Pantry Palaver

Exercise:  It’s not for breakfast anymore.  Usually it is for brunch, sometimes dinner, because I put it off as long as possible.  I know this is not healthy or productive, but I do it.  If I am really determined, I will put on my exercise clothes and play mind games with myself until I lose.  I can filibuster for hours (Congress ain’t got nothin’ on me), but the tight spandex shorts continually squeezing the life out of me remind me WHY I need to go.  It’s like the Biggest Loser in my head, with a touch of the 5 stages of grieving.  I can flash through all the stages like..like.. I don’t know what.  Something really fast.  Sometimes it happens when I am standing in the pantry looking for something to help me kill time, like potatoe chips or candy.

Denial:  I look OK – even though I am down to one pair of pants and a MuMu dress, it’s all good.  No one will see the muffin top that is overflowing this sweet sweet muffin. Everybody loves a muffin.  If I don’t button the top button and hold my breath, I look gooooodddd!!! Bow Chicka Wow Wow.  And besides, I just gave birth (15 years ago-shut up), who would expect me to be out there exercising already?  These running shorts must just run small, they are a little pinchy.   Although, I could just wear them all day and it would be OK.  I think.    Would you look at all those cans of tuna?  Yeah, 5 cans of tuna is probably too much tuna, but you never know when you will need it – it is good for apocalyptic planning.  Maybe, I don't know.

Anger:  It’s all America’s fault.  Really the universe’s fault – if I were born in Sweden, I would be thin and svelte.  Damn America and Sweden. Damn them all.  And then there’s my childhood and how it shaped my eating (yum, mashed potatoes and meatloaf).  Why didn’t they feed me salad?  Or Quinoa?  (When did I buy that? What was I thinking?) Why did we have to eat meals at home? Homemade bread and jam? Why, Mom, why?  Fricken shorts.  Ooooo, I didn’t know we had mac n cheese.

Bargaining:  There is pie in the fridge.  The last piece of pie will give me energy to run faster because of the sugar.  This will be the last piece of pie I will ever eat.  If I can eat this piece, I will run everyday. I will run far, and I will run wide.  And I will run hills.  Well, not today…. but I will do it in a month.  A month is reasonable, right? Then, I won’t run the risk of hurting myself by setting too high of goal.  Pie for a hill in a month. Deal?  Yes, thank you Bob; I will take what is behind refrigerator door #1. Screw the pantry, the fridge is where’s it’s at.

Depression:  It’s no use.  It’s nearly noon, and my toes are turning blue.  (These shorts are really too tight.) I really need to clean out the silverware drawer of all those crumbs before the kids get home and notice. What kind of parent am I anyway? My kids are going to think I am a bad housekeeper – if they think about me at all.  Why do they have to grow up?  What is the meaning of life?  Who left the empty box of fruit snacks in the pantry?  I wish the dog would quit scratching at the door – I’m in the pantry for God’s sake, give me a break.

Hey look, I found the Halloween candy.

Acceptance: I don’t look OK, the shorts are tight because they are tight, I love mashed potatoes, Sweden would have been nice, I love bread and jam too, my kids are feral – they don’t even use silverware, let alone notice what’s in the bottom of the drawer.  And they have grown up – thank you baby Jesus.  Halloween candy is a little stale in August, but who’s looking at expiration dates??

Then, the very last stage:

Tough Love Honey Badger Style:  Jillian and Bob don’t give a shit.  Get yo lazy bum up and out of the house.  You don’t belong on this show, or in a pantry.  Muffin tops are for muffins, not for your American hips. Ugly criers never get what they want.  The pantry is a small stuffy place full of food you bought but will never eat.

And off I go. Out of the pantry to get my running shoes.

Damn. 

“No pleasure, no pain” as an inebriated friend of mine once said.  (Not sure what that means, but it was funny at the time!)

Old tootsie rolls are good fuel.

Real Blogging-Not Clogging

So, this is going to be like a real blog this week. I've been reading other people's blogs and they talk about what they have been doing.  So that is what I am going to do this week.
I hope something good comes of it.

This is what I have been up to:

I did my first underwater summersault.  Lame, I know, because this is something small children know how to do.  But, I am a small child swimmer, I guess.  I was very happy.  I didn't drown.  Always a bonus for me.  It was only in 4 feet of water, but it seemed like a long way down to the bottom of the pool.  I have to be on the lookout for such dangers.  I am very safety conscious.  My friends said I did a handstand too, but I think that was stretching it.  I guess I can check that aquatic summersault acrobatics off my bucket list right after I make one.

My husband's sister is in town. So far, so good.  No casualties.  Yet.

My crazy puppy graduated from her 2nd dog training class.  She came in 2nd in the class.  I think she would have come in 1st but we think there was doping involved.  She is crazy still.  They can't train that out of her.  She ate my sister-in-law's camera.  Bad dog.  Obviously, she will be enrolled in the next go round.  The dog, not my sister in law.  We are going for the gold.  I think I will teach her to talk. The dog, not my sister-in-law. Ruh Roh.

We all were going camping, but chickened out because we didn't reserve a site and didn't want to get stuck at a lame-o site (ie a parking lot with a port o potty).  There isn't enough box wine to make that OK.
We went to our beach house instead.  This was good and bad.  Good because I got to sleep in a real bed, bad because it was my house.

My son did not join us.  He is a camp counselor all summer and has decided that we are not all that we were cracked up to be.  But, our house and hot tub is still the bomb.  He has been somewhat banned from those things.  It doesn't look like he cares much.  We haven't seen him much since the shunning and banning took place.  We didn't actually ban him, just his posse of smelly friends that he brings with him without notice.  That and the samarai sword fruit slicing/baseball game he apparently played in our back yard when we weren't home.  We just wanted a flight plan.  Not possible when you are a flying squirrel, I guess.  I hope to see him in about a week.  I will probably smell him coming.

We boated, crabbed, ate and drank.
And did lots and lots of dishes.
Oh and we made the most excellent s'mores with Jr mints and peanut butter cups.

We also pruned the vineyard.  Which is very green this time of year.  The grapes are too.  I am toying with the idea of selling my grape jelly.  Not sure this is a good idea because a small business is still big work. "Small" and "business" should not be used in the same sentence.  For many reasons.
Anyway, I can make a boat load of jelly from all those fricken grapes.  But, then I would be at the Saturday markets selling my wares like a gypsy.  With my long flowing gown and a tamborine.  Only not as glamerous as a gypsy.  Just me and jars and jars of grape jelly.  And other gypsies. (no offense to real business people who are at the saturday markets -- I am not a real business person, obviously.  I am a gypsy.  Also, no offense to gypsies.  I am not even sure what a gypsy is except for what Cher taught me in her song, "Gypsy Tramps and Thieves".)  I am not even a gypsy.  Just a grape jelly lady.  I met a jelly lady on  Saturday at a Market in a nearby small town.  She was not pleasant.  I might turn into her.  Unpleasant with crap-loads of jelly to unload.  No wonder she was unpleasant.  Too many jars of jelly I suppose,  and maybe she was all the more unpleasant because I was plying her for her jelly secrets. A little on edge.  Who woulda thought? Ila, give it a break, will you?  I almost went all gypsy on her.

Saw that they offer clogging in the nearby town.  Now that is something.  I wonder if Ila goes there.

Clog Heaven: Me & Ila

I also primed the outside shower with my husband.  It is not as glamorous or as fun as it sounds, you know.  It was hot.  And not hot in a good way.  And we couldn't even turn on the shower.  That's what my husband said.  And he read the back of the can.  Smarty pants.  What ev.

We have a big party out there in a week so we had to clean our house like there was no tomorrow.  I blame Martha Stewart for my need to have everything perfect.  She taught me that if you try your hardest, things will be perfect.  I know she is crazy, but now I am crazy too.  Damn you Martha.  That is the real reason she should have gone to prison.  For all the delusions and crazy craft thoughts she put in people's, innocent people's, heads.  She lives on in me like a dark knight.  Maybe on the morning of the party I will go out and collect the morning dew from the grass to sprinkle on my salad.  And then try to cook something in the microwave -- even though I have a perfectly good working oven and stove.  Can you spell, distortion, Martha?

I also went to a golf auction dinner fund raiser.  I didn't golf, just ate.  My husband golfed and did quite well from what I can ascertain.  His "team", or little herd of golfers, got 2nd place. He spoke golf-ese to me -- used words like "birdie" and "handicap" that really don't mean what I know them to mean in the real world.  But I went with it and nodded and smiled.  I really should learn about it, but it is a little boring, so I thought about other things.  He got a certificate to go buy a golf shirt.  I was so glad to have gone so I could stop him from buying his ump-teenth ugly golf shirt, but the pro shop was closed.  I guess I can now say he has an ump-teenth and one ugly golf shirt. Damn.

Oh, and during all this, I neglected to exercise.  Nothing has really happened as a result of that except that I am round like a ball.  Ever tried to dress a ball? There is a fair amount of wrestling involved.

I'm sure I did all kinds of other things, but they do not come to mind. You should probably be relieved.

And now I am lying in my bed, where most bloggers blog from, I think.  It's not as comfortable as you would think wearing clogs in bed.  Ila, what are you doing tonight?

Hey...

I did not drop off the face of the earth -- I took a little hiatus.  A tiny vacation of sorts.  But, I hope that I will get my groove back by tomorrow morning when my next blog is due.  My fingers and toes are crossed.