Good Morning...

It is Saturday, sweet sweet sweeeeeeet Saturday, which finally means more to me now than just the day I go grocery shopping, horray since I've started working again. Naturally Ethan was up at 5:45 a.m., bright and early, and I would have given anything to sleep until 7. During the week I get up at 5 a.m., so technically I slept in for 45 minutes this morning. I guess I should be grateful, but somehow I'm finding it slightly difficult.

The job is going well. There is so much to learn, which is great, except that the person I replaced had long moved on to her new job by the time they hired me, so I constantly find myself asking the engineers and geochemist stupid questions. Which, annoying. But I really have no choice. They've been great and always tell me not to sweat it, that there's a learning curve, a transition period, etc. etc. etc. Still, that sounds like something you'd tell someone with a learning disability when they're having trouble adding whole numbers. Duh. Let's hope that's not the case here and that they don't all laugh at me when I'm not there.

In recent snot and germ news we're all heading in the right direction. My throat still hurts and my nose is still back and forth between stuffy and runny (but in a drive-you-crazy sexy way, of course), Drew still has the death cough and continues to spit a million green snot wads all over our porch (which dry to a thick, paint-like crust for all visitors to see, thanksalot babe), and Ethan is virtually snot-free and his eyes are white and clear. He's back to toddling around and throwing blocks at my head and singing SpongeBob SquarePants and spreading peanut butter in his hair, you know, instead of lying on the living room rug limp and hazy eyed and sad. Thank gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawd. I never want to go to the dark side of daycare ever again. I know we will, but fuck, let's try for maybe twice a year and not, like, every other week, m'kay? I've heard some pretty rough horror stories about kids in daycare ALWAYS getting sick, and the ER doctor actually told me that I might want to rethink this whole daycare thing, because Ethan will probably be sick ALL THE TIME, EVERY WEEK, FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE. Thanks doc. Asshole.


muther of gawd

no time for correct spelling or grammar, as i am typing this one handed because ethan has not let me put him down all day. you should SEE my right bicep! in summary: i spiked a fever after we put e down for the night and now my throat is swollen like roseanne barr's ass. i am also achey, generally delirious and covered with dried snot and eye boogers from e using me as his personal kleenex. drew woke up last night at around 2 a.m. barfing his brains out. he has THE BUG that e seems to be over and i'm wondering if i am next. XXX your fingers AND yer toes. thanks.

e has louisiana medicaid and when i called his PCP this morning he told me he was out till wednesday. i called the medicaid nurse line which was a big fat waste of time and finally ended up calling the doc back to ask WHAT the FUCK are we supposed TO DO? he told me to take him to a 24-hour facility but i know they don't cover medicaid. sorry doc, try again. he finally said to take e to the children's ER. greeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeat. just how i wanted to spend my morning fuckety fuck fuck fuckery with fuck on top.

fortunately we were in and out way before i expected to be but that did not stop me from having a total nervous and emotional breakdown in the hospital. the tears would not stop and people kept offering me water and tissue. one lady told me i might not be ok to drive. we went to the pharmacy to fill e's eye drops and antibiotic (diagnosis: pink eye, upper resp infection and a fucking ear infection, he totally got the poo poo platter of daycare sickness). we got home and e finally ate a cracker and drank more pedialyte. next i proceeded to torture him by administering his medications and holy shit, that kid is mighty strong with his will of ga-damn STEEL. while he napped i went into the office where they looked my sorry ass up and down and promptly shooed me away. they are the greatest people EVER. i am so lucky to have this job. gah. tomorrow the daycare and school's are closed for FAT TUESDAY, but of course i am not off from work. so, i must enlist the help of d's mom to watch ethan while i'm at work. gah. i hope i don't get the pukes. please gawd have mercy on my soul.


Welcome to Hell...

Yesterday's post was a bit too cheery, if you ask me. Fortunately (ha ha HA!) for the sake of maintaining balance the shit totally hit the fan overnight.

Ethan's eye looked a little pink yesterday evening, and we were worried that he might have pink-eye. This morning he woke up with the pink eye, but also with severe vomiting and diarrhea. Oh, the joys of daycare! It might be a fun and loving child care facility full of learning and playing and games and friends, but it's also more germ-infested than the inside of a downtown Circle K toilet.

I knew Ethan would get sick once he started daycare, but I was thinking more along the lines of a cold or a cough. I've never experienced anything like this before. This morning D was lying on the couch while Ethan ate breakfast in his highchair, and I was in our room doing an hour-long circuit workout. All of a sudden I hear Sweetie! SWEEEEEEEETIE! I need some help. NOW! I bolted to the kitchen to find an enormous puddle of vomit on the floor. I took one look at E and immediately started bawling, because he's sick and miserable and there's nothing we can do to make him better. I hate this helpless feeling. I was all concerned about calling in tomorrow, on my THIRD day of work, to take Ethan to the doctor, but hell. What can you do? We can't afford for Drew to miss work, I have no family or friends willing to watch E while he's sick like this, and he can't go to daycare in this state. I am still not quite sure if he has pink eye or allergies or if the red eye is just a part of whatever virus has struck his fragile little system. He's napping now, and if he seems better when he wakes up we're taking him to a pharmacy to have them look at his eye. Of course this shit happens on a Sunday. You know, because OF COURSE.

Having your young child throw up in front of you is terrifying. After my workout I snuggled up on the couch with E while Drew got ready to run out and get some Pedialyte, and he projectile vomited again, this time all over himself, me, the floor and the couch. It almost happened in slow motion, and all I could do was prop him upright and tell him it would be ok. I stripped him down, stripped myself down and had D run a bath for us. We sloshed around the tub for a bit, and the whole time E had this dazed and confused look on his face and kept mumbling his great displeasure in baby language in this squeaky, sad little voice. My heart has officially been ripped out, stomped on, vomited on and then put through a blender. I just want my baby to be ok again.


2 Days Down!

My oh my, so much has changed within the last week. Ethan looooooooooooooooooooooooooves daycare. I mean he loves loves loves it. Every morning he happily lurches from my arms into his very pregnant teacher's arms, and it breaks my heart but makes me feel great at the same time. It's awesome that he's in good care, but I miss him, ya know? Very pregnant teacher tells me that Ethan is "her baby", that he's soooo good and such an excellent talker. I'm sure they tell ALL the parents that, but I'll pretend like Ethan is a perfect genius angel baby. I'm glad they're happy to have him.

Drew has been amazing in helping out around the house, feeding Ethan dinner and giving him his bath. When I get home I am exhausted. I'm up at 5 a.m., ready by 6, then I get E breakfast, fix myself breakfast and chug a cup of coffee. We're out the door by 6:40 and I'm at work by 7:30. I've been leaving the office at 4:30 and getting home around 5 or so. Not too shabby! It's really worked out well and I'm glad that I don't have to worry anymore. We've set a doable routine that everyone has adjusted to surprisingly well. I actually think E is a little depressed to NOT be in daycare today. We went grocery shopping this afternoon and ran into his teacher, and when she walked up to him in the cart he squealed with delight and reached out his arms for her to hold him. I don't think I could ask for much more.

My job is fantastic. The company allows for a lengthy and smooth transition period, and though there's a lot to learn I am confident that I'll get it all down and do a fantastic job. It's such a great group of people. I still can't believe I got so lucky!

As far as food goes, I've let the calorie Nazi go. I was getting to a place before I started working that was looking a little grim. Obsessing, constantly calculating, not able to eat a meal without a calculator and pad of paper nearby. Not that there's anything really wrong with that, but as an ex-anorexic it can start to be a slippy slope of unhealthy control issues and stress. That's where I was headed. Now I'm still eating my healthy meals and snacks, but it's more about Oh, I'm hungry, let's eat! now than OMG it's meal time gotta measure out my three ounces of chicken and tablespoon of dressing and do three cartwheels and click my heels eight times. It's freeing, actually. It feels good. I had a glass of red wine (Bu-bye no drinking rule! See you in a few months!) last night, I ate a tiny bowl of light ice cream the night before, and I had a cookie from Subway today after lunch and didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt. Eating a tasty treat every day or so means that I don't have to have those hog wild out of control days where I decide that I urgently need to consume an entire half gallon of ice cream or 24 cookies because I've been so strict all week. I'm taking it as it comes, keeping my workouts intense and plentiful, and honestly I'm feeling fabulous. I still want to shed about 10 more pounds, but I'll go by the way my clothes fit, how I feel and an occasional weigh-in to determine if I need to cut back on portions or bump up my exercise. I am sure that I can reach my goal this way, it'll just take a little longer, and that is more than ok with me. Dieting might have been my hobby while I was at home. Something to do, something to plan, something to tweak. Now I feel like I'm actually eating to live, not just to fit into a smaller pant size, not counting down the hours between bland mini-meals, but genuinely enjoying my food. This has been a week of tremendous change, all for the better.



Today was Ethan's first half day at daycare. I started to feel really, REALLY guilty as he happily ate his morning cereal bar and drank his sippy cup full of milk while watching his usual morning cartoons. I was at the computer checking my email and drinking coffee when I realized that he had no idea that in a matter of minutes we'd be driving to a strange place, where I would DROP HIM OFF and LEAVE HIM. I was a nervous wreck when we left the house at exactly 6:52 a.m. He'll think I'm abandoning him! He'll hate me. He will never forgive me. He will be so scared! I can't leave him. I really don't think I can leave him.
When we got to the daycare facility fifteen minutes later it was on and poppin'. Kids were everywhere! His teacher greeted us and held out her hands to hold him. She asked Ethan if he wanted to look outside, and he practically jumped into her arms. I said Wait! Give me a kiss! and I kissed his cheek and said ok, I'm leaving now. Bye-bye Ethan! See you later! and I braced myself for the hurt and the fear and the crying and the new found sense of betrayal. And it never came. Ethan turned to me, waved his little hand and said, matter-of-factly, "Bu-Bye!". Then his teacher whisked him over to the window to look outside and I slipped away, unnoticed and unmissed. WHAT THE HELL?
What a relief, but damn. At least fake a little resistance, ya know? Sheeesh. When I picked him up at noon they'd just finished lunch and were playing outside. Ethan saw me from across the play yard, gave a big toothy smile and said "Hiiiiii!". His teachers said he did amazingly well. First day down, and I imagine it'll be cake from here on out. We'll do another half day tomorrow, and then Thursday will be his first full day. It's obvious that he had a great time. When we got home Ethan had a snack, then practically begged to take a nap. He got excited when I asked if he was tired and wanted a nap, jumped into my arms and then dove head first into his crib. He snuggled up to his stuffed dog and told me to get the hell out of his room. Someone shoot me. Now. Quick.


6 Weird Things About Me

I expect MO Mommy, Kek and Sara L to do this too. Because you have nothing better to do, right? RIGHT? (I know this because you're reading my blog. Heh.)

1) I am a great lover of all foods, with the exceptions being black licorice, papaya and swiss cheese. I love red licorice, mango, and every other kind of cheese under the sun, so go figure.

2) I have bunions. Oh, shut it! I posted my detailed experience with giving birth on here, so bunions are nothing.

3) For probably 19 years I thought my feet were normal. Somebody pointed out that look, see that bump? And that one too? It ain't normal, sweetie. And then I went and sat in a dark corner and rocked back and forth for awhile.

4) Like amalah I am obsessed with the Food Network. On the rare occasions when I'm in total and complete control of the remote (um, like if Drew is gone, or something) that's pretty much all I watch. Some favorite shows are Paula's Party, 30 Minute Meals (because I just love being annoyed, can I get a very nasally YUM-O!?), anything with Giada De Laurentiis and Nigella Lawson. I never actually cook anything I see on these shows, but I enjoy watching other people do it.

5) It absolutely makes my day when I buy something and the total comes to an exact dollar amount with no change. It's the little things, remember?

6) I once drank bong water, yeeeeeeeeeears ago. It was an accident, but I'll never forget the taste of that vile liquid and the high that was soon to follow. (Ok, I was already stoned at the time so I don't really know if drinking the bong water made any difference at all. I like to pretend that it did. I like to pretend that my total humiliation and all the grief I caught from that one damn accidental sip had some kind of positive impact, know what I'm saying?)

It's Official!

The job offer has been made official as of this morning, and I'm about as anxious and excited to start working on Thursday as a sixteen year old boy is to lose his virginity. We ran up to E's daycare center today to talk with his teacher, meet his class, pay for the week and drop off his supplies (extra change of clothes, diapers, sippy cup, lotion and diaper rash cream, to be exact). Ethan watched the other toddlets play outside in total amazement (you mean there are other babies in this world? Hey, that one's kind of cute!), but when his teacher tried to hold him he almost lost it and started chanting Bye-bye, bye-bye, bye-bye over and over again and flopping his hand back and forth, as if to say I do not know you, and I did not say you could hold me, either. Return me to my mother at once, for you know not what I am capable of, for my tantrums emerge straight from the firey depths of hell! Heh, she'll soon learn!

Tomorrow will be Ethan's first official day at daycare. I'll drop him off at 7 a.m. and pick him up after lunch. Rinse and repeat for Wednesday. Thursday will be his first full day. What in hell's bells will I do with myself for 5 glooooooorious hours tomorrow morning? I'll workout, that's what. And shower. Shower with the radio blaring! I might even do some singing and dancing in front of the mirror, using my brush as a microphone. It's the little things, you know? The little things that make life so sweet.

As if my getting a job wasn't exciting enough, guess what else? GUESS WHAT ELSE? There is a Starbucks right across the street from my office. Walking distance. And? The BEST part? Whole Foods is a 3-minute drive down the road. I've got morning coffee and lunch covered, man. I'm as thrilled about these things as I am about the benefits and the pay. Because, as you know, I'm kooky like that.


All I Did Was Blink...

Let me tell you about this little guy I know named Ethan. He used to be a baby. He used to be a little wrinkly blob of nothing but poop and spit up and screams and cries and gassy smiles. Did I mention the screaming and the crying? And the screams? And the cries? SCREAMING and CRYING. But now? NOW? He's like this little man. An actual person, one with opinions and a sense of humor and a love affair with SpongeBob SquarePants.

Ethan is walking. He's walking everywhere! He still looks like something out of a horror movie as he wobbles stiffly across the living room floor or down the hall to take a bath, but he's walking just the same. He can say eyes and head and hi and hey and hello. He can say I see you and peekaboo and patty cake. He can! He says more and alllllllll done and splash and bottle and yogurt and baby. He knows the SpongeBob SquarePants theme song and encourages us to sing it repeatedly, over and over and over again, until our heads explode. If we're having a particularly difficult diaper change or a post-bath wrestling match, all I have to do is start with Ooooooh! Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? and he will stop the madness and enthusiastically chime in SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS! Who knew that a freaking cartoon sponge would be the answer to all our parental distress? Works like a charm EVERY.DAMN.TIME.

I'm honestly ready as ready can be for him to begin daycare next week. I've spent so many weeks mentally preparing to make the switch to working mom, and at this point I do not think I could be any more prepared. I don't think I'm going to cry when I drop him off, which I feel strangely guilty about. We're doing two half days on Tuesday and Wednesday, and I'm planning to start work full time on Thursday. I know E will love it. Because hey! Look! There are other Frankenstein babies toddling around! And blocks to fight over! And crayons to eat! I considered telling his daycare teacher that if Ethan ever throws a fit to just sing the SpongeBob song, but then he'll probably expect everyone to sing that to him for the rest of his life anytime he expresses even mild displeasure about anything, and I do not think his future wife would appreciate that. I don't know though. Maybe some chicks are into that.


Go Figure

I already had a few interviews scheduled for next week, ones that I was not excited about, ones that would have led to mindless, boring, dead-end jobs. Complete misery, doom, despair and zero job satisfaction. I was beginning to walk into these interviews caring a little less each time, not particularly giving it my all because really, how do you expect me to get excited about taking phone calls from angry long distance customers or logging boring, monotonous data into an Excel spreadsheet day in and day out? I'd had two interviews for jobs I was actually excited about, but I was turned down for one reason or another and things were starting to look grim.

Yesterday afternoon I got a call from an environmental consulting firm I'd applied to several (SEVERAL) weeks ago. I told them I was free to interview any day next week except for Monday and Tuesday, as I already had two interviews lined up that excited me about as much as having teeth pulled sans Novocaine. They said they understood it was short notice, but could I come in tomorrow? I told them sure and called around to find someone to watch E. After settling the arrangements I did some research on the company and found myself squealing with delight and stomping my feet with excitement because holy hell, this sounded awesome. A possible job with a company that stood for something I actually cared about? And the position was more of a career, not just another job that would leave me aching to bolt for the door at 5 p.m. each weekday?

I interviewed today with three engineers that I clicked with immediately. They were friendly, good humored, passionate about their jobs and obviously a great team. The more they told me about the company the more I considered doing a quick handjob under the table to speed up the hiring process. I wanted that job. I wanted to be a part of everything that was discussed. I could see myself working there, being happy, learning something new every day and absolutely loving it. Then they told me about the salary. (Would it be forward of me to hump your leg?) Then they told me about the benefits. (Can I buy you lunch?) Then they explained the flexible hours and the casual dress code. (I can do an awesome strip tease right here, right now on this very conference table!) We all shook hands and exchanged final pleasantries, and they said they'd been through several HUNDRED resumes but hoped to make a decision by Monday. I crossed my fingers and headed home.

I got a phone call 15 minutes into my drive home. They wanted me. THEY WANTED ME! They extended an offer and I told them thank you, THANK YOU, you've made my weekend! I got a job, y'all! I can hardly contain my honest, genuine, over-the-top excitement. I have never been so happy. I've definitely never felt this way about a new job. Can I bend my no-drinking rule long enough to crack open a bottle of champagne? Because this totally calls for celebration.


Happy Birthday To Me!

My mom got me two workout dvds that I've been dying to get: MuscleMax and the Timesaver dvd. Oh, and a resistance band to add to my home gym. The flowers were sent to me by my good friend Meghan. Aren't they gorgeous? They make the whole room smell delightful! (Who says delightful? Clearly a sign of old age...) Tonight my mother-in-law is cooking me a birthday dinner of steak (per my request, mmm...), twice baked potatoes and asparagus, and of course cake. I'm hoping there will be ice cream involved as well. Cake and ice cream is most certainly the only way to make yourself feel better about turning 27. I'm staring 30 right in the face. I can reach out and touch 30. It feels scary and exciting and completely out of my control, so have some more cake. Let me say right now that the very best gift I have received this birthday was my little sister telling me: I can't believe you're 27! You certainly don't look or act like it. You're definitely aging like mom. That's an amazing compliment.

That's Not Juice In My Sippy Cup!

Yellow Submarine on Vimeo


Well. I see a difference NOW. Honestly I had been going back and forth and back and forth on the camera, comparing all my progress pics, frowning because I couldn't see much of a difference. The "before" pic was taken the last week of October 2006. The "after" pic was taken last week. Still a work in progress for sure, but I promised some pics and pics you shall have! (I bet you a million dollars I just lost half my readers.)


Drunken Fool

Did anyone else stuff their gaping maw with Super Bowl grub yesterday very much like you stuff a turkey on Thanksgiving Day? No? Oh. Well, I sure did. Spinach dip with melba toast, spicy queso and tortilla chips, greasy sausage (eaten like a vulture tearing apart fresh road kill, naturally), king cake, pumpkin spice cake with cream cheese frosting, pieces of E's peanut butter and jelly sandwich, etc.etc.etc. Also, alcohol. I drank cheap whiskey (the very best cheap whiskey, thankyouverymuch) with diet coke in the afternoon, and then D's aunt brought everyone daquaris later in the evening. Size:LARGE. I opted for the White Russian, and while everyone else slowly sipped from theirs throughout the evening by half-time I was the googly-eyed fool in the back of the room sucking up the last drop of my crazy juice, making that annoying gurgling noise with my straw that indicates CONTAINER:EMPTY. At one point somebody made a joke about something random, and I laughed a snorty laugh and slapped my hand on the table as if to say heh, good one, and D's sister looked at the rest of the room and asked "Is she dunk?". I promptly straightened up and adjusted my shirt and shook my head and insisted that no, no! What are you talking about? No! I'm not drunked. Drunk! I'm not drunk. Gawd. Then somebody coughed and another person got up to use the bathroom and there was silence, awkward silence that screamed Liar! And then I got up and ate more king cake.

I have decided to give up alcohol for awhile. (No, really. I'm serious this time. Why are you laughing? Stop shaking your head!) I don't have a problem with it anymore as far as drinking all the time, but I do kind of have maybe a teeny tiny problem with stopping when I do get started. It certainly isn't helping me lose these last 7 pounds, because not only is alcohol packed with empty calories but it also causes me to rationalize that spinach dip is a health food that should only be consumed in mass quantities because it contains trace amounts of spinach. So, alcohol is off the menu for a little while and I will certainly keep you posted. I'm on the wagon. No, I'm off. Am I on or am I off? I can never get that one straight. I'm the one that means you don't drink. Stupid wagon.

Anyway! Drew made me the most beautiful wooden jewelry box for my birthday! It's big and made of wood and gorgeous, with a secret compartment for my stash (what, I'm giving up alcohol!). I didn't know he knew how to... make stuff. Out of wood! He surprised me Saturday when he came home from work with a big goofy grin on his face and his hands behind his back. He'd spent the afternoon making it, and it is probably the best gift I've ever been given. The only thing that would've made it better is if he'd given it to me paired with a homemade card made out of dry macaroni and colored yarn. Really. It's awesome.

The job hunt continues on but I really just don't care anymore. You go on interview after interview (ok, so I really haven't been on that many interviews, but when going on even one interview requires dressing up, blowing out your hair, finding a babysitter for your toddler, leaving 2 hours before the interview to drop your kid off and then watching him throw a total and complete fit when he realizes you're about to leave, driving to the interview and being grilled with questions such as "Where do you see yourself in 5 years" or "How do you deal with conflict" [to which I always answer "Stripping for extra cash" and "I carry a knife at all times in case things get too heated", respectively]) and it gets to be mentally and emotionally exhausting. Especially when 3 out of 4 interviews are for ho-hum jobs that you probably kind of maybe don't even really want because you probably kind of maybe most definitely wouldn't enjoy doing the work day in and day out. Which leads me to...

School! I am going back! I am going back to school. I am exactly 1 elective credit away from having my Associate of Science degree, and I'm all signed up and ready to take my 1 online elective credit course in March. After that the sky's the limit! I checked out a few books from the library about careers in nutrition, and I'm very VERY excited about getting my 4-year degree. The details are all kind of a blur at this point, but I'm determined to do it and am thrilled that I won't have to spend the rest of my life as an administrative assistant or office manager. Horray! Drinks all around! No, wait... how about some seltzer with a twist of lime? Yes, that's better.


Dinner Music

C:\Documents and Settings\Administrator.DREW-6073BC5F9B\My Documents\My Pictures\HPIM3335 on Vimeo

Recipe Blog

I've started a recipe blog at http://healthnutrecipes.blogspot.com/. If you have a recipe to add, email me at slh07@hotmail.com. I'll take Body For LIFE-style recipes as well as non-diet friendly ones. Happy eating!



Guess who's walking? Well, I wouldn't call it walking, not yet anyway. Guess who's taking several unassisted steps from one parent to the other, looks like a drunken frat boy with vertigo in the act and then claps and squeals with pride after collapsing into said parent's arms? Little Ethan, that's who. If you said Drew you were close, good guess. I fear we've created a monster. Ethan thinks walking to and fro is a game, one that does not require him to put any real effort into keeping his balance. This could be dangerous later on, but for now I'll just enjoy the sheer hilarity that is my baby boy stumbling back and forth across our living room floor. He just looks so stumpy, so awkward, I can't help but crack up every time. Ethan laughs along with me, high as can be on nothing but life (and perhaps that shot of vodka I added to his apple juice earlier). Ah, the joys of parenting. Sure you never get to leave the house alone, but why would you want to when there's free entertainment tugging at your pant leg 24/7? The glass is most definitely half full. And it's full of Merlot!


I've joined up on the Pinkdumbbells.com site and am participating in this month's 90% Nutrition Challenge. It's a great way to have some online support (chicks only!) from a great group of girls. Based on John Berardi's Precision Nutrition program, the goal is to eat clean 90% of the time. If you're following a Body For LIFE style program that consists of 5 or 6 small meals each day, that would mean you get 3-4 cheat meals each week. Examples of acceptable cheat meals are (from Maggie's blog, a pinkdumbbells.com administrator):

a) personal size pizza at Donato’s
b) 1 c. rice with 1 c. Chinese take out food
c) regular on-plan dinner with bowl of ice cream for dessert
d) Chipotle barbacoa beef bowl

but not:

- entire large pizza with the works
- 4 plates at a Chinese buffet
- Entire 1/2 gallon carton of Ben and Jerry’s
- 3 Chipotle burritos with extra cheese, sour cream, and guacamole plus chips and bladder buster Coke

I could certainly stand to downsize my cheat meals. I don't quite think a plate of homemade lasagna, buttered peas, two bowls of salad with olive oil dressing, 3 slivers of garlic bread, 2 large glasses of wine and then a King-sized Zero bar with a glass of skim milk can be classified as ONE cheat. (That's what I ate Tuesday night, and it was gooo-ooo-oood.) So, my goal is to decrease my cheat portions but maybe have 3 or 4 of them in a week. Logic says that this will prevent me from wanting to eat an entire plate of lasagna in the future, but who knows. Sometimes a girl needs to feel full, ya know? Anyway, I've joined up and am sticking to plan. It starts today, so that means that I can't slather myself in hot wing sauce and blue cheese dressing and go slip 'n' sliding down the driveway on SuperBowl Sunday, but that's ok. I'll have one plate of only the foods that I really want, enjoy it and be done with it. Then I'll cheat again on my birthday, which is next Wednesday. (I nearly fell on my head when I glanced at a calendar yesterday and realized that, uh, my birthday was in a week. I had to breathe into a paper bag for a few minutes, but now I'm ok.)


Leaner Legs & CTX Upper Body

I did the LL workout for the first time on Monday and the CTX Upper Body workout this morning. Man. MAN. They are both brutal. Leaner Legs is a moderate weight, hi(ish) rep leg and ab workout that left my legs begging for mercy. I was a quivering, sweaty, red-faced mess when it was over and I couldn't believe how sore I was the next day. She moves quickly from one exercise to the next, barely allowing for any rest between sets and instead using active recovery, i.e. calf raises immediately following a killer set of deadlifts, or deadlifts right after static lunges, etc. It's a nice change of pace after doing four weeks of Pure Strength. This workout also includes hover squats (aka sit and stands), step ups (leg presses), plie squats, single leg lunges (with rear leg up on a high step), standard squats and a killer ab routine. I was quite impressed. CTX Upper Body is an hour long upper body workout that nearly killed me today. I love it! Again, she moves quickly from one exercise to the next and each body part was worked until I simply could not go on and was creatively cursing at the television. I'm excited to do this series for another 3 weeks.

I need a good recipe for cook-ahead dinners next week. Any suggestions? Something that makes 4 servings and keeps well in the fridge. We should start a recipe blog... anyone interested?

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