Monday, January 31, 2011

One. Stinking. Pound.

This weekend I ran my ass off.  Sadly I do not mean this literally.

Saturday I got up at the crack of 8:30 (if you know me, you know this is a hurcurlean feat) and went to the gym, where I swam laps for 20 minutes.  I picked up The Boy at his grandmothers (where he opted to spend "MY WEEKEND") and we went to the West Side Market, where we walked for roughly two hours.  I came home and made a nice dinner for my family, then I took The Girl bowling. 

Sunday involved some grocery shopping and another three games of bowling.

I consdiered this to be an active weekend.  No, I didn't run a marathon or hike to the top of a mountain but I do not feel that I was anything close to sedentary. And I was pretty gosh darn proud of myself.

Combine this with the rest of the activity for the week, which consisted of my two normal trips to the gym (40 to 60 minutes of exercise each) and a half hour on the dreadmill in my basement, you would think I'd see a happy number on the scale this morning.

Shit no...I lost a pound. ONE sad little pound. you think it could have had something to do with the ice cream and donuts?  Really?

Big, fat SIGH.

I am a slave to sugar. 

We have developed a habit of stopping at Dairy Queen almost every Friday night, where I get a medium Double Fudge Cookie Dough Blizzard (I hear angels singing just from typing it). 

And The Man likes to bring home a dozen donuts with the newspaper on Sunday.

Yes, I suppose could ignore the donuts.  Sure, I should abstain from the ice cream.  Theoretically I could also fly if I flapped my arms hard enough, but honey it's not happening.  I rarely smoke or drink, I don't do drugs.  I LIKE SUGAR!!!

So what to do?  WHAT TO DO????  Do I accept dismal weight-loss numbers as the cost of my sugar habit?   Do I swear off the stuff, for the eight bazillionth time, knowing full well that within a week I'll be thinking that I'd rather be fat and be able to eat what my family eats?  Do I up the exercise with pretty much the same result of eventual disgust in what feels like endless self-punishment.

I'm starting to think I just have to accept the numbers, dissapointing as they are.  Be happy, even THANKFUL, for any shift in the right direction and get on with my life.  I mean I participated in one sort of exercise or another five out of seven days last week so increasing that does not seem reasonable.  I heard some diet guru last week saying that he recommends SIX HOURS of cardio training PLUS weights every week.  Who does that?  Who has an hour plus, every single day, to devote to exercise?  Not this fat chick, I'll tell you that.

I talked to my Chiropractor last week about my acid reflux and he gave me a "reduced sugar diet".  This plan advocates, among other thingss, MAKING YOUR OWN SALAD DRESSING.  I wrote about the old weight watcher plan where we had to make our own ketchup a couple of weeks ago (can I go blind for linking to my own blog?).  Remember the old "I get two meats and one bread and one vegetable" plan?  This paper that my doctor handed me in two- thousand-freaking-eleven was exactly that.   I'm sorry, I can't go back there. 

Is this what we've come to as a society?  What happened to eating like a normal person?  To me having to weigh and record every bite I put in my mouth is not normal.  Schleeping to the gym every single day and pushing my body until it hurts is not normal.  Enduring pain and emotional misery to be healthy should not be necessary.  But it seems that it is, and this is something I'm having a very, VERY hard time accepting. 

Today's lunch:  Braunschweiger (from the West Side Market) sandwich with yummy sweet potato chips (from Aldi's! go figure!)

Friday, January 28, 2011

Look At Me Acting all Healthy'n Sh*t

It's FRIDAY and I'm entering the home stretch.  Since the plague took from me the majority of last weekend (I slept until 4pm on Saturday) I'm looking forward to the two days to come.

I'm also in a MUCH better mood today than I was yesterday, which I attribute primarily to Pandora starting my day out with the likes of Aretha Franklin, Ray Charles and Johnny Cash.  I should really be legally required to have music playing near me at all times.  It drastically reduces the likelihood that I may hurt someone for something as trivial as being an idiot.

Of course it helps to have something to look forward to.  The light at the end of the tunnel has been burning dimly in the distance for me lately but today I feel the glow. 

Tomorrow The Boy and I, possibly accompanied by his "friend" (a GIRL!) are going to visit The West Side Market.  I try to get there a few times a year just for the experience of it.  My Grandmother and Great Grandmother used to shop there.  It's so historically rich, architecturally interesting and just plain cool, but it's also about 40 minutes from my house so the trips are a treat.  I admit I tend to buy things I shouldn't, either because they're not good for me or because I'll end up not using them, but there are so many things there that you can't get at the big chain grocery stores (pig head anyone?).  The Boy hasn't been there since he was too little to remember so when we saw a special on TV about it a few months ago he said he'd like to go.  Of course I am firmly rooted in reality and I know, without a doubt, that five minutes in he'll be asking how much longer I plan to be there, but I'll try hard not to let him ruin the experience and hope some day he'll take HIS kids and tell them about how their Grandmother, who they love dearly, brought him there.

I promise to pick up something that I can photograph and eat when next I Blog Over Lunch.

Another thing I'm looking forward to is the impending delivery of several Borders gift cards which I purchased with my Discover Cash Back Bonus (yes, there IS an upside to living rediculously far outside of one's means).  I'm going to use the gift cards to buy a Velocity Micro Cruz Tablet.  I'm beyond excited about this.  90% of my reading is done in bed, with my cell phone running the flashlight app and pointed at my book because The Man is sleeping.  He gets up 2 hours before me so I don't want to keep him awake with the light.  The rare occasion when he's still awake when I climb into bed gives him a bit too amusement for my taste.  The laughter distracts me from my book.  Apparently I look like a total doof with my illuminated phone propped up on my chin.  So I'm about to join the E-Reader owners of the world and stop accumulating books.  Admittedly I'm going to miss hard copies, and will still try to buy Dean Koontz novels to add to my collection, but it's time to go green.  Plus I have MAJOR iPad envy (three of my bosses have them) and this is basically a low-rent, less powerful iPad knockoff running on the Droid operating system, which I already love on my phone.  So I ask the Postal Service Gods...please please PLEASE bring me my gift cards so I can go buy my new toy this weekend.

I also think, though it has been neither confirmed nor denied, that the oldest of The Girls may be moving home this weekend.  This is good stuff either because I love her very much or because I'm just crazy enough to want another teenager to be living in my house.  Probably both.

So that's what I'm looking forward to....your proverablial warm and fuzzy for the day brought to you by yours truly.  Relish it my freinds, because as we know I'm not typically a ray of frickin' sunshine.

In addition to all of the looking forward to type stuff I also have a busy weekend of not entirely exciting stuff going on.  I may not have mentioned that I'm participating in a weight loss contest at work.  I'm actually a team captain if you can believe it.  So I've promised myself and my team that I will exercise.  I'm committed to a half hour on the dreadmill and a trip to the gym to swim in addition to the walking at the market AND my normal sunday night bowling league.  Look at me acting all healthy'n shit.

AND...I  need to pay bills and as God is my witness I will at least start doing my taxes.  Maybe.

I hope you all have a fantabulous weekend of things to look forward to.  If not, why not plan something now?  Do something nice for yourself.  I worry about you.

Today's Lunch:  Light Life Asian Teryaki.  Pretty good stuff once I got over the fact that it doesn't have any meat in it.  I'm sure I thought there had to be chicken in it when I bought it.  Carnivorous as I am, I still kinda liked it.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Pesto and Petulence

I spent today's lunch break composing a bitterly sarcastic and hilarious essay about being a Payroll Manager for a company that hires primarily high school and college students who don't know a W2 from a watermelon.   But I love my job too much to post it.  I'm in a mood, my lovelies.  You'll have to bear with me.

But my lunch was scrumptious.  Amy's Pesto Tortellini Bowl.  Go get one.  They're yummy.


Tuesday, January 25, 2011

At Death's Door

I know I said I was only going to write if I have something of substance to contribute but Blogger has this doodad that allows me to see how many page views I have and it just breaks my heart when you wonderful darlings click on my page with nary a new word to be seen.  Someone even checked in at 3 am.  Whoever you are, bless your pea pckin' little heart.

Yesterday I spent my lunch break among the sickies (though none as sick as me, I assure you) at the CVS Minute Clinic across the street from my office.  The Nurse Practitioner assured me that my lungs sound good but my ears have fluid behind the drums and...I'm quoting here...."your sinuses look like crap".  They say I have a sinus infection but I am sure this is a misdiagnosis and in fact I have something akin to the Black Plague.  Hopefully Amoxicillin will fix it.

If I'm able to remain conscious I'll try to scrape up something at least marginally entertaining at lunch today.

Smooches.....germ free ones of course.

Friday, January 21, 2011


I just changed my settings to allow Anonymous comments so that you can comment even if you don't have a Google account. 

Screws Fall Out All The Time

"Screws fall out all the time, the world is an imperfect place" - John Bender, The Breakfast Club

Should I start putting movie/tv/music quotes on my blog entries?  Anybody?  Anybody?  Bueller??

Yesterday I sat down in my desk chair here at work and it gave up.  I swear I heard it sigh and say "fuck this"...and then a screw fell out.  Don't worry, I was in no mortal danger, but I was leaning noticably to the right, looking silly and inspiring absolutely NO confidence in my professional abilities as I tried not to fall over.

My boss, bless his heart (I have seriously won the boss lottery) flipped my chair over and tried to put the screw back in for me.  It went in sort of sideways and begrudgingly.  And dang if it didn't fall back out again!  So this morning, as Bossman fixed it yet again, he mentioned that if the screw continued to pop out he has a product at home that would pretty much permanently glue the screw in place.  No smartypants, the product is not called glue.  But the name does escape me.  Let's just call it screw fixer stuff.

So when the screw popped out for the third time I carried it in to Bossman's office.  At this point the filter between my brain and my mouth, clogged up by stress and cold medicine, went entirely on the fritz and I said to this churchgoing father of five who holds my career and earning potential in his hands, "Want a screw?".  Go ahead, say it out loud.  See the problem?  Yeah.

I proceeded to make things worse by babbling (shocking, I know) "Wait...I mean 'DO YOU want A screw?'  This thing here.  DO YOU??  Um...wait...." (I leave the room, and come back in) "Hey this screw fell out can you bring that stuff in?  Um ....  please?" 

I'm still here, I'm not fired yet, proof that my boss lottery theory totally holds water.

So as I sit here in the receptionist's discarded office chair I am thoroughly embarrassed.  Downright humiliated.  In spite of the fact that I'm pretty sure it's unlikely if not impossible that my heft could cause a screw to run for dear life, its escape plan foiled only when it hit the floor and failed to sprout legs, I am convinced that every single one of my coworkers is quietly snickering because the fat chick broke her chair. 

First, you have to understand that I work in an office of thin people.  Of the nine of us, three are rail thin, possibly medically underweight and struggling to gain.  Four are at a perfect, healthy weight.  My boss and I are both perpetually dieting.  I feel judged here, more than anywhere else, which is saying a lot. 

I lost 86 pounds and was at a healthy weight for about 15 minutes in the late 90's and I remember one of the best things about that was being able to eat in public without feeling like people were watching me and thinking "Well THAT'S why she's fat".  I actually had a friend tell me, when I was at my highest weight, "You eat like a bird".  Yeah, FRONT of you I eat like a bird, then I go home and curl up inside a bag of chips.

But really, and here is where I need you to pay attention because I'm going to introduce a fairly far-out concept here....I am NOT the center of the universe.  Soak that in.  Go ahead.  I know it's rough.  It took me a while to process too.  The theory is that while we are all in a snit worrying about what people think about us, those same people are equally snittified worrying about what WE think of THEM.  Can you imagine?  All this WORRY???  If only we could harness all that wasted energy and do something practical with it.  Like exercising and cooking healthy meals so I wouldn't have to be embarrassed about my weight!! as I say, not as I do, mmkay??

Today's lunch: Amy's Vegetable Lasagna and grapes.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Maybe I'll Write, Maybe I Won't

Yesterday I just DID NOT feel like writing.  I was in a horrible mood due to several factors that I should not have let get to me, but I did.  And I let a perceived obligation to write add just one more factor to the horrible mood making list.

So this morning I was trying to figure out what to write about today and it occurred to me that I don't HAVE to write every single day.  This may seem obvious to you, so now you know that I'm not that bright.

I would rather read six words from Miranda Pinero than a novel by almost anyone else, and in spite of my extensive stalking searching I haven't been able to find anything by her more recent than her last Tweet on December 29th.  The fact that she hasn't updated it since last April doesn't make her blog any less brilliant.  I could read her older essays, found here, over and over and over again.  I mean the woman refers to caffeine as her "sweet demon bride".  I want to be her when I grow up.

My point is that I think she's a fabulous writer and she doesn't just pump out words for the sake of words.

My favorite current blog,, is only updated maybe once a month.  I don't know how I stumbled across it but the first entry I read was this one and I was instantly obsessed with the woman's writing.  But I waited and I waited and it was like a month before she posted again.  Was this such a bad thing?  Not really.  I look SO forward to each entry, probably because they are unique, well crafted and have really funny cartoons with them. 

Yes...I have blog envy.

My point is that I'm going to work harder to turn out a quality product, though the quantity may decrease.  I know you're wondering how you will ever survive without my endless rambling about trying to think of something to write, peppered with the occasional weight-related post.  But trust me Sweetie, you'll be fine.  Absence makes the heart grow fonder or some such rubbish.

Today's lunch: I wandered into Subway for breakfast because I had some time to kill before Office Max opened.  I got an egg white muffin.  While I was there I figured I'd get lunch and dinner, since I have to work late tonight.  So I just had half of my foot long ham on wheat.  The other half awaits for later.  A whole day's food for $8.00.  Clearly I need to work on applying that "quality instead of quantity" concept to other areas of my life as well.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

You Can Thank Me Later

Hello my friends.

I regret to inform you that there will be no Blog Over Lunch today....because I'm in a pissy mood.

As you were.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Good Stuff V2.0

Here are some things that I think are absolutely awesome.  I encourage you to try any and all of them (not mine, get your own!).  And I'm not even being paid to write that (not that I wouldn't be thrilled if any of these companies want to totally make me their advertising bitch).

Ford Mustang

In general, any model and any year outside of the obviously regretable late 80's and early 90's.  Specifically this beauty right here:

I've wanted a mustang my whole life.  It took me until I was 44 years old to get one.  I only drive it in the summer, which means that right this second it is a very pretty 3,400 pound conversation piece which I store in my garage, insure and make payments on.  This requires me to park my transportation vehicle, an eleven year old Jeep Grand Cheroke, in the driveway.  Speaking of which....

Remote Start

The Man bought me this for Christmas and I don't know how anyone living in Northeast Ohio in the winter doesn't have one.  Admittedly, it would be better if my heat didn't take an hour to start working, but it's a start, no pun intended.


Anyone who has known me for more than a week has probably heard me talk about my Roomba.  I LOVE LOVE LOVE these little robots.  What I love just as much is the fact that Best Buy gives me a new one every time I kill one.  I am seriously not exaggerating when I tell you that I've had about 15 of these things over the last five years. They aren't very durable, but they are very good at this tedius chore that I have no interest in performing manually.

I used to have three.  Now I have one and I have to carry it up the steps when I want those floors cleaned.  Times are tough all over.

Pandora Internet Radio

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, go to and be amazed.  Seriously GO!!  NOW!!!  You can thank me later.  I only wish The Man could ever know me as well as my Pandora does.

French Vanilla Cappucino

Good Cappucino is like fine wine, meaning I have no interest in either.  I like my cappucino cheap and quick.  The stuff that comes out of the machine at the gas station is HEAVEN to me.  McDonald's lost my cappucino business when they started making theirs with real espresso.  I like my wine to come out of a box too.


Black.  Nearly as necessary as air.  Sligtly more necessary than water.  No coffee no workee.  'nuf said?

Diet Coke

Yes it's eating the enamel off my teeth and sucking the calcium out of my bones.  Yes I understand that I could clear a drain, clean my rims and probably build a WMD out of a can of it but if I quit drinking it I would not be fit company for man or beast.

Shoes, purses & earrings

I lump these all into one because I like them for the same reason; I can enjoy them without worrying about what size I am.  I don't have to go to a special store and pay twice as much as a thin person would for a pretty pair of earrings.  My shoes will still fit me next week if I gain or lose a pound or three.  And no purse ever made anyone look fat.  It's icing on the cake that they also won't put weight on me.  Win/win!

Those are the material things that make my little heart go pitty pat.  I know admitting that I actually find value in these things is very much out of style.  If this makes me materialistic, it's probably not the worst thing I'll be called today. 

I actually have a coworker who once came in from lunch and said "You will not believe what my son wants to buy me for Christmas!  He wants to get me some little robot that vacuums the floor!  I've never heard such a stupid thing in my LIFE.  The day I get too old to vacuum my own house every day I hope someone shoots me in the head".   I quietly said "I have three".  Of course this is the same coworker who told me that internet dating was pathetic.  Have I ever mentioned where I met The Man??

Today's lunch:  Campbell's steak and noodle soup.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Small Changes My Ass

I've met couples who poke fun at each other for their snoring.  Somtimes the man will point out the woman's cute little snoring problem and she will laugh and deny it.  Maybe she really thinks she doesn't snore, maybe she just doesn't want to admit it.

Me, I snore like a drunken, suffocating lumberjack.  I know this because I can hear myelf, and I wake myself up gasping for breath.  The latter worries me because I lived for 20-some years listening to my ex husband do the same.  Eventually he was diagnosed with sleep apnea and given a machine called a C-Pap which looked disturbingly like life support.  It didn't really help.  Eventually we ended up in separate bedrooms.  He no longer had to sleep with the useless machine, and I no longer had to fight the urge to suffocate him with his pillow while he did so.

Over the last four years The Man has had to wake me at night with increased frequency.  The fact that he doesn't get angry at me, hasn't yet suffocated me, never asks me to relocate to the couch and says "It's ok" when I apologize for waking him is proof that he truly loves me more than I probably deserve. 

The fact that the increased frequency with which he wakes me or I wake myself has been proportionate to the rate at which the numbers on the scale have gone up is not lost on me.  And this has added to my already constant "you suck" inner dialogue with regard to my weight.

So I lost 15 pounds.  A drop in the obseity bucket but still I would have expected SOME improvement, but things got WORSE.

So I went to the doctor and he told me that I have Acid Reflux disease (often caused by being overweight-go figure).  My inflamed esophegus may be contributing to the snoring.  I've stopped adding my beloved lemon juice to my water, which seems to have helped with the sore throats, which I always blamed on the snoring but it turns out it was due to acid errosion.  And I'm on medication.  Every day when I take the pill out of the bottle it screams "FATASS" at me on its way to my mouth.  All of this has helped but has definitely not cured my snoring, crushing my hope that the snoring was completely caused by the reflux and not by my weight.

So tonight I have to go have a sleep test to confim what I already firmly believe; that I have sleep apnea.  Other than "because my doctor said so" I'm not sure why I'm going, because I have no intention to sleep with a C-Pap machine. I hear there are other treatments.  Mouth guards and surgery and yes, losing weight is supposed to help. 

How did I get here?  I used to be healthy.

Ok...maybe not HEALTHY, but fairly thin.

When The Ex and I first moved out together at the age of 19, I made at least one, sometimes two 9 x 13 cakes every week and they provided us with breakfast AND dessert.  Lunch was typically a Big Mac AND fries, AND a milkshake.  Dinner was delivered in a big square box, came out of our deep fryer or was handed to us through a drive thru window.  After dinner we watched TV.  We worked 'till 5 and were in front of the TV from 6:30 to 11, eating snacks that we bought in bulk at the wholesale club.  Huge tubs of peanut butter cups, cashews, M & M's.  When I look back at pictures from that time I think "look how thin I was!". 

But I've always considered myself fat.  I think this comes from the fact that I'm 5'9" so when I was 140 lbs and really at the low end of what's healthy for my height I was listening to my 5'2" friends talk about how fat they were at 125.  As a result of this, at least once or twice a year I'd stop shoving cake and french fries in my face long enough to go on a diet.

Back then if you wanted to lose weight you went to Weight Watchers where they taught you things like how to make your own ketchup and salad dressing.  You survived on less food than would sustain an anorexic rabbit and every bit of it had to be made from scratch because this was before Weight Watchers made boxed dinners.  I remember on Wednesdays after my Weight Watchers meeting I went to Burger King, bought a whopper without cheese or mayonnaise, brought it home and threw away the bun & put it on diet bread.  The difference between "being good" and "being bad" was akin to the difference betwen living in a monestary and a whorehouse.  No mortal person could be good all the time and the guilt we felt for falling off and eating a half an oreo was soul-crushing. 

Don't get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for the modern Weight Watchers program.  But back in the day it was a different animal.

Anyway, at some point the medical community announced something wonderful.  Weight loss and long-term good health could be achieved by making small changes.  SMALL changes!  Apparently it wasn't necessary to starve yourself until you dove into a vat of failure and hot fudge, rinse and repeat.

Over the years I've made hundreds of small changes.  We have cake in the house on birthdays only.  Ice cream graces our freezer once every two months or so.  Potato chips have been replaced by whole wheat tortilla chips.  I used to keep pop in steady supply, now we only have it for parties.  I drink water (without lemon, damnit) like a fish.  My Snickers a day vending machine habit is no more, though admittedly this was not accomplished through will power but by taking a job in a building without a candy machine.  I have even, over the last month, adopted and managed to stick to a policy of "If I didn't bring it I'm not eating it", keeping me away from all of the candy and cookies and various treats that my many underweight coworkers bring to the office for public consumption.  I go to the gym somewhere between 2 and 4 times a week and I work out roughly 40 minutes at a pop either on the elliptical trainer or in the pool. 

I haven't been a saint, mind you.  Because it's about small, sustainable changes, right?  Over the past two weeks we've eaten out once rather than the typical 3 or 4 times.  We've gone out for ice cream once and gone out for breakfast once, rather than the typical 2 or 3 times.  I've been eating soup for lunch (as Blog is my witness) rather than going to McDonald's or even Subway.  And where has that gotten me?  I got on the scale yesterday and I GAINED a pound. 

So to the medical community, and the media who serves as the messanger who I actively wish to kill, I say "Small Changes My Giant Spongy Ass".  Seriously.  What the???? 

So tonight I'll go have myself hooked up to wires and try to sleep while some technician monitors my breathing, heart rate and brain waves so that they can tell me that I have to lose weight.  I'll swear off all processed or sugar-laden foods once again for a little while, and I'll make that one small change where I don't eat anything that tastes good.  I think that may be the one they're talking about, but if so why don't they just SAY SO???

What did I do with that ketchup recipe?

Today's Lunch - More of a late breakfast of Special K Granola and Milk.  Yummy, crunchy goodness.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Good Stuff - Living, Breathing Edition

Today I'm feeling appreciative of all the good people and things in my life.  History tells us that this little burst of happiness is just the universe's way of fucking with me and soon I will be dealt some turn of luck, fate or yes, even just an ugly mood swing which will take all of this appreciation and turn it into snarky, cynical irritation.  So let's hop on this happy little train while we can, shall we?

As I've gone about my typical Friday morning I've compiled a list of people and things for which I'm grateful.  I'll start with the living & breathing entries on this list and throw other things in down the line.  I hope to make this a regular segment here on my little blog.  Original?  No.  But it's my blog and I'll be cliche if I want to!

First, there's This Kid.

Cute huh?  Yeah, he knows it too.  You will come to know him as The Boy.  He'll be 16 on Monday.  I love him more than I can say, and because of that he has the ability to piss me off like nobody else.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, the ultimate injustice is that you can divorce a man and then your child turns into him. 

There's This Guy:

The Man.  In this picture he's driving my car.  This means I must love him very much, because I also love my car (though it neither lives nor breathes and therefore must wait until a later entry for adequate homage to be paid).   I have yet to find a better title for him so "boyfriend" is what he's stuck with even though neither of us is in high school.  Life Partner is more accurate but seems to have been copywrited by the homosexual community. I don't know many homosexuals but the ones on TV seem very nice so let's not piss them off.  "The Man" will do for now. 

There's These Two:

The offspring of The Man.  I refer to them as My Girls.  They're not my daughters, but they're My Girls.   Love Love Love.

And these two:

The Pug and The Puppy.  The Puppy is a year and a half old but he's just cute enough and just stupid enough that he will always be a puppy to me.  The Pug is old and deaf and, as I believe all pugs are, just ugly enough to be adorable.  I love them far more than is logical, and The Man just doesn't get it.  I think I'm supposed to believe he dislikes them...but who wouldn't love those faces?

And then there are my friends.  I'm extremely blessed in this regard.  I have several dear old friends (the friendships are old, the people are every bit as youthful and spry as yours truly) who have seen me through the best and worst moments of my life.  I have many online friends, and I never want to discount those relationships simply due to lack of in-person howdy-do's.  So often they've seen me through ordeals that I didn't feel I could share with in-person aquaintances and for that I'm eternally grateful. 

So those are my peeps.  As I mentioned it is Friday, and I've spent the majority of the last five days with only the company my esteemed coworkers.  I miss my peeps.  Come on weekend!  Ooh....adding weekend to the list of good stuff.

Todays' Lunch - Chicken Noodle Soup & Crackers.  High sodium bliss.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

What makes me want to write?

I started writing on an almost daily basis about seven or eight years ago.  I was a member of a diet website which offered a "Journal" option.  I hadn't kept any sort of diary since I was a pre-teen but I was desperate to lose weight and if the site administrators thought writing about it would help, I was ready to give it a shot.

It was an extremely friendly community and before I knew it I had readers!  People commented on and regularly followed what I had to say.  Some said that I had a way with words and when I failed to write they sent me messages asking when I'd write again.  It was AMAZING. 

I continued to write (and lose weight) there for a couple of years but when it got to the point where I was only logging on to this weight loss site to write I decided a change of venue was called for.

So I took my show on the road to LiveJournal.  A dozen or so of my friends from the diet website followed me , and there I continued to write for my own entertainment and that of my cyber-friends.  Only a handfull of people who I had ever met in person had access, and those were people who I had met and developed in-person relationshios through the diet website.  Nobody in my "real life", nobody whose relationship with me didn't spring from my writing was allowed in.  Somehow it's easier to share your deepest personal thoughts and problems with people you almost never have to see face.  There is no judging and talking about you behind your back.  Or if there is, you never have to find out.

It could be a sign that I'm growing up (at 45? yathink?) or maybe that my life is calming down but I find that I don't have that much to write about in my journal anymore.  My personal life is fairly calm and mostly happy.  My challenges just don't scream to be written down as they used to.  But I still have an overwhelming urge to write.  It's frustrating having the need to write, yet to have nothing to write about.  It's like being hungry and there's nothing good in the house to eat.  It's bang my head on the desk frustrating I tellya!

Last week we went to see the movie Country Strong.  Watching movies about music usually makes me want to sing, which is equally frustrating because I have NO vocal talent whatsoever.  But this movie, maybe because it also dealt with the writing aspect of it, made me want to write.  It made me want to write SONGS.  But considering that I don't play an instrument and I don't read music, if I did write a song I couldn't share it with anyone because I sing like a drowning cat.

So here I am.  Back at my computer screen wondering why I'm compelled to do this day in and day out.  I certainly don't want to write about writing over and over again. 

But hey...I changed my background.  Isn't it cute? 

Today's Lunch - Tomato soup with crackers and grapes.  All that was missing was the grilled cheese, but we can't have everything.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Literary Masturbation

While I don't want this to be a "Here's what I did today" blog (I already have that over on LiveJournal, not that I keep it up any more) I also haven't yet developed a list of things I want to write about.  So....where to turn from here?

My plan is to keep a list in my phone (combining my two favorite things: lists and my phone) of potential subjects as they pop into, and quick like before they pop again out of, my head.  The last thing I need is to be faced with this blank screen each noon.  What I do NOT need in my life is more pressure to perform in front of a keyboard, capish?

Here's the thing.  Last night I was watching Glee.  It was a rerun but it was one of the episodes from before Kurt went away to private school so I watched most of it anyway.  He sang the song from Victor/Victoria.  I so want to be his BFF.  Sorry, my inner tween took over there for a mintue.  ANYway....the slutty cheerleader used the term "Vocal Masturbation" to describe what Kurt was about to do, which was to sing a duet alone (brilliantly, I might add).  It reminded me exactly what I DON'T want this blog to be: Literary Masturbation.  Yes, I'm writing this because I enjoy writing, but I also enjoy contact and feedback from my readers (at least I did back when I had readers).  I don't want to do this only for myself.  I do see that I have two followers.  So now I say to the Blog Gods...Please Sir, Can I have some more? 

I suppose I need to do some research.  I assume I'll find a wealth of advertisement laden knowledge if I run a Google search on how to increase blog traffic.  But in the meantime, if you don't mind, tell a friend.  Pretty please?

Admittedly I'm not ready to perform the literary equivalent of Kurt's Le Jazz Hot, but that doesn't mean I don't want to...well.....see my literary masturbation turn into at least a small orgy.  Yes, my friends, here is proof that a metaphor can be creepy when taken too far.  You're welcome.

Today's lunch: Cobb Salad from the pizza joint next door with Newman's Own Balsamic Vinaigrette Dressing. The healthy fat in the dressing cancels out the bacon in the salad and the of the dressing cancels out the processed meat products.  See?  It's like I didn't eat ANYTHING!

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Blogging....over lunch, of course.

I've often considered starting a blog.  For several years I've had an online journal and I've even been told by one or two of my readers that I should start a blog.  My concern was always that I don't have enough to write on any given subject.  Would I rapidly run out of things to say about raising a teenager with ADHD?  Would anyone come back on a regular basis to read about my weight loss challenges?  Am I funny enough to write purely for other people's amusement?  The answers to all three questions are most assuredly NO.  But maybe if I write about whatever pops into my head, and don't try to be funny, and don't claim to be an expert on any one subject (trust me, if it's not about Payroll I'm sure I know far less than you) then there's a chance it might not be a compelte waste of my time to write and your time to read.  MAYBE.

I work full time -- plus a bit.  I DO have a teenage son to raise.  I also have a long-term live in-boyfriend (I HATE that word) who has kids of his own coming and going.  I try really hard to get to the gym two or three times a week, clean before the dust bunnies unionize and cook once a month or so.  I love to write, but how can I possibly squeeze it into my schedule on a regular basis any time other than between 3:45 and 4 am?  THIS was the question I was considering a few minutes ago over my soup.  And because all the really cute, witty, fun names were taken I created Blog Over Lunch. 

I'm new to, so I apologize in advance for whatever blank space and boring formatting may accompany my words at first.  I'll be learning how to navigate the site as I go along.  I'll try to write something at least marginally interesting, informative and/or entertaining every day.  In that way I promise to give you your money's worth (which is to say, you get what you pay for).  If I miss the mark, thanks for stopping by and feel free to go along your merry way.  I'm mostly doing this for me because, as I said, I really enjoy writing.  If you do like it, send me a comment.  I think there’s a button around here somewhere for that.  I'd really appreciate your feedback.

And since I'm pretty much flying along by the seat of my pants, if there's anything in particular you'd like to see here, let me know.  I'm open to suggestions.

I suppose a good start would be to introduce myself.  My name is Terrie and I’m a Payroll Manager for a restaurant franchise.  I love my job.  I live just outside of Cleveland but I’m not a sports fan so it’s ok. 

The Boy:  My son is 16 years old.  He was diagnosed with ADHD when he was 7.  Medication helps him focus but, sadly, does not change the fact that he’s a male teenager and therefore feels the need to lie to me at every turn.   Did you know that children with ADHD can lag as much as 3 years behind their peers as far as maturity is concerned?  Yep.  So he’s as tall as me, stronger than me, expects the freedom of a 16 year old with the maturity of a 13 year old.  Oh and he is EXACTLY like his father.  Fun times.

The Man:   I met The Man shortly after The Ex (below) and I became separated.  A year later he moved in and we’ve been cohabitating now for almost five years.  For the most part we balance each other out nicely.  He likes to get up early, I like to sleep in.  He likes to eat healthy, except when he doesn’t.  I try to lose weight, except when I get discouraged.  Most of the time we don’t want to kill each other, but we have our moments.

The Ex:  I’ve been divorced for five years from my high school sweetheart.  We were together a total of 22 years.  He’s very active in my son’s life and he’s very good about reminding me on a regular basis exactly why I divorced him.

The Girls:  The Man has two daughters.  The Oldest lives in our basement.  The Youngest lives with her mother but spends almost every weekend with us. 

The Dogs:  The Pug is a cranky old bitch.  The Cavachon is a year and a half old and still thinks he’s a puppy.

Right now I need to go wash my bowl and get back to work.  More tomorrow.

Today's Lunch - Campbell's Chunky Clam  Chowder - Because soup is indeed good food.