Superfluous Fluff

2011 Thoughts and One Little Word

Two posts in two days?  Could it be?

As you could tell if you took the time to read yesterday's post (or even just to scroll down and down and down and down), 2010 was overwhelming for me.

Most days I feel like I've been steamrollered.

I'm a simple girl. 

I have simple goals and simple dreams. 

I get easily flustered and frazzled. 

I need plans and schedules and predictability in my life.

I like to feel connected and inspired.  Part of this reveals itself in the large number of blogs in my google reader.  Those blogs fall mainly into two groupings:

1. Photographers and/or scrapbookers and other creatives whose work brings a smile to my lips and awe to my heart and
2. Super moms who have large numbers of children whom they teach, craft with, create with and prepare lavish and nutritious meals for in their beautifully decorated and perfectly organized homes.

I am not those women.

Attempting to be those women makes me tired and discouraged and grumpy.  Attempting to be those women feeds depression and discouragement and often leads to a paralyzing inability to do anything because I know I'll never be able to do it as well as them. 

I need to stop biting off more than I can chew, stop suffering from the-grass-is-always-greener-syndrome and stop judging myself based on impossible and imaginary standards.   I need to be kinder to myself, to drop perfectionism and set my own standards--attainable standards.  I need to stop scrambling for more and more and more and take time to give thanks for what I have.

Dreams are good but guess what?

So is reality.

At one point this fall I was lying in my bed weeping, swamped by a wave of grief and loss.  Out of the silence of the night and through my open window came the mournful call of a loon on the lake and it suddenly came to me in a rush of peace and love that I was living my lifelong dream.  I am living in a home in the country, by a lake, in the type of community where people support and encourage one another and everyone knows your name.  I have a husband whom I not only love but like and admire, who makes me want to be better every day and somehow knows what I need and tries to provide it for me.   He has a good job that provides for our needs and he's willing to work hard and make sacrifices so that I can stay home and make a career out of being a mom.  I have 3 beautiful, smart, talented, healthy children who make me laugh at least as often as they make me want to scream.   My God is good and merciful and answers my prayers, even when He does not answer them in the way I wanted or expected. 

This is the dream of my childhood, my youth and my single days.

I AM LIVING MY DREAM.

So I don't have a beautifully decorated home that could be on HGTV.  So I get behind.  So I'm a crappy housekeeper (probably good that I don't have that beautifully decorated home if I'm just going to let the dust pile up).  So I yell at my kids more than I wish I did.  So I haven't sent out Christmas cards in 5 years (or is it 6?).  So I'm not rich.  So I've put on some weight.  So I'd rather spend an hour with a good book--and I prefer Romance Novels to non-fiction.

So what?

I've decided 2011 is my time to finally find balance.  To change the things I can and accept the things I can't.  To let go of the guilt.  To make small and specific goals and take the time to celebrate when I meet them.  To be less rushed.  To be less busy.  To complain less.  To practice saying "no" when it needs to be said.  To be more patient.  To be more understanding.  To be more grateful.  To be more happy. 

This year I'm joining the One Little Word movement and plan to focus on my word in a big way.

My word for 2011 is:

Rejoice.  Rejoice.  Rejoice.

I will rejoice every day; even when the day hasn't gone well. 

I will rejoice out loud and I will rejoice softly in my heart.

I will rejoice in life and love, in rainbows and dandelions.

I will keep a gratitude journal, for there is much to be grateful for and I believe that gratitude and rejoicing are Siamese twins.

I will rejoice in the great and the small, in my triumphs, in the triumphs of my children, in the triumphs of my friends and the triumphs of strangers. 

I will rejoice despite depression, grief and pain, focusing on the joys of the things and experiences and people life has sent to me instead of mourning their loss.  I believe that there is a purpose to it all and trust that all will be revealed.  I have learned that time is fleeting and I will rejoice in my faith that one day our sicknesses will be healed, our tears dried and our loved ones returned to us.

I will Rejoice in my God.  I will rejoice in your God.  I will rejoice in goodness wherever it can be found--and I will seek that goodness. 

I am thankful to be called to work with the youth in our church right now.  Our church's theme for our youth for 2011 is our 13th Article of Faith, which is

"We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men; indeed, we may say that we follow the admonition of Paul--We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things and hope to be able to endure all things.  If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things."

I rejoice in the opportunity to focus on these ideas this year and to honour the amazing youth I know who embrace these ideals.  I will be seeking after these things and rejoicing in them. 

I plan to share my progress with you and hope you will rejoice with me. 

Happy 2011!  Rejoice!

So this is what you do all day?

Life is crazy.

The girls are involved in Guides/Brownies on Tuesday evenings, Princess has piano on Wednesdays, The Boy is off to Beavers on Thursdays and Friday is our library night.  We are all (except Hubby) singing in our community Christmas Cantata again this year, and the children have been asked to sing at church for Christmas so we're practicing their song, and of course there's homework and chores and piano practice and so forth.

As for myself, in addition to trying to figure out the ins and outs of a new business (every day I learn something new!) I am a unit Guider, the YW secretary for our ward, volunteer in Sweetpea's classroom every Thursday, and am secretary of both the PSSC and Home and School.  There's the never-ending laundry pile, the dishes and the cooking and the cleaning, head chauffeur and--OH YEAH--that Christmas thing is looming. 

I've been feeling stretched so thin lately.  I love everything I do, I'm just still trying to figure out how to do it all, and forgive myself for the many mistakes I make along the way.

This weekend our fridge died (sort of--long story) and I spent most of Monday trying to defrost it and throwing out rotten food.  On Tuesday I spent a bunch of time scrubbing it and all of its components before plugging it back in and hoping for the best (it seems to be working again--for now).  This while running errands in the village and prepping for our Guide meeting that night. Of course both days I spent lots of time online as well, trying to keep up with pending deliveries/edits/blog posts/galleries.

On Wednesday I got up early to do some business work, got the kids up and off to school,took out the trash, and then did some more work before grabbing a quick shower and loading up to go do a photo shoot in the big city.  I also picked up Advent calendars for the kids, filled the car with gas and topped up the windshield washer fluid (which necessitated an emergency stop at the mechanic's when I couldn't find the hood handle--it broke off a couple of years ago and I had forgotten--I had to get them to show me where the little stub was and get the vicegrips out to pop the hood).  I got home 10 minutes before the school bus arrived with the realization that I hadn't eaten anything yet that day, so I made myself some toast and peanut butter and flicked on the tv to decompress a little, all while keeping one eye out the window so I could be in the doorway when the bus pulled up. 

And then the kids were home.  I greeted them with the usual joy and kisses and then sat down to eat my "meal". 

That's when Sweetpea snuggled up beside me, looked at me with her big eyes and most serious expression and said:

"So this is what you do all day?  Just sit and watch tv?  It's probably why you're getting fat."

Laugh or cry?

PS--I asked what she thought Hubby did all day and she said "do work on the computer at his office and go to meetings".   {sigh}

By Request: Wish List 3

As soon as the Princess heard that Sweetpea had finally gotten her wish list scanned and blogged she ran to produce her own (hidden under her bed).  She requests equal treatment. 

For your amusement: My kids are so awesome with their organizational skillz.  I'm very proud. 

By Request: Wish List 2

What Grandma is really after is a wish list from Hubby and I.

This is going to be very, very long and you may want to skim or skip (unless you're Grandma).

Grandma (aka my mom) gives great gifts.  Gift giving is, in fact, her main love language.  She rocks at it.  Christmas in our house growing up was always pretty dang miraculous.  Even when times were tight, there was always at least one special thing that was exactly what you wanted.  My Mom? Santa Claus.  Seriously.  But even Santa enjoys having a nice list to use as her starting point for ideas. 

Here are the problems with that:

a.) Gift reception is NOT Hubby's love language.  It continues to be a completely foreign language to him.  I'm not sure he'll ever learn to speak it, and he thinks those who do speak it are a wild and wacky alien culture. (You guys know about love languages, right?  Or am I a wild and wacky alien?)  When Grandma calls wanting a Christmas list from the grown-ups, she mostly means she needs one for Hubby.  And then Hubby gets all baffled about this wish list thing (Hubby also does not really collect "stuff") and puts me off (why am I always the middle man?).  And then Grandma gets frustrated because she has no idea what to give Hubby, and she NEEDS to give him something, or how will he know he's loved?  Cycle of crazy.  Dog chasing tail.  Exercise in futility.

b.) We are broke.  Reality check, folks.   This recession, combined with a two-year wage freeze, combined with a complete re-organization of Hubby's company (it's technically a new company now) that leads to no performance reviews, which leads to no wage adjustments, has got us feeling the pinch.  Add to that a crazy wife who goes a little nutty in the spending department this summer as a way of coping with grief. (Turns out when I'm sad I eat.  And food?  EXPENSIVE.)  Then crazy wife goes and starts a new business.  Which is the long way of saying....Christmas?  Very, very, VERY low-key this year.  I'm still trying to figure out how Santa is going to make it.  We're scrambling to give our kids a few small things*.  Everyone else is off the Christmas list.  We just can't afford to give you anything more than a big hug or words of love and appreciation (both sincerely given).

That was before our computer died and we had to dip into our emergency fund to replace it. 

Also, our fridge is acting very strangely and may need life support.

2010 is not going on my life list of favourite years. 

(*Yes, I know Christmas isn't about gifts.  But I enjoy having them be a part of our celebrations.  Some things rub off on you.  And I have at least one child whose love language is gifts.  I wish to give them.)

So, wish list.

Here goes:

1) I was so very completely serious when I said we'd like it if you got yourself something great and considered it from us.  It hurts me that I can't give you much of anything this year (or last) and I know it hurts you.  I feel guilty and sad.  So really, take the money you would have spent on us and get yourself something awesome that you wouldn't have treated yourself to otherwise.  Tickets to a show, a pretty new outfit, couples massage, dinner out...we're not picky.  These are all things we wish we could gift to you.  Or here, this is something I think you'd enjoy! From us to you!  Merry Christmas!

Give yourself (and your Terry-Bear) something absolutely perfect and then tell us all about how much you enjoyed it.  The gift of not feeling guilty is what I want for Christmas this year (and the gift of not listening to me complain about how I feel guilty is what Hubby really, REALLY wants).   A little holiday peace can last for years.

2)  Spoil the grandkids!  They love it.  We don't mind.  In fact, once again, less guilt for us!  (But remember that peace part.  I'm still not sure I can forgive you for those singing Dora Dolls.)

3) Pay it forward.  Christmas is about giving and we might be feeling pulled but all of our complaints are definitely 1st-world ones.  We have a home and heat and food.  How about sponsoring a child, buying a goat (or BUNNIES), adopting a tiger, making a business loan, or something else equally good?

4) Cold hard cash.  See (b) above.  Also, fridge and dishwasher dying.  Gift cards are also lovely.  Atlantic Superstore, the eeee-vil Wal-marts, Chapters, Micheal's, Canadian Tire....we're not picky!  

5) A winning lottery ticket.  We'd totally share. 

6) I know.  Number 4 goes against everything you are.  I have the "gift cards show a lack of thoughtfulness" speech memorized.  I was just messing with you (but they totally save on shipping costs).  I also know you're going to ignore #1 and #2 and phone me back looking for the real list.  Here are some "you're going to bug me until I come up with something" suggestions.

;)

• Food.  Hubby has a weakness for real maple syrup.  I have a weakness for chocolate-anything.  We both love cashews.  Mostly anything in the Insider's Report has us perked up with interest.  Nibbles and treasures that are totally not good for us are very popular around here with every age demographic.   Home-baked goodies are VERY popular.
• Tongs.  My kitchen is without them.  I use a fork or my fingers (ouch).  They would be a welcome addition.  The kids might enjoy a cheese slicer.  They use a knife now but they cut the cheese VERY thick and it makes me crazy. 
• Very soft blankets.  We like to snuggle up around here.  There is also fort building occurring with surprising regularity.  Also?  Really nice blankets get put away for me to use as back-drops for business.
• Socks.  Dressy, silly, soft, seasonal.  We don't all love socks, but we all feel that if we have to wear  them, they should be fun.  (Last year you gave the Boy Christmas socks and he delighted in wearing them still in June.  He thought it was hilarious and always walked around with a smile on his face when wearing Christmas socks.  He has worn them out.  They are now holy socks.)
• Books.  Feed my JD Robb addiction!  I also missed these two (I have the second two in the quartet).  I'd also love to get the current issue of CK (it comes with a cd) or a subscription to Scrapbooks Etc.  I could go on and on and on with my wish list in that area.  I'm not sure what Hubby is reading right now, but both Chapters and amazon.ca may as well be on a direct deposit for us.  That's where the mad money goes!  (You asked which fairy books the girls have: they have (or will receive for Christmas) most rainbow, party, pet, dance and Christmas fairies.  Princess also has Mia the Bridesmaid fairy.)
• Snow brush for my car.  Actually, I may have to buy this for myself very soon and call it my own Christmas present.
• Rechargable batteries (AA).
• Charging dock for the Wii Remotes
• Charger for Wii Fit board (we had one but the Boy broke it).
• Wii games (sensing a theme?)  The kids are obsessed with anything with the Mario characters.
• Picture frames or photo center gift card (I like Blacks).  How sad is it that a scrapbooker/photographer hasn't printed any photos of her own in over a year?  SAD.
• Holiday decorations.  I rarely buy them for myself.  I always think of better things to spend money on.  But I like seeing my house all done up.  And not just for Christmas! (I bet Hallowe'en stuff is super cheap on clearance right now.)
• Photography silliness:  just about anything from this completely awesome website would make me a very happy girl.  You might even find some of these things elsewhere.  I would ADORE having this (Canon please), we'd all have fun with this, I could actually use this or this or this...this is trippy good fun, this makes me smile....oh, poke around.  It's all good! 

Ok, that's it.  I'm out of reasonable ideas (a deck!  a mini van!  5D Mark II!  Or 1D Mark III!  Or IV!  35mm f/1.4L!  24-70 f/2.8L!  85 1.2LII!) and this may win a record as the world's longest blog post. 

Love you Santa Mom, and kudos to anyone else who actually read all this.

Kids are Awesome

Early this morning;, sometime around 4:30-5:00, our cat decided that she couldn't stand being in this house one second longer and set up an incredible MROOOOOWing campaign to be let out.

I gave thought to letting her out and never, ever, ever letting her in again.  And maybe I gave thought to some creative but not remotely kind things to do with her before tossing her out.

Sweetpea, who is a sucker for any animal, calmly got up and, with a smile and happy pat, opened the door and let her out.  When she got back up the stairs, the Boy was waiting for her.  With a smile and a happy pat, they greeted each other and disappeared into his room to play.

They play together every morning actually, a couple of morning birds in a house of slow waking parents.  The Boy is usually the first up, and as soon as he was out of a crib and in a bed we taught him to turn on his light and shut his door and play quietly.  His usual wake-up is somewhere around 6, sometimes closer to 5:30, occasionally closer to 6:30.   Sweetpea wakes around 6:30 and knows he'll be up so slips right in to join him.  This morning was unusual only in that they were up so much earlier than the norm. 

I admit it, as I drifted back to sleep I was sure the next time I awoke it would be to fighting as those two would surely get sick of each other, but when I next awakened they were still at it, deep in their imaginary world that crosses Webkinz with Shining Stars with MarioParty with Littlest Pet Shop with whatever else crosses their incredibly flexible minds.  I listened to the happy chatter for a while and then reminded them that it was time to get ready for school. 

As they got ready they moved at warp speed, calling coversational tidbits to each other down the hallway from their respective closets.  As soon as Sweetpea was dressed she was back in her brother's room, knowing that he cares not one whit for modesty and can play and dress at the same time.  Somehow they moved downstairs as one, still in character (even if their character changes so fast sometimes that I wonder if they have a psychic connection to keep up with each other) and kept it up as I got breakfast ready.  They moved to the breakfast table, still playing.  At this point the Boy seemed to be a Zumbuddy and Sweetpea was a Shining Stars kitten.  My eavesdropping got a little better at this point and I was delighted to hear the following part of their conversation:

SP:  I'm going to watch a Shining Star movie tonight, would you like to join me?

B: No thanks!  I watched a Shining Star movie once and it was so sad, and much too scary for me.

SP:  Really?  I love Shining Star movies!  What was this one about?  Why was it scary?

B: There was a killer shark on the loose and it ate all the Zums and all the Webkinz and all the Shining Stars.  No one could escape!  It was terribly unhappy.   Well, it was a happy ending for the shark, but not for anyone else.

 

And this is why children rock. 

Outed

3 years.

For 3 years I've kept this blog, and for three years I've worried about internet safety.

When you're a mom, you worry.  You research, you worry, you plan, you worry, you make decisions, and then you worry some more.

(Please say it's not just me.)

I've kept my identity to myself, given my children and husband codenames, and kept my actual location as vague as possible. 

And now I'm outing myself.

Come see me over here.  Find out my real name and (eventually) location. 

Of all the hurdles and concerns of starting a new business, this is actually one of the most worrisome parts for me.  I wondered if I should make this blog, my personal blog, private, or even do away with it altogether. 

But I don't want to.

Every single reason I had for starting it still exists.  It's still my diary, my letters to home, my scrapbook and showcase and way of connecting with friends.

So I'll leave things as they are over here.  We'll stay chummy and unprofessional and full of TMI and rants and all the superfluous fluff that doesn't belong on a business site. 

I'm so glad you're here. 

Couch to 5K (C25K) Week One, Day One

You guys.

You guys.

That.  Was.  HARD.

What the sweet heck was I thinking?

Listen, I am not an athlete.  I have never been an athlete.  I was, for a while, a runner, but I ran on a track with friends and we rewarded ourselves with donuts after our run.  And it was in high school.  And it was never 5K. 

Lately I have been rocking the couch.  For the first 4 months of this year rather exclusively, because I was so sick.  There is a permanent Cole-sized imprint on our couch.  And we weren't strangers before or after. 

Which is part of why I find myself with many more pounds on my frame than I care for.

My life philosophy has generally been: why run when you can walk, why walk if you can stand, why stand if you can sit, why sit if you can lie down?

You think I'm using hyperbole, but I'm not.

I should probably be about 300 lbs with that life philosophy, but genetics have been good to me (Thanks Mom!  Thanks Dad!).  Still, since I hit 30 I've been packing the weight on at a rate of about 10lbs a year.  

I turn 33 in two months.

It needs to stop.

Plus, have you been following Cathy Z?  Very inspirational, and she makes it sound so simple.  Eat less, move more.  She's started a trend amongst my internet peeps and it's a good thing.

HA! 

Just because all your internet friends are doing something doesn't mean it's a good idea for you!

I'm not running with anyone or partnering with anyone, so I'm going to bore you with a little online rambling.  To make myself accountable to someone.  Because it helps.

So Friday I decided I was doing this thing and even blogged about it.  I was going to do it Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays and do yoga or Pilate's on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, giving me Sundays off.  Hubby came home Friday night and figured out the podcasts for me and loaded up the MP3 player.  I was good to go Saturday morning!  Yay!

Except...the kids and I went to the library Friday night.  And I started this book.  And I wanted to finish it.  And....

I never ran Saturday morning. 

But I had blogged about it, and I had told friends about it at a baby shower, so I kind of felt like I had to do it.

Stuck.

Today is Tuesday, so I had to run.  Maybe. 

It was raining!  Maybe I should wait for a sunny day?

But no, I am fat and unfit, and was out of excuses.  I had the time, the gear, the podcast.  

And it stopped raining.

And I'd already told people I was doing it.

So I pulled on my sweats, tied on my sneakers, turned on the podcast, and swung out the door.

Here's how it went:

Brisk walk to warm up.  Awesome. I love a nice brisk walk.  Ok, the techno music is a little cheesy, but I like having a beat to pace to.

Woah!  5 minutes is up!  Time for my first 60 second run.

Oh... Crap...I'm jiggling everywhere.  I hope no one sees me.  I think I need a better bra.  And something for my butt.  Do they make bum bras?  What kind of underwear might hold some of the jiggling back?..Who cares?  I'm going to die... How did I get THIS out of shape?...If a bad guy jumped out of the bushes right now I'd be toast...Double crap...Now I'm hyperventilating...What the?  I know how to breathe!  This is ridiculous!  In, out.  In, out. Slow down lungs!..I'm going to die...Is it 60 seconds yet?..I'm itchy.  THIS is why I hate exercise.  I always get so itchy...I'm allergic to exercise...Maybe it's my MH?...No one else ever gets itchy when they exercise.  I know, I've polled people...Maybe I should have talked to the doctor before this bout of INSANITY...This is what comes of being a joiner!..Peer pressure...You should never give in to peer pressure.  You shouldn't try to be like the cool kids.  You're never going to be one of the cool kids....My legs!  They are shaking!..I'm going to fall down.  Down, down, down in the ditch, where I will die and they won't find my bones until spring...Is that a skunk?  I don't see it, just smell it.  That would cap it.  Sprayed by a skunk as I kill myself trying to run...I'm not going to make it.  I think I'm going to have to quit.  Maybe I should only do 30 seconds of running.  Maybe I should do Week One for 2 or 3 or 6 weeks before attempting Week Two...When did 60 seconds get so long?  I think podcast man forgot to tell me to stop.  I think this is a defective podcast.  This music sucks.  My ears hurt.  My...

YES!  I can walk again!  Ok, breathing good, pace good.  I survived! I'm a survivor! Hey, look at that!  I wish I had the camera...

Run again?  That SOOOOO wasn't 90 seconds!..Ok, in, out, in, out...Labour was easier than this...Car!  Try to look like you're not about to stop and puke in the bushes...You're not, are you?...No. Good thing you didn't eat breakfast!...But thirsty...So thirsty...Throat hurts...LIps cracking...Mouth dry...Water...Water...Why didn't I bring water?...If I see another runner, I'm punching him and taking his water...Who am I kidding? I don't think I have any energy to put behind the punch...And they could out run me.  EASY...Maybe I should stop at one of these houses and ask for a drink.  I've met most, er, some of these people before.  And everyone is always very nice.  It's a neighbourly sort of place.  They'd give me a little sip of water, surely?...Or maybe I should just run into the lake.  Then I could stop itching and have a drink...I wonder if I should drink the lake water though?  Is it safe?  Have there been tests?  Have...

Oh.  Walking again.  Wow.  That 60 seconds wasn't nearly as bad as the first!  Walking.  Brisk walk?  How about a stroll?  I can do a stroll, but I can't manage a brisk walk any more. 

And so on...I won't try to remember everything.  After that 2nd run interval my brain settled down and there was a lot less internal dialog.  Maybe it was a zen-like state of peace and focusing on my breathing.  More likely it was survival mode.  My running intervals turned into a slow jiggly jog, with lots of panting and the odd random thought like "why am I doing what this guy says?  who made him the boss of me".  My walking turned into a plod. I might have fallen down and crawled, except I was pretty sure my arms wouldn't hold me and I'd just fall on my face.  

The best moment probably came as I was walking home (cool down time) and spotted a bear track in the mud:  "Bear track?  Why didn't I see that on my way out?  Is it fresh?  If I'm going to be eaten by a bear, why can't it be at the start of this torture instead of the end?"

Ok, maybe that was the second best.  The best was when the skies opened up and it started raining on me as I ran. 

Thank you, Lord.  I needed that!

Eventually, I made it home, everything shaking, head light, ears sore, mouth dry.  I did some stretches, drank some water, had a shower, and wondered if I'd live to try again on Thursday.  

TO SUM UP:

Day One: Run complete. 

How I feel: Like a bowl full of jelly.  That someone keeps hitting with a spoon just to laugh at. 

Why I ran: Ultimately, because I told Hubby I was going to as he was leaving for work.  As soon as I told him, he got that gleam in his eye, and then bent close to whisper in my ear something about being all wet and...well, it was for my ears only.  But I haven't really seen that gleam in his eye of late.  That gleam propelled me straight down the road and kept me going instead of quitting.  If it was just for my health, I honestly think I would have given up.  But for that gleam I pushed forward.  For that gleam I think I'll be able to do it again on Thursday.  'Cause I kind of like that guy.  And that gleam.

Changes: I wish I'd started with a walking program before this C25K thing.  Because going directly from the couch to running?  Not good.  I'm going to add a daily walk in to my program, even on Sundays.  I'll keep going on the C25K, because, hey, I didn't die today.  And stopping will feel too much like quitting.  But I'll admit I worry about Thursday, when my muscles are sure to protest.  I may have to do Week One twice.  I'll decide after Saturday's run. Also, the eat less part needs to be re-evaluated.  I don't think just eating less is going to do it.  When I stripped off to get in the shower, I started gagging from the smell of my own sweat.  It was seriously nasty and did NOT smell healthy.  I think I may have to do a detox and then overhaul the entire diet.  Certainly less meat.

I have no idea how to end this giant ramble.  Thanks for listening.  Feel free to advise or commiserate in the comments.

Yum with a side of "My diet starts tomorrow"

I used to like to cook.

When I was a girl I'd take over the kitchen at lunch time, set it up nice, make elaborate menus for my brothers, and serve up the most beautifully presented plates of alphagetti or grilled cheese you could imagine.  It was fun and it gave me pleasure to see my brothers enjoying it and getting into character.

When I was a single gal with roommates, cooking was a release from studying and a joy, even a creative outlet.  I could let my mind drift as I chopped and stirred, or re-direct it as I taught myself something new.  And when you make a nice meal for your roommates, the reaction is always outrageously fun:  "WOW! Thanks!  You shouldn't have!".  Or even just "I'm so glad you cooked tonight.  I'm swamped.", as they gulp and go.  I loved the process, and the serving.  And the knowledge that some other night when I was busy, someone else would decide to head to the kitchen.  We watched each other's backs.

Then I got married.  To a guy who'll eat just about anything.  He does say thanks, but I get the same thanks for a sandwich as I get for a 5 course feast.  And I don't think it will come as a surprise to anyone that I'm lazy, and figure if he's good with the sandwich, why exert myself?  So cooking became more about me and less about the service.  And he rarely cooks--part of our pre-marriage agreement when we decided I'd be the SAHM and he'd be the earner.  Makes more sense for me to be the one to worry about the meals, right?  (Plus I might have gone on and on about how I LOOOOOOVE to cook! Someone slap that silly girl.) Couple that with 4 different bouts of "morning sickness" where I'd spend meal times heaving while begging him not to make anything too aromatic--the man doesn't volunteer for kitchen duty.

The kicker was having kids though.  Suddenly a pleasant activity that could be done at my leisure became a chore with a deadline.  Kids (my kids, anyway) are like ticking time bombs, and if you don't feed them regularly, they go off with a boom.  To add to the pleasure, the days of thanks were LOOOOOOOOOONG gone.  Now the response is "EWWWWW!!!  What is that?  Do we have to eat it?  Not ________ again!".  Coming up with nutritious, well-balanced meals?  Argh!  Not getting bored with my own stand-bys?  Ug!  Introducing something new to this group that suspects I'm trying to poison them?  Blerg!

(To give Hubby his due, he still says thanks.  And sometimes he throws in a little shoulder rub to show he means it.  I've got a great guy.)

So, cooking.  Not so fun anymore.

To compensate, I have a few helpers in my google reader.  There's Pioneer Woman, of course, who's meals always taste divine, but always take a bunch of work.  There's Laura, the Organizing Junkie, who's Menu-Plan Mondays have given me many an inspiration and the boost of knowing I'm not the only one who plans her menus out week by week. There's the Tasty Kitchen and allrecipes.com for tips and recipes when I need something new or forget something old.  And for fun, there's Half Assed Kitchen, which is my kind of cooking, with as many kitchen hacks and shortcuts as can be managed. 

So in the spirit of half-assed cooking, I need to tell you about supper last night. 

I baked a ham.

The end.

Ha ha!  Just kidding.  Sort of.  When I was growing up, half the plate was meat.  The entree was meat, and the rest of the meal was planned around it.  Meat, a starch (usually potatoes--my dad IS from Ireland), and a vegetable.  So my default meal planning setting?  What's my meat?  And I go from there.

So!  (I say that a lot!)

Baked ham!  What to have with it? Scalloped potatoes?  Too much work.  Mashed potatoes?  Too much work.  Rice?  Had it last night.  Pasta?  On the menu for tomorrow.   Skip the starch? 

Who am I kidding?

I found some lovely new potatoes in the bottom of the crisper, bought during last week's heat wave with the plan of making potato salad.  Which got scrapped because, hello?  HEAT WAVE.  Thew them in the pan with the ham.  Roast potatoes.

But then my inner child started whining.  It didn't want roast potatoes.  It was sick of roast potatoes.  Roasted potatoes and a Roasted ham?  BORING.

When the ham was ready I put it on the platter to be carved.  I scooped out the potatoes and then I grabbed the masher and squished them.  I didn't mash them properly, just broke them up, little skins and all.  Then I generously grated cheese over top, put spoonfuls of what was left of our sour cream, a little salt and pepper, and some Ready Bacon Bits that were forgotten in the back of the cupboard. 

It was SOOOOOO good.  So good.  Like the best baked potatoes, but I didn't have to figure out how long to bake them for.  They were perfect.  And they took me about 5 minutes, total.  10 if you include the 5 minutes it took me to turn on the oven, put the ham in the roasting pan, open the bag of potatoes and dump it around the ham, and stick the whole shebang in the oven. 

Easy, peasy. 

And YUM.

(And we had corn and carrots as well, nutrition police. I, in fact, mixed my corn in with my potatoes and had a merry old time.)

Anyone who's not dieting or lactose intolerant, feel free to steal my "recipe".

And if you have any quick meal ideas or kitchen hacks, please, PLEASE share them in the comments. 

Free me from my kitchen. 

**************

I just realized it's Wednesday.  And this post is the complete opposite of wordless.  I'm so sorry.  Maybe I'll get some pretty pictures up later to make it up to you.  Right now I have to take a pretty Princess to the orthodontist. 

Cravings

Ah, cravings.

You know you have them.

Sometimes it's a preference.  I usually have a dangerously fine tuned sweet tooth, but every now and then I don't want sweet, I want salty.  Or a big giant savoury salad.  It's all good. 

Once upon a time, I would get a low-grade craving for something, I would ignore it, it would pass.  I am master of my body!  Wahoo!!!

But the older I get, the stronger the cravings get.  Especially those once a month cravings.  Ladies.  You totally know what I'm talking about.  

And sometimes the cravings get all mixed up and bizarre.  I want salty AND sweet.  I want to dip my fries in my frosty, kwim?  The hormones, they make demands.

Resistance is futile*.

(Ok, not furtile, but frustrating.  There is no satisfaction gained from denying the craving.  Sometimes it feels good to give in.)

So when I went to PEI and one of the first things I saw were these, I squealed in delight (my mom can testify, she was with me).

A woman TOTALLY came up with this. You just know it.

Props to her.

And I must confess: I bought a package, just to try.  They were kind of meh.  Whatever.  Nothing to write home about.

But two days later, I NEEDED these.  They were all I could think about.  I HAD to go buy some and then I devoured them and enjoyed every single second.  And don't ask me to share.  They totally hit the spot in a way that nothing else could have.  MMMMMM.

So when I left the island I bought one last package.  And it was as good as the second one.

And now, approximately 28 days later, I woke up thinking about them.  In fact, it's all I can think about.

PEI. You islanders are GENIUS.

Just a thought?

Monthly subscriptions. 

The Difference between Boys and Girls

We're just recently home from a week on Prince Edward Island.

6 days, actually. 

In packing for the trip, I made sure each kiddo had 7 pairs of shorts, 7 T-shirts, 2 pairs of pants (for those chilly nights and rainy days), a warm sweater, pjs, swimsuits, rain gear, etc.

6 days, 7+ packed changes of clothes.  Don't forget that on the first day they were wearing something from their closet--not something from the suitcase.

So what happens?

On the last day Sweetpea announces that she has no clean clothes left (and complains that I didn't make her pack enough).  Princess commiserates and informs us she's wearing her least dirty outfit as she ran out of clothes yesterday.

And the Boy? 

When I got home and started emptying bags into the washing machine, I found 4 pairs of shorts and 3 T-shirts neatly folded and obviously untouched.  Strangely, I don't remember ever seeing the same outfit on him twice.

And this?  THIS? 

This is why I suck at math. 

PS Vacation photos coming soon!