Monthly Archives: January 2012

THE DIET DIARY (OR – EVERY CALORIE COUNTS)

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I haven’t posted recently because I’ve been totally focused on my new rules.

Hubby announced the other day that we would be dieting. Said diet consists of alarming restrictions about food and beverages. “No drinking on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Two drink Wednesdays and Fridays.” I think I blacked out about then because I have no idea what Saturday and Sunday are supposed to be. I’m thinking “Make up for lost time” weekends.

In his usual organized way of pursuing a goal, he made out menus that involved cereal and lots of chicken. And veggies.

It’s a nightmare.

On Monday he sent me to work with a grocery bag full of snack items that would answer  the “Eat five times a day” requirement. Lots of granola bars, cereal bars, peanut butter crackers and flavored cardboard. I mean rice cakes.

 

Life is no longer worth living.

By Friday I was starting to fantasize about pizza. I saw someone walk into the kitchen at the office with a bag from Whataburger. I almost tackled him. The rest of the afternoon I could swear I smelled cheeseburger.

Say hello to 620 calories. And that’s just the burger.

In an unsually cooperative mood, I incorporated working out into this little farce. I mean healthy new routine. I have always hated going to the gym, and my first visit back in years was exactly what I expected. Annoying and pointless. I am mechanically challenged when it comes to gym equipment. I found myself atop a treadmill thinking, “How hard can this be?” Well, either the gym is rigged for people over 90, or I am even worse at this stuff than I thought. Even the pre-set cardio routine challenge was no challenge. At the low end, it had me walking  at 2.0 miles per hour. When it ramped up to the highest rate, it was 2.8 miles per hour. I thought maybe I had to crank the speed up myself to set a baseline, but after going through each cycle, it dropped back down to 2 again. Even I can walk at 2 mph without effort – other than maintaining my balance.

After wrestling through the routine and upping the speed each time, I managed to burn all of 54 calories in 20 minutes. A huge disappointment for a girl who measures her calorie loss in terms of Chardonnay (1 glass = 120 calories).

The treadmill is definitely NOT going to do the trick. Unless I plan to spend 24 hours a day on it. In desperation, I looked around the gym and spotted the rowing machine. Rowing. Potentially interesting. Not a bike. Not a treadmill.

I tried it. Mostly because at this point the gym was completely empty. No witnesses if I had an experience reminiscent of my first time on an elliptical machine. (I now refer to it as an epileptic machine because while on it I look like I’m having a seizure.)  I am not at the gym to amuse others. I am at the gym to punish myself for liking butter and bread and wine.

I tried a couple of different settings on the rower and imagined I wasn’t embarrassing myself too badly. I would be proved wrong later when I got home and pulled up some rowing videos on YouTube. Apparently, the normal level of resistance for rowing on water is a setting between 3 and 5. (I was rowing at the resistance of 10.)  So, basically rowing through mud.

I studied the videos, then went back the next day. Warily, I eyed the rowing machine, determined to psych it out. 30 minutes later I had burned 220 calories. That’s almost two glasses of wine! Apparently, going full tilt, you can burn 800 calories an hour. (Of course, that’s if you’re an Olympic rower.) I am not an Olympic rower, nor will I ever be. But how great would it be to be able to burn off 6 glasses of wine in an hour? 

I can dream, can’t I?

REGRETS, REINCARNATION AND REALITY

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Today’s LetsBlogOff topic is: “If I could turn back time.”

I tend to get maudlin when I start thinking along these lines. I start wondering, “What if?”

What if…I had continued working on the ranch in Mt. Pleasant training quarter horses?

What if…I had taken a chance and moved to L.A. or New York?

What if…I had made a million other decisions differently? Are there parallel universes out there in which I am living those other lives? Wouldn’t it be fantastic if after each decision you make, a game show host – let’s say, Monty Hall, pops up and shows you what’s behind Curtain #2 so you could see what WOULD have been? Then you could have instant regret, instead of getting 5 or 10 years down the line before realizing you blew it.

We don’t get to the afterlife and have someone tell us, “Well, you kinda’ wasted that XX years, didn’t you? Why don’t we try again? This time, don’t be such a wuss.” At least, I don’t THINK that’s how it goes. None of my sources say so. Best case scenario is that you come back – but as something else. (Too bad I can’t come back as my own dog, because she lives the life of Riley.)

Tip: If you get there before I do and you’re given the option, ask to be my dog. Two meals a day, any and every cushion in the house at your disposal, and constant scratches. Second best gig? Come back as my friend Max’s dog. Her feet almost never touch the ground and she is allowed to drink from his glass. Including small sips of booze. Actually, coming back as Max’s dog may be better.

Plus, as an added bonus – if you’re a dog – your biggest decision is which spot of grass to pee on, or should you lick… nevermind. I have gotten WAY off track. This is supposed to be about turning back time.

So, if I could turn back time, I would…

…put down that slice of pizza and NEVER, EVER try it. Then I wouldn’t know what I’m missing when I’m NOT eating pizza – which is way more of the time than I would like. Same goes for queso.

…rethink that whole Flashdance wardrobe I had in the early 80s.

…not punch my friend for biting my brother in the back. (She really did jump on his back and bite him when we were about 6 years old.)

No, wait. I think that was a good decision. I’ll keep that one.

I would…

…lift my shirt and show my you-know-whats when I was on stage at the Chili Cook Off in Terlingua (assisting with beer bong duties) and the whole side of the hill was chanting my name. College. What a waste of perfectly good brain cells.

Lastly, I would…

…demand better gifts for Christmas than what I received as a child. (At least the year this photo was taken.) Look at this expression. Then read the top of the box.

Potty People? Really?

Please check out what others would do if they could turn back time by clicking on the LetsBlogOff logo.

ANOTHER YEAR OLDER, BUT NOT MORE MATURE

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Today is my birthday. I share it with Richard Nixon, Joan Baez and Kate Middleton. I missed Elvis’ by just one day.

I have no particular plans for this year’s event. No Anntastic adventure or Annapalooza. For one thing, it is a Monday. A Monday that for some unknown reason I have not taken as a vacation day. Unless a kind soul has hidden a carton of Sofia’s under my desk, it will be a Monday like any other. Only I will invariably feel older.

Then again, I always feel at least a year older on Mondays. And today promises to be abysmal. I have four meetings. Everyone knows a day containing more than one meeting is a day in which you get nothing done. Instead, you sit in rooms talking about things you need to get done. then you schedule a follow-up meeting so everyone can keep track of what’s been done. And not done.

What kind of birthday fun is that? If groups of people are going to gather on my birthday and demand my attendance, there should at least be cake involved. (Or in my case, queso.) Plus, candles and champagne.

Wait. I have a diabolical idea. At least it will amuse me.

What I’ll do is walk into every meeting today a few minutes late. I’ll back into the room as though I’m talking to someone in the hallway. As I turn around to face the conference table I will jump back and GASP. Then I’ll slap my hand to my chest and gush, “Oh my goodness! You GUYS!! A surprise party? For me? You SHOULDN’T have!!!”

That should liven things up.

Or get me fired.

Happy Monday to all!

 

UPDATE:

I was greeted this morning with a little surprise from my team. Awwww. They’re the best.

2012, WE NEED TO TALK

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Every two weeks, another LetsBlogOff topic is introduced and we scamper off to compose our responses. This week the topic is, “What are you looking forward to in 2012?”

First things first.

2011, thank you for the year of recovery. We marked the one year anniversaries of the passing of my father, Bill Rogers, and my friend, Leah Siegel. I appreciate the opportunity to experience the healing process that strengthened other relationships and for the ability to add a little perspective to my life and work. I don’t know that I would have taken the trip to Wales (my first out of the U.S.) if not for the realization that we don’t always have next year or even tomorrow to carry out our plans.

(Thanks, Sandy, for the best trip ever!)

2012 has the potential to deliver big in lots of ways – or to be a complete disaster. We can control our fate to some degree, but some things are outside our power to command. But, hey, a girl can try, right?

So listen up 2012. Here’s what I need you to do for me.

I will be needing a complete and total cure; a clean bill of health – for a child I know. I can’t go into more detail, as the situation is still developing, and it’s not my place to do anything but put the universe on notice. I just know this: It needs to be fixed. Universe – Pick on somebody your own size. Or I will cut you.

Employment. For my husband. It’s been a difficult few years for him in IT/Channel sales, and it’s time to turn things around. Really. He needs to get out of the house. The dog has gotten way too attached to him. And too spoiled. Observe.

Otherwise, 2012, I expect the same thing from you that I do from myself. I am looking forward to new opportunities, a little rejuvenated attitude and more than a small boost of energy.

I plan to continue this blog, which will be a year old in May. It has been fun and therapeutic, and has introduced me to some wonderful people and talented writers. Who knew complete strangers could be so supportive?

There’s also a possible trip to France in 2012 which should rival my Welsh adventures. I look forward to seeing my friends and family more often, and to the complete recovery of my mother’s pelvis. (That sounds as if she lost her pelvis, rather than broke it, doesn’t it?)

I also look forward to never discussing my mother’s pelvis in public again; as I am sure, does she. (It’s healing nicely, by the way.)

Okay, apparently my obsessiveness and paranoia is going to continue in 2012, because now that I am thinking about the trip to France, I look forward to someone loaning me Rosetta Stone – French. Hint-hint.

I think I may be confusing 2012 with Santa Claus.

Au revoir, 2011. Bring it on, 2012.

What is everyone else expecting from 2012? Read on.

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