Rainy Day?

E is sleeping and my plan was to take him to the park once he wakes up, but I hear thunder... gah! Will I be stuck in the house with an energetic toddler on a Saturday afternoon? I'm drinking my 2nd (and last) cup of coffee with splenda right now, so I imagine I'll be energetic as well. Guess we'll play FOLD THE LAUNDRY again. Ha, ha. HA! Ok, so this demonstrates my genius perfectly: I wanted another cup of coffee but needed to get at least one cup of green tea in today, so I made the coffee, added the splenda, stirred, then put my green tea bag in. Green tea coffee! BRILLIANT! Ok, maybe not so much. But I am killing two birds with one stone, no? Actually, scratch that. I like birds. There will be no bird killing on this blog. PETA rejoice!

Last night I wrapped up 4 weeks of Muscle Max. Today I finally mucked out my plan for the next 4 weeks: cardio per usual, a mix of kickboxing, HIIT on the elliptical, HIIT on the step and plain ol' step, 3 (but ideally 4) times per week, and then I'm going to do Maximum Intensity Strength for 4 weeks. After that my new dvds should be here, and I can add them to my rotation. I'm REALLY excited about the Imax 3 workout that I ordered, especially the premix options for when I'm short on time (which is almost ALWAYS). And the pyramid weight workout will be a nice change. I've heard great things about this particular upper and lower body split. I'm so excited! I think it's cool that I get excited about new workouts and protein powder and the like. D thinks I'm completely insane, but at least I'll be insane with a tight @$$, right? Right. Heh. (OK I AM OFFICIALLY BORED.)

Oooh! Click on over to Kek's recipe blog! Right now! CLICK! What are you waiting for?



It's safe to say that I would rather give my dog a rectal exam than listen to Sammy Hagar. I mean, if someone threatened my life or my family's safety or something and said "You have a choice: either stick this probe up your pup's back door or listen to an entire Sammy album straight through," I would be up my dog's ass in a heartbeat. I'm just sayin'. And now you know.


(Where are you going? Don't click away, come BACK!)


My very favorite part of every day is 6-7 p.m. By this time my workout is usually done and those tingly, post-exercise endorphins are rushing through my system. Ethan has finished dinner and had his bath. (Recently he's been showering with his dad and absolutely loves it. It is remarkably cute how the two of them bond, I can hardly stand it.) Anyway, after his bath I usually fix him a sippy full of juice or fruit smoothie, put out a small bedtime snack (a handful of Kix cereal or flavored mini-rice cakes are both popular selections), turn Scrubs on the tube (Ethan LOVES Scrubs. He will literally sit on my lap and direct all of his attention to that show for, like, fifteen minutes at a stretch. I have no shame, I think it's a great show for him to like. And it is a great show...), and we sit on the living room rug to color and do puzzles. That stale daycare scent has been washed from Ethan's curls. Bogart stretches out at our feet. It's my most favorite time of day, every day. And it (almost) always puts me in a good mood. I really look forward to it. It's my one hour of pure, uninterrupted, guaranteed bliss, every single day.


What's New?

Yes, what is new? Well, nothing really. While my eating and exercise are going extremely well, other areas of my life are pathetically lacking. No substance, no texture, no life. I'm absurdly bored with my job. That whole yahoooooooooo, I got a jooooooooooooob that pays weeeeeeeeeeeell, I'm a working mooooooooooooooooooooooooom! phase was over long ago. At this point if I have to scan another document for someone or pick up their FUCKING lunch, I seriously believe that I might stab myself in the eyeball with a jumbo paperclip. I feel like a fool. I can't do this forever. I won't! But what then? I have a loose Master Plan, but geeesh. I just don't know. I doubt myself often. From the simplest of tasks to the most complex, lifelong goals and achievements... I don't have faith in myself. I never have. I don't know why. I know it goes back to long long long ago, because I've been this way for as long as I can remember. I usually feel like I just don't have what it takes, so I don't even try. How sad is that? Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis sad. If I held down the i key forever, it still would not come close to demonstrating just how pathetic that fact is. *sigh*

(Oh, everyone feel sorry for Sara, boo-freaking-hoo!)



In other news, D's grandpa has been diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. This news sent me from mildly unhappy with life to straight up in a funk. I am in a funk. A funk I don't know how to rid myself of. Because life is too short to worry about how much cellulite you have on your thighs, or whether the floor is clean enough, or how your kid's stuffed animals are arranged in his room. My gawd, I am wasting my time! I feel like a waste of space. Today my boss asked me to do something in the 10 minutes I had left in my work day, and because I couldn't complete it and had to leave to get Ethan and pass the work on to my co-worker, I nearly had a nervous breakdown. I honest to gawd started CRYING. I kept thinking about D's grandpa, which lead to thoughts of my own dad (who died from cancer), which lead to thoughts about life, how short it is, how sweet it is, which lead me to ask myself WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE? And the answer is a very dark and very hollow NOTHING.

Fuck. This mood just might be due to the fact that I weaned myself off of Welbutrin in the last few weeks, I'm not sure. Screw the Welbutrin, just leave me in your garage with your car running and the door shut, please. I AM HORRIBLE.



I highly highly highly highly HIGHLY recommend that you click on over to Amyella's recipe page (and read her blog, while you're at it!), print all of her recipes out and get to cookin'. I've tried the Oat Zucchini bars and have actually started doing more cardio so that I can eat them more often (I try to consume starchy and sugary carbs post-workout only), and this afternoon I made the Crustless Meat Pizza... whoa. It's gooooooooooooood. It's really good and really, surprisingly filling. My fridge is currently stocked with a week's worth of the bars and 5 more servings of the pizza. Yum! Happy eating!


Workouts are going great. I have one more week of Muscle Max, and I increased my weight on nearly all the exercises this past week. I give partial credit to adding EAS Betagen HP orange during and post-workout, and partial credit to finally realizing that I really can almost always lift more than I think I can. Sometimes I forget that. It's the best feeling ever to dig really deep and muster up even more strength. Today marks the start of week 6 on Precision Nutrition, and I must say that I couldn't be any more pleased with my results so far. It's such an awesome program. I'm to the point where I can see what kind of killer shape I have under all the (rapidly decreasing) fluff. I'd be a fool to not keep going at this point. I'd say I'm less than 10 pounds from goal fatloss wise, and then I can start working on building up some beautiful, gorgeous muscle. Things are good. I am armed with delicious recipes, tough workouts, THE BEST whey protein powder I have ever tasted, my omega-3 caps and more motivation than I think I've ever had to totally and completely kick ass. My own and others, of course. ;)



I am so hungry today. SO.HUNGRY. GOOD because perhaps it means the metabolism is in high gear (vvrroooom, vvrrooooooom!, as Ethan would say), but also BAD because, um... well, I'm hungry.


E is home sick AGAIN. A-G-A-I-N. Frick! He had a fever yesterday and today, a fever that did not seem to respond to more cow bell. (If you laughed at that you are truly awesome. Take the rest of the day off and go buy yourself a drink, you awesome person, you.) D took him to the doctor today. My poor baby!, who just finished his antibiotics from last week's pink eye/ear infection combo, now has an upper respiratory infection and the worst diaper rash I have ever seen. He'll be ok, he's home with dada, probably watching Speed t.v. and drinking beer from a sippy cup. Male bonding, you know?


To wrap up this most exciting post, I'll tell you what is in my random desk drawer: 1 shaker bottle containing a scoop of Dymatize Elite chocolate whey protein powder (which I will drink in a few hours, yum!), 1 bottle of fish-flax-borage oil (just popped two pills with lunch), 1 orange (which I will eat in a few hours with the whey, yum!), a small box of Splenda packets, a box of Lipton flavored green tea, a box of Laci Le Beau Super Dieters Tea in cinnamon spice, 2 1.5-ounce packs of salted almonds (one of them is almost gone), 1 Myoplex Lite bar in 'chocolate chocolate chip crisp' flavor, 2 Halls sugar free cough drops, some paperclips and a travel-size bottle of lotion that I've never seen before. What's in your desk drawer?



Ever been speeding down the highway on your way to work, extremely annoyed by the idiot in front of you who has had their blinker on for, like, 8 miles, only to glance down at your dashboard to find your own blinker flashing away at you? (Mine does not flash a green arrow. Instead it now flashes a small sign that reads DUMBFUCK.)



First of all, Happy Father's Day to all the baby daddy out there! Unless you're a deadbeat that doesn't play an active part in your child's life, of course. A very UN-happy Father's Day to YOU. (Ahem, that was for my biological father. Bastard!)


I'm a wee bit hungover today because last night D and I went out to eat. I kicked the night off with a celebratory glass of Merlot before we even left the house, and since we went to a Mexican restaurant I felt the need to order a margarita. I said no to the chips and salsa and chose steak with avocado relish, mashed potatoes and grilled veggies over a greasy, cheesy, fried entree, ALL so that I could 1)have a big margarita and 2)have dessert, duh. While I feel I balanced out my food choices pretty well, I did NOT balance out my alcohol, that's for sure. That damn tequila snuck up behind me, tapped me on the shoulder and then sucker-punched me the minute I turned around. At one point BEFORE the blow but post margarita I commented to D that hey, I think I just might order a glass of wine! Great idea! but he knew what was to come after watching me slurp my grande margarita down like it was kool-aid and begged me not to. The point is, drinking is probably something that should be well thought out, not purchased impulsively because it looks "pretty". Duh, I know. What was I THINKING? Fortunately, forcing myself to do some cardio actually made me feel better, and now that I'm showered I almost feel normal. But this is my message to you, dear friends: Think before you drink.



I ordered some Betagen this afternoon, orange flavor. I'm pretty excited. If you have any important information about this product (like that it will KILL you, or something... did you read that article on Muscle Milk?), please speak now or forever hold your peace. I think I'm only going to take it during and after weight training workouts. Any suggestions?


My mom emailed me, asking if I'd link to a charity project in Denton, Texas. Not only will I link to it, mommy dearest, I'll even post your email on here and let YOU do it. (No, she never beat us with wire hangers. I'm not sure how she contained herself.) (Also, my mom doesn't capitalize anything she writes or types. I love it. I think it's a nice touch to her vegetarian lifestyle, like Oh, I won't eat meat! And I won't capitalize ANYTHING, either. I don't like meat. And I don't like capital letters, either. I think it's rad. My mom is the absolute coolest and very best. She is.) (Um, also... I'm not sure the link she sent works, but here it is anyway...) (WIDELY READ BLOG? Muahahahaha! Heh!)

hi! i was wondering if you would post something about this on your blog.
it's a project of making afghans for kids at cancer camps, this lady in denton
is running it. everyone makes a square (or more) and sends it to her, then they
are assembling the afghans right in our very own library next month. SO if you
could mention it with this link < http://thiseclecticlife.com/2007/06/14/searching-for-people-with-big-hearts/ > in your widely read blog, i would appreciate it!



What is everyone reading lately? I've read and read and reread and reread and re-reread my Precision Nutrition binder eighteen hundred times, I thumbed through the latest issue of Parents magazine a few days ago, and Ethan and I read Brown Bear, Brown Bear and The Very Hungry Caterpillar religiously, but otherwise I haven't read a suck-me-in-and-spit-me-out good book in a very, very, very long time. I need suggestions! What are you currently reading? (Mom and Megan, my two favorite librarians in the whole wide world, can you give me some suggested reading?)


I've been eating these delicious blueberry bran muffins post-workout. Even Ethan likes 'em! The recipe is from John Berardi's website, but I'll post it here for your convenience, because I like you very much:

Blueberry Bran Muffins

These little treats are made from low-GI carbs, so you don’t have to worry about eating one or two after a P+C meal. They also have a bit of flax meal to add moisture, and just a couple of polyunsats. I’ve been eating these for a while and loving them, so recently I gave them the final test by taking a batch to a dinner party, complete with professors and their wives. Success! They were reduced to crumbs, followed with compliments about their taste, rather than their ingredients.


1 cup oat bran
½ cup flax meal
4 scoops protein powder, flavor of your choice (I like chocolate with this recipe).
2/3 cup frozen blueberries
1 cup granulated Splenda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
3 jumbo egg whites
1 teaspoon maple extract
2/3 cup water


Mix the dry ingredients together in a large bowl, then add the egg whites, extract, and water. Stir until mixed well. Scoop into a muffin pan coated with cooking spray. Bake at 350-degrees for 25 minutes.

Makes 6 large muffins.

Macronutrient Profile (each muffin):
K/cal: 176
Fat: 4 g (1s, 1m, 2p)
Carbs: 20g (4 fiber)
Protein: 21 g


I'm in the market for a new workout dvd, but I can't decide which one to get: Push/Pull + Supersets, Slow & Heavy, or Upper/Lower body Pyramid. I'm leaning more towards purchasing the Pyramid dvd, simply because it's unlike anything I already own and would add some welcome variety to my current 4-week weight training rotation. I'm also considering adding a BCAA/Glutamine recovery drink during and after weight training, but I'm torn. Has anyone tried Xtreme Formulations ICE? Gosh, I sure am needy today. Sorry about that.


JB pushes fish and flax oil like it's some sort of magic, anti-aging serum, but I'm starting to see where he's coming from. I've been taking Omega 3-6-9 fish, flax and borage oil a few times a day for almost 4 weeks now, and I can't believe how great I feel. My skin is glowing, nary a blemish in site. (I'm sure I'll wake up with one hell of a crater tomorrow for saying that.) My nails are stronger and less brittle. My hair is shiny. Probably best of all is that my usual premenstrual cravings are half as severe as they were before. I really do notice a difference! I'm still a total bitch come that time of the month, don't get me wrong. Poor D could breathe the wrong way and I'd file for divorce. (Is "Consumes too much oxygen and leaves muddy shoes on living room rug" a listed reason on the forms?) But I no longer feel the need to eat an entire gallon of double chocolate ice cream, a canister of cream cheese frosting and a whole box of whatever cereal is housed atop the fridge. Last month I didn't even realize it was PMS week until after it had passed. That's one Snickers bar short of a miracle, I tell you.


Whenever Ethan sees me naked he loudly exclaims "NAKED MUNNY!". If he sees D naked he'll scream "NAKED DADDY!". He calls me mommy or mama, so I'm not exactly sure why I'm naked MUNNY. It's cute though. Perhaps he senses that I was a stripper in a past life and associates my nakedness with money. Now that I think about it, that's quite a compliment! See, Precision Nutrition WORKS!


Over and Over and Over AGAIN...

Ethan was dancing around the living room watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on the Disney channel when I noticed an all too familiar "glisten" in his right eye. Upon closer inspection I concluded that yep, pink eye again. By again I mean the fourth time in four months. This is total insanity! I google pink eye every time he gets it, hoping that a new breakthrough cure has been found since the last time he had it. Poor baby! His eye is swollen and oozing a green discharge, which leads me to believe it is bacterial and not viral. I'm just waiting to get fired from my job because I've missed work for PINK EYE exactly 13,455,583 times. What can you do, ya know? I'll definitely talk to the doctor about what we can do to stop this madness, whether we should switch daycare facilities or not, and if, perhaps, we haven't administered the medication correctly/often enough/for long enough in the past and that's why he seems to get it every other flipping day. Who knows. Only two things are certain: Ethan has pink eye and it totally blows fat donkey nuts. Totally.

Despite that downer we followed through with our plans for the day (before his eye got really bad) and finally took E to the zoo. HE FLIPPED over EVERYTHING! It was awesome. It was awesome but so, so, sooooooooooooo very hot. We arrived at 9:30 a.m. and left at 11:30, and when we finally collapsed into our car I felt as though we'd been traveling in the desert with no water. Damn Louisiana summers! Hot and humid and just plain nasty. It's wrong when you start to sweat from walking at .000001 miles per hour at ten o'clock in the morning. Also, do you realize what this weather does to my hair? It's not pretty. Unless we magically flash back to 1972, it's not really the look I'm trying to achieve.

Anyway, so the zoo was awesome and we spent a trillion dollars in the stupid gift shop because look, look, a stuffed elephant! Never mind that Ethan doesn't give two craps about all the stuffed tigers and bears and bunnies he already has, must buy more stuffed animals. It's a sickness. (ALSO: $2 for a 20-oz. bottle of Minute Maid fruit punch? Seriously? Did it come with a shot of heroin?)

So, unless E's eye magically de-crusts itself overnight, I'm off work tomorrow with the red-eyed monster. Cross your fingers and toes that I score an early doctor appointment with zero wait, and that the pharmacy fills E's eye drop Rx in 20 seconds or less. (I should lower my expectations, I know. I realize that I'm setting myself up for a big letdown.)


So, how 'bout that UN-diet?

I've been avoiding posting, I think, subconsciously and maybe now not so much, because I was totally all up on my non-diet, Sara-wannabe high horse, and that horse threw me into the mud and trampled on my head several weeks ago. I get really irritated when people are wishy-washy, and now I'm tucking my tail between my legs and hiding under the couch. I think that in my case, I needed to find out what was more important to me: eating anything whenever I wanted it but being heavier than I would like to be, or restricting what I eat to some extent but feeling great in my own skin. Very few people can truly eat whateverthehell they want and still be fit and trim and lean. Everyone has to regulate to some extent, am I right? And it goes further than that; you start to really realize how food makes you feel, how it affects your mood, skin, hair... etc.etc.etc. Not to knock off Skwigg, but sanity really did arrive in the form of Precision Nutrition. Now that I've been following it for 3 weeks, I'm kicking myself for not buying it sooner. I went from eating 3-5 servings of fruits and veggies most days to eating at least 10 every single day. I'm now a dedicated fish oil consumer. I haven't purchased a pre-packaged meal in almost a month. In other words, I'm training hard and eating well, eating a ton actually, NOT counting a damn thing (except maybe the massive amounts of produce I eat daily, and that's just for my own personal enjoyment) and am honestly loving every minute of it. So. There you go. Non-dieting got my 5'5" frame up to 150 pounds, and 3 weeks of PN got me back down to 144 as of last Thursday, without counting calories. That's the kicker. That's why I love it and can follow the program with ease. PN was worth every penny, though if you're really ambitious you could totally get the gist of the program by reading all the articles on johnberardi.com, and getting a free account (and free access) to the Precision Nutrition forums and online resources. (I just saved you $108. Thank me now, thank me later... I'll probably get kicked out of the forums for it.)

So, I don't want to blather on about diet anymore. I'm doing great and I feel like this program was freaking designed for my ex-disordered eating ass, and I don't want to jinx myself by talking about it too much. That's all I have to say about that. *dusts hands and walks away*


Fun fact 'o' the day: My office in Baton Rouge is the EXACT SAME OFFICE that Master P used while stationed in Baton Rouge. We still get mail for No Limit Productions, and this makes me waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too giddy, every single time. I daydream about him coming by one day to pick up his mail. We'd talk, he'd compliment my eyes, take me out to lunch, and soon I'd be working for him. No Limit Sara. (That could also be a porn name, if you think about it.) (P.S. I DO have limits, but thanks.)


Ethan is talking in sentences now, or at least putting two or more words together. "More please..." "THERE it is!" "Love you!" "Truck, vrooooom, VROOOOM!" He seriously looks like he's 12 years old now. Every evening after bath time, D and I sprawl on the rug with him and we just stare and laugh in awe of his cuteness, curiosity, wit, humor, and the fact that he is ours. Oh, and for the record, there has been no more passing out since the cheeto-puke incident, but I have taken care to say NO less and instead opt for the distraction method. "No, you can't stick your brush in the toilet, but... uh... shit... OH! HEY! LOOK! Look at... look at this totally awesome stale cracker in the corner! Mmm..." Hey, whatever works. Don't knock me until you have your own kid. Then you will see, oh yes... you will see. (Madness.) (Total madness.) Also, we are getting our camera fixed next weekend, and that means pictures and pictures and more pictures. I'm back to posting daily (ahem, give or take...), so even if I've nothing smart to say (which is actually really almost always the case) I can plaster my son and dog and pictures of my biceps all over the place. I'm sure you've nearly injured yourself with excitement.


Kek has convinced me to not start saving for a boob job, not yet anyway. Anyone care to sway me the other direction? Do I have any readers in the porn industry?


Did you watch the MTV Movie Awards? I love Sarah Silverman. I have another wee girl crush, it seems. She totally crossed the line, and I don't mean put your big toe over the line for a minute and then recoil in fear... she completely hurled herself over the line, like fifty times. She's rad. Is she still dating Jimmy Kimmel?


Is anyone doing Turbulence Training or Afterburn? I'd love to here what you think about either program. This post simply could not have been thought out or organized any better, for clearly I am a genius whose thought process rivals that of a dead slug. Enjoy your weekend!



I want fake boobs. I was a double D for most of my adult life until pregnancy, when I ballooned to a triple Z... after breastfeeding for a year, my boobs are spent. It's like they felt as though they'd fulfilled their duty in this life, and they slowly faded away. Gone forever. FOREVER. Unless, of course, I pay a doctor a few grand to slice me open and pump my sorry excuse for a chest full of saline or silicone or gummy bears, whatever it is that they're using these days. Guess I'd better do my homework if this is something I really want to consider. And just think, it will probably be the only $5,000 purchase I ever make for myself that doesn't require me to promise endless sexual favors to my husband. MEN ARE PIGS.


Ethan has moved from fussy McFussalot land to cutie McCutiepieville in the last few days. He was sick, then teething again, then had an ear infection. He was... less than pleasant. Now he's so much fun! Social and adventurous and smart, oh so smart, and he dances and runs and giggles and gives kisses and chases the dog, and on and on and on. He climbs now, too, which is terrifying. Nothing good about that as far as I'm concerned. Babies should stay on the ground, that's what I think, period. Christ. I AM A TOTAL MESS.

Anyway, he's awesome 99% of the time. The other 1% is filled with tantrums like I've never seen. Ethan will throw one of these tantrums over something as simple as, oh, me having to take his sippy cup away to re-fucking-fill it for him, and last week he freaked because he had to take a bath. Oh my. I put him in the tub per the usual and he screamed and screamed and screamed. And then, he stopped screaming. He was doing the silent scream. Mouth wide open, red-faced, teary-eyed... AND NOT BREATHING. Not breathing for, like, a minute. A WHOLE MINUTE. He started to turn purple and blue. I FLIPPED. I snatched him up from the tub, urging him to breathe, baby, breathe! I laid him down on the wood floor in the hallway and called for Drew, who came rushing over in a panic. I started to think he had something stuck in his throat. At this point he was totally blue, and I honest to God thought he was going to die. My next step was to turn him over on my forearm and do the back thrust, but then he started breathing again. I collapsed in a heap and just lost it. I have never, EVER, been so scared in my life. I have never been more worried. Drew stayed strong, hugged me, told me it was alright. After I got it together and carried on with Ethan's bath, I heard Drew sobbing from the living room. It was that bad. It was scary, that's all I can really say.

Later I called my mom to explain what had happened. Oh, yeah, you kids used to do that too, she said. Wha? This is normal? To get so angry that you STOP BREATHING!? She also informed me that, DUH, if he holds his breath for too long he'll just pass out and start breathing again. Ah ha! The VERY NEXT DAY I wanted to vacuum when I got home from work, but Ethan wanted me to hold him and vacuum. That wasn't happening. So, I let him throw a fit in the middle of the rug while I quickly vacuumed around him. He did the silent scream again. I picked him up after he'd held his breath for way too long, and he went limp in my arms. He passed out! Not 2 seconds later his eyes fluttered open, he puked on my arm (which gave me proof that his dad had fed him baked cheetos for dinner) and was fine.

Sometimes I just don't know about all this. I mean, damn, ya know? Sheesh.

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