and headed right for the toy department.
2 stockmen were setting up an Elmo display.
“Do you have the new Tickle Me Elmo or am I too late” I asked.
“I haven’t seen him” the one guy told me.
“Would they be by the stuffed animals?”
He shrugged.
“Well he’s here somewhere, your Sunday ad said so and you better find him because there are going to be hordes of people here any minute fighting for one!” I insisted.
Clearly unmoved by my Elmo enthusiasm, he shrugged again as he continued to unload the discreet boxes.
“What’s in the box?” I asked him.
“Don’t know” he said.
“Well let’s take a look.”
“Can’t”.
“Why not?”
“It’s top secret”.
Aha!!!
“It’s HIM isn’t it? Elmo is in the box!”
“I don’t know Mam”
Arghhhhhhhhhh!!!
The packaging on this box is unbelievable.
There is no way to see what’s inside.
If you try to open it, Elmo’s squeaky little voice scolds “No peeking”!
I took a leap of faith and bought one.
It was $39.99
40 bucks I paid for a box and I don’t really know what’s inside of it.
I’m not sure what that says about us as consumers, but I’m pretty sure it’s not flattering.
So you can imagine my glee this morning when I heard Matt Lauer telling America that the new “Tickle Me Elmo” is sold out in stores but are now selling online for 200 bucks!
Somehow, I feel redeemed.
Go Elmo, you fuzzy little freak…
Go!
It’s a big-time buyers market out there.
So what makes someone choose one house over another?
The floor plan?
The school district?
The neighborhood?
My guess would be one of the above.
But our buyer Kristi, a divorced Mom with a 3 year old had different priorities.
Hailing originally from Wisconsin,
She walked into our “Garden Gate” living room (green),
Which was right off of our “Golden Fleece” dining room (yellow),
And one thing came to mind…
The Green Bay Packers!
She felt home, she told us.
Our color scheme sealed the deal.
Unbelievable!
The Pack is back?
Hell I don’t know.
They’re off to an ugly 0 and 2 start this season.
But they’ve also got a couple of new fans cheering them on down in KC.
Go Green Bay.
The Dig - A type of shot players use when receiving a serve or playing a hard, low hit ball.
The Set - An overhead pass in which the setter directs the ball upward with a high arc toward front-line players at the net.
The Spike - The most aggressive shot in the game. The spike is a powerful overhand smash into the opposite court performed by front-line players.
I’m brushing up on my Volleyball lingo.
Jordie made the school team this year and as I sat through her first game yesterday, it became clear to me…
I don’t know squat about volleyball.
But what I do know is that I’m LOVIN this game.
It’s fast paced, physical, and best of all, played indoors!
Eat your hearts out Soccer Moms!
The second best thing?
We don’t live in Indy anymore where I used to have to shout “Go Trojans!”
We’re the much more respectable “Thunderbirds” now.
Go T-Birds.
Ace it! (A serve that is neither touched nor returned by the receiving team. It scores an immediate point for the serving team.)
Yeah.
I’m digging it.
2001
Deep pain.
Deep Anguish.
Deep Fear.
2006
Deep pain.
Deep Anguish.
Deep Fear.
Lest we never forget?
I don’t think so.
I’m a light sleeper.
At times, even a non-sleeper.
Last night…
I must have been OUT!
I roll into the kitchen this morning at some un-Godly hour in search of a cup of Joe.
Instead, I found a 9x13 glass Pyrex baking dish shattered into a million tiny little pieces all over the floor.
How does this happen?
And even more puzzling, who doesn’t HEAR a glass Pyrex dish crashing to the floor in the middle of the night!
For the record…
There was only glass on the floor.
Not a trace of the brownies was present.
Say it with me folks…
TUCKER.
I am now officially in the “Tucker Must Die Camp”.
That dog has screwed me over one too many times.
He’s in a bad place now.
I was his only ally in the entire house!
Fucker.
There.
I said it.
I needed to run to the store.
We’re low on eggs.
Jordan wanted to come.
“No” I told her.
“I’ll just be gone a minute.”
She insisted on coming.
Arghhh!
Then my bright idea hit.
“You run in and get the eggs; I’ll run over to McDonalds and get my nightly 3 point ice cream cone.” I said.
“Then I’ll come back and get you.”
Deal.
I dropped her off at the store and drove across the parking lot to Mickey D’s.
I ordered my vanilla cone,
All was right with the world.
Until I got home.
My phone was ringing relentlessly.
They’d hang up and call right back.
I finally picked that phone up loaded for bear.
I am on Weight Watchers!
I don’t get too many culinary pleasures.
My nightly ice cream cone is it!
WHO keeps calling?
“Hello Mom?
Where are you?”
Shit!
“Mom…tell me you didn’t forget me.”
Shit!
“MOM. I am so telling Dad.
I can’t believe you forgot me!”
“Baby…now don’t be that way.
I only get 20 points a day.
That’s like 1000 calories.
My brain is shutting down.
I can’t be held responsible.
Come on…
I’ll buy you an ice cream cone!”
You should have seen “the look” I got when I drove back up to get her.
Something tells me this isn’t going away anytime soon.
And it’s going to cost me a lot more than an ice cream.
A young ventriloquist is touring the clubs and one night, he's doing a show in a small town in Arkansas. With his dummy on his knee, he starts going through his usual dumb blonde jokes when a blonde woman in the 4th row stands on her chair and starts shouting: "I've heard enough of your stupid blonde jokes! What makes you think you can stereotype women that way? What does the color of a person's hair have to do with her worth as a human being? It's guys like you who keep women like me from being respected at work and in the community and from reaching our full potential as a person. Because you and your kind continue to perpetuate discrimination against not only blondes, but women in general...and all in the name of humor!The embarrassed ventriloquist begins to apologize, and the blonde yells,"You stay out of this mister! I'm talking to that little shit on your knee."Ba-da-bing! (Thanks Bob)
Or so they say.
Yesterday, the Landcruiser was violated.
The roof on the Indiana house, we also found out, is toast.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t waiting for the 3rd shoe to drop.
The good news?
It wasn’t a shoe. (Hate to waste a good designer shoe!)
The bad…
It was a rock.
BAM!
Into the Yukon’s windshield.
CRACK!
Right up the middle.
Do bad things come in 3’s?
Apparently trivial little inconveniences do.
But Mike flew safely to this week’s destination.
TC made an appearance at Jordie’s first volleyball game.
And Grandpa Ken’s new pacemaker seems to be doing the tick, um trick..
For this, I’m grateful.
All that other stuff?
It just provides me with some good blogging material and a laugh!
And maybe a little heartburn.
Last night, as I was tucking Nicholas into bed, I told him I would make him a “better breakfast” in the morning.
With all the early commotion yesterday, I forgot to wake him up for school, much less feed him.
Out the door he ran in the knick of time with a cereal bar in his face.
This morning, I went in to wake him.
I was rubbing his back and smooching his face when one eye opened and he said…
“Mom, where’s my bed and breakfast?”
“Bed and Breakfast?” I asked.
“Yeah, you told me you’d make me bed and breakfast.”
Haaaaa!!!
After I finished laughing my ass off, I explained to him I was making him a “better breakfast”, not a breakfast in bed!
Truth is…
There probably will come a day in that kids life when someone serves him breakfast in bed.
But I think my initial reaction made it clear.
It won’t be me!
And pulling the covers up over my head!
Mike and I were startled from a sound sleep this morning by what sounded to be a small explosion.
There was a big loud boom followed by the sound of shattering glass and twisting metal.
I jumped out of bed to take a look…
Holy crap!
Someone hit the back of Mikey’s Landcruiser, first smashing the back rear, then riding it all along the side, taking out the mirror, both fenders and the front bumper.
It was a doozie.
But the poor kid, his truck was a total mess.
His wheel came off the axle, his front passenger side is all but gone, the radiator was unceremoniously spewing crap everywhere, AND his sister was yelling at him!
Then he had to call his parents!
The kids were not hurt, except for their egos.
Mike did his best to find the humor in it all.
And then the phone rang.
Caller I.D. said it was Farmers Insurance.
Man…they’re good!
How did they know?
Wrong Farmers.
This was Farmers in Indy.
Apparently there was a humongo storm in our (Indy) neighborhood and our roof is totaled.
Ten more lousy days and we were free of that joint.
Now we need a new roof.
In 10 days or the buyer is out.
I’ve got a few phone calls to make.
A) Tow truck
B) Body shop
C) Roofing Contractor.
Then I’m going back to bed.
Or mixing myself a stiff drink. One of the two.
But enough about me,
How’s YOUR day going?!?
This month marks my one year anniversary into the Blogosphere.
Who knew I had such stamina!
Originally, my blog was just a silly (and lazy) way to keep in touch with family and friends.
Since I had just moved to Indiana where I knew no one, it quickly became clear to me that I’d have to entertain myself.
Luckily for me, I am easily amused!
I basically started recanting (Cant…ChrissyCan Cant…get it?) my daily life.
Mike was living in Kentucky at the time; the kids were in school all day,
So I spent a lot of time alone.
Obviously!
Often, I’d find humor in the mundane.
“A Day in My Life” is how it all began last September.
I was so in awe of that woman at Target, I came home and wrote about her.
I sent it out in an email to various friends.
To my surprise, several responses came back, most saying they thought it was a hoot and would it be ok to forward it on.
So I would write a story and then email it.
Write another story, email it.
“Musings” is what I called them at the time.
The problem with that process was I always felt it was somewhat invasive sending them via email.
Not everyone, in fact most people don’t give a rat’s ass about your (my) day.
Then some genius friend of mine suggested a Blog.
“That puts the reader in control” he said.
“They can either log on and read it, or not.”
I felt much more comfortable with that format.
Now I only had to figure out what a Blog was and how to get one!
That proved not too difficult and here it is a year later and I’m still blogging.
Although fun and light in the beginning, sadly the blog took on a much more serious tone after the first of the year when I learned within weeks of each other that my sister TC’s cancer had returned and my friend Dini was diagnosed with liver cancer.
Then the blog truly became a means of communication and an obvious outlet for my fears, anger and frustrations.
Dini, most of you know, passed away in July. TC is still fighting.
Last month, I made a conscious decision to try and bring the “funny” back into my blog.
Some days are easier than others because let’s face it,
Some days are funnier than others.
I’ve got to hold on to them when I can.
So thanks to all of you, my loyal readers (whoever you are!)
I get a kick out of doing it,
And I assume you must get something out of reading it.
I hope I’m still blogging in another year,
And that the funny days way out weigh the bummers.
My only criticism…
HOW ABOUT SOME FRIGGIN COMMENTS!
I read other people’s Blogs (DadGoneMad)
They get tons of comments.
And they’re NOT anonymous.
Often they make up names (HotWife, WonderSis), I don’t care.
“Anonymous” just weirds me out.
Work with me here folks.
It’s lonely at the top!!!
Mom just brought TC over.
It was sad.
She’s so depressed, she just cries.
I could not find any words to comfort her.
Nothing worked.
They didn’t stay long.
TC quickly becomes exhausted.
I walked them out to the car.
Then I dug way down deep into my box of tricks.
As they were backing out of my driveway…
I mooned them!
TC’s mouth dropped open and my mother squealed like a school girl.
Game on.
Next I flashed them before they had time to recover from my first assault.
The last I saw of them they were both howling.
A little indignant on my part?
Perhaps.
But I got TC to laugh!
Not.
There is nothing “stay at home” about a “Stay at home Mom” (SAHM).
So far this morning…
I’ve welcomed another child into our home at 6:45 a.m. (!!!) so his parents could go away on their little anniversary LOVE trip to Chicago.
You listening Mikey?
I’ve run Nick to school to participate in some “before school” activity.
There’s a perfectly good waste of my Bus money.
Jordan has, once again, forgotten her homework that she “HAS TO HAVE BY SECOND HOUR MOM!”
And I’ve run to Target to pick up a birthday gift that I’ve known I’ve needed for 2 weeks now but as usual, have procrastinated.
The party is right after school, so I’m out at the crack of dawn. (Ok, 8ish)
I’m home just long enough to swallow another pot of coffee before I hit the road again to do the things other people need me to do for them.
(Because I’m a SAHM!)
Stay at home Mom?
My ass!
