There’s Calories in Air, I’m Sure Of It!

D2 suggested I try My Fitness Pal to help me with tracking my calories and hopefully shedding some pounds.  She set it up on my phone and set a goal for me.  The calorie counting at the top tells you how much you have to spend and how much you have used with every documented morsel you decide to tell it you have eaten.  I thought it was a great idea, since she has been using it for a week now and really is getting the hang of it.  I thought it would be a great mother-daughter bonding thing.

 So, I was using it today, the FIRST day, and already it’s yelling at me.  “I THOUGHT WE WERE WATCHING OUR CARBOHYDRATES?!”   “HEY, MORON, I THOUGHT WE WERE WATCHING OUR SUGAR INTAKE!”  “THERE’S SUGAR IN CHOCOLATE!”  “WE ARE VERY CLOSE TO OUR DAILY CALORIE INTAKE AND IT’S ONLY 10AM!”

I’m starting to think My Fitness Pal is really My Calorie Asshole Nazi and I’m not enjoying it.

I think I’ll put in that I ate three Big Macs and doubled down on a two litre of Coca-Cola and see if it goes into any spasms of outrage.  Maybe it will self-destruct.  Maybe it will automatically email everybody and set up a food intervention circle.

That would be great as long as somebody brings the wine…

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Confessions of a Chocoholic

SHARE?!!  I think not!

SHARE?!! I think not!

For centuries, chocolate has been portrayed as a natural luxury food. A treat that can only be consumed when broken hearted or stressed. For example, your fiancee just ran off with your maid of honour and you are feeling lost and abandoned. Instead of crying on your Mommy’s shoulder, however, you head to the nearest variety store and buy one hundred Mars bars to help ease the pain. After just one bite, you feel a bit better. Not ready to jump back into a relationship with the store owner’s son…but, not really wanting to throw yourself from the nearest bridge, either. Your blood sugar has evened out. Your mood has improved. You no longer feel the need to be all stabby…your best friend is not so lucky, but it can’t cure EVERYTHING. Scientific fact.
Example two – your boss just landed a huge project on your desk – due tomorrow. What do you do? Why head to the nearest vending machine and throw every quarter you have into it and buy all the chocolate you can find, of course. You sit pie-eyed eating mounds of chocolate hoping one iota of an idea can enter your wee brain before it explodes into a dark chocolate haze. That idea comes slowly at first, then in a wave of undeniable clarity, an idea springs forth from the depths of your magical imagination that is sure to make you the boss’ pet. You type the best proposal in a wild moment of such intellectual fortitude the likes of which you have never seen before. The serotonin in your brain has just had a metaphorical kick in the ass, and you are on the fast track to partnership. Scientific fact.
The wonder drug?
Chocolate.
You betcha.
There’s something about chocolate that eases my pain, or takes away that bit of grief or stress that often hounds me. It has a magical property that I just can’t live without. Maybe it’s the high sugar content; maybe it’s the caffeine; or maybe it’s just a wicked combination of both to which I’m addicted. Either way, I can’t help myself and fall a victim to its power… daily.
Chocolate has become sexy, have you noticed? Any commercial advertising a chocolate bar or the tiniest square of chocolate, has a sexy model with deep red lipstick, licking her lips and staring sensually at the camera. I realize, we all wear out lipstick when we eat chocolate and go around licking our lips because of its deliciousness, but I hesitate to think it as any type of aphrodisiac…but maybe it is. Maybe in some ancient time, chocolate was considered such a rare type of magical treat, that women used it to ‘get their man’. Maybe Cleopatra seduced Mark Antony by putting chocolate in his drink, or slipping him a bite here and there…
Since this post is titled “Confessions” I must confess the lengths I would go to get me some chocolate goodness…So, here:
I eat the chocolate chips right out of the bag. There is no chance any cookies or baked goods will contain chocolate chips unless you buy them and immediately use them. Truth.
I stash bags of chocolate in my car glove compartment for emergencies… like driving.
I keep quarters in a Styrofoam coffee cup on my desk for times when I have to make an emergency run to the chocolate almond vending machine…like three o’clock every afternoon.
Halloween used to be my fave time of year…until all my kids grew up and now don’t go trick-or-treating. Now, I buy extra treats knowing I’ll have some left over after the big night. Unless I leave Hubby in charge as I head to the neighbours for a drink or three, and he happens to find it and gives it away to the last few trick-or-treaters who come to the door.
Dammit!
Christmas is right around the corner and I am confident that there will be some chocolate goodness in ma stocking…or under the tree for me. It’s pretty much a given.
There are no lengths I will not go to get a bit of chocolate sweetness, so next time you have a sweet treat around…watch out. I could be following the scent….

TRUTH!!

TRUTH!!

The Positives of Positivity

I wanted to write another Top Ten, but since I couldn’t come up with anything original or interesting for you folks, you’re stuck with whatever pops into ma head next. Soooo….summer is over.

How’s that for positivity?

The fall winds have begun to blow and there goes summer, gone in a puff. What happened? Summer is so brief around here, we have to relish every second. And for the most part, we did. There were barbeques, regattas, birthdays, hot days (rare, but July was one of the hottest here…yay for me!), reading, swearing, drinking which led to more swearing, and finally vacay…2.0. It was awesome and we are all still friends, which is a tribute to great friendships but even better to rum. Yeah.

The dog survived her two and half weeks away from us, the house stood without spontaneously combusting, the cars remained intact and we are all still in one piece…no bumps, no scars but a little bruised…still not sure what that was from.

The girls are back to university, the kid is in his first year of high school (Gawd, I’m old) and I am still here.
Another year ahead of hockey, (ugh) part-time jobs, weekends with the ‘hood, working, writing and hubby complaining…because I think that’s his favorite hobby.

I think New Year’s resolutions should be made in the fall, that way we can make them while we are still in a good mood from the summer. Everything is still bright and shiny like the new pencils we bought for school and our new running shoes we got for gym.

I have some plans and I hope they get to see the light of day. In the meantime, let’s stay positive and keep on going.

I told a student today, baby steps baby. Think of last year and all the great strides you’ve made to get right here where you are today. A simple thing like walking into a building can be the biggest accomplishment you have…so take that and run with it. Doesn’t matter how big or small it is to anyone else…it only matters how big it is to you.

So, what have you accomplished this year?

Me…I’ve decided to become more inspiring…more motivational and positive. Turn stuff around so it looks better from the other side. Sometimes, all it takes is a different perspective.

So, have a great week peeps! And stay positive.

Remember…You. Are. Awesome.

Barney awesome

 

Just Don’t Ask Me To Carry the Cake

I live in a place where sunshine is a rare event, so when we do get it, we should declare it a holiday and allow everybody to run around in it, lounge in it, drink in it, barbeque in it, garden in it, walk in it, swim in it and basically enjoy the fuck out of it. Especially the drinking part…especially that. So the sun actually appeared in the sky today and I had to stay at work. Apparently the whole, ‘It’s a  holiday when the sun shines’ isn’t a thing yet. MAKE IT SO, NUMBER ONE!

The impending birthday bash of the century is around the corner in case you were unaware, and my sis-in-law has taken the unfortunate role of delegating a few basic duties to me, which causes grave concern on my part. I have the capacity to fuck shit up without even being on crack…or hammered. So, here is the list of stuff she may or may not want me to do for MOTHER-IN-LAW’S 80TH BIRTHDAY BASH! She may want to revisit a few of these:

1. Getting napkins with the number 80 on them…so, apparently this is a hot commodity these days and I was forced to resist the urge to get the ‘Rockin’ 80’s’ napkins at the Party Place…soooo had them in my hand, but daughter assured me Nanny wouldn’t appreciate ma sense of humor…ugh

2. Cooking. A dangerous task to be assigned… I am, or will be, or may have to be, responsible for cooking a turkey…or 5. Depending on how much I fuck up the other 4 and how many old people will remember to show up for the festivities…should be interesting.
3. Decorating the place where the party will be held which is unknown to me because apparently it’s on a ‘need to know’ basis…not sure how that works with the invited guests…will it be like a scavenger hunt and everybody is given clues to the hidden location and only the ones smart enough to figure it out will actually be in attendance? I’m down with that…half the peeps will end up hanging out at the bar…with me. Nothing like sharing a beer with an old person…

4. Gift for Nanny…since Nanny doesn’t wear jewelry or perfume, that knocks out a lot of gifts. She has knick-knacks beyond knick-knack sensibility and has no need for anything useful like a garlic press…who doesn’t need a garlic press?! Ugh, anyways, this is getting a bit tired so I have to delegate this duty to daughters and son…the garlic press is on its way with the electric knife. BECAUSE EVERYBODY NEEDS AN ELECTRIC KNIFE OTHERWISE HOW WOULD ONE CUT UP THE HOMEMADE BREAD TO MAKE THE BLESSED GARLIC BREAD? See? It all makes sense…

I wish Sis-in-law the best of luck pulling this thing off without me dropping anything, breaking anything or losing any of the gifts en route to the mystery party location…which I will invariably get lost on the way to….
Oh, yeah…there’s wine in this for me, right? RIGHT??!!

80 is the new 70...or something like that.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY...

80 is the new 70…or something like that. HAPPY BIRTHDAY…

 

 

In Search of The Sun

The cold winds of a winter that have held on to us with their icy grasp have continued to blow and I can’t help but wonder if it will ever end. I’m thinking my down coat will forever become fastened permanently into my wardrobe like the houseguest that refuses to leave. The idea of a warm spring has vanished along with the dreams of gardening a bit early and a green lawn by June. If the weather doesn’t soon cooperate with my yearning for warmth, I could be forced to celebrate another Christmas season a few whole seasons too early. At least with Christmas, there’s some iota of merriment and good cheer. Right now, it’s only dismal loathing of the continual grey skies and minus temperatures. I think I saw a robin shiver this morning. Ugh.
The only bright light on the horizon is the hope of sunny skies, and eventual day or two of above freezing temps. Other than that, we slug along and continue to hope, rescuing our spurned gloves and hats from the bin marked WINTER SHIT for yet another day of arctic air and snowy forecasts. I’ve given in to the notion that my running shorts will only come in to use for that one spectacular day in July when the Gods of Summer bless us with a few hours of sun and heat, and we forget all the polar vortexes and frozen windshields of the previous months. That one cloudless day when we can actually go outside, peel off our winterized coats and outerwear and revel in the warmth of the sun and the glorious hours of daylight we have been envisioning all the long winter. That one dream-like day when the sun shines out of the skies like a beacon of glory and heat, beaming its rays upon our skin, vanquishing the toxic frost that seems to have formed in our bones.
Until such a day, I sit at my desk in my down parka, my fingers numb with the icy bite of cold, my nose dripping from the frosty air, hoping for a glimpse of that big ball of fire we used to call SUN….

Look!  There it is!  Ahhh...warm....

Look! There it is! Ahhh…warm….

 

 

 

Get Out the Shovel, Kids. We Be Hunting Easter Eggs

The warm winds of spring came blowing this morning and in an unusually inspired move, I threw on my running shoes and headed out for the first run of the season. I didn’t die, which is something! I knew it wouldn’t be pretty, but it also wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. I didn’t push too hard and I remained steady…everything else did too. Luckily for me, there was barely anybody out and about ( no, it’s not ‘oot and aboot’..fuck off) so I was virtually invisible! Invisibility is ever so useful (Gawd I’m turning British as I write this. “Evah so wonderful, Fletcha! Fletcha?!” ) I should have Potter’s cloak since I could use it for good and not evil…most of the time. Did I mention I’m planning WORLD DOMINATION through invisibility? No? Huh. Kinda explains ma absence from the world as of late, huh? Huh? I digress….
Anyways, now that I’ve rediscovered my running bug, the weather should cooperate…BECAUSE I SAID SO. It won’t I’m sure, but one can hope. A foot of snow, anybody? Yeah…should be inundating ma driveway by ohhh…SATURDAY MAYBE??!! Ugh.
Happy Easter, Damnit! Here’s some snow and happy shoveling! I hid the chocolate Easter eggs under the mountain of snow and ice, kids. Good luck finding them! Just think how overjoyed you’ll be when you dig through the snow with one of those plastic shovels you use at the beach, and find a practically frozen chocolate egg stuck to the pavement on the driveway. In a spirited display of Easter verve, the neighbour gets out the blow torch and melts that sucker until it’s no longer stuck and just a puddle of chocolate ooziness all over the clean semi-dry pavement. Yummmm….. Don’t get chocolate all over your mittens, kid. Somebody has to clean that shit up! Yay Easter!

These babies are going diving in the snow

These babies are going diving in the snow

Maybe I should hide eggs in the shed, too. Put some in the snow blower so when Hubby goes to use it, EGGS GO A’FLYIN’ !! It’ll be like the turkey toss from WKRP that went horribly awry, only with chocolate eggs flying through the air. The neighbours should watch out, lest they lose an eye from a bulleting Easter egg hurtling through space. “Pat! Duck! You almost got winged by that pretty purple Easter Egg!”


With any luck, her cat will eat it….
Ahhh….it’s all fun until somebody loses an eye.
Happy Easter and play safe with those eggs. No, you can’t borrow my blow torch…I’ll need it come Sunday morning. We’ll be making smores and singing Kumbaya in hopes Spring will return before June…

 

Expiration Dates

Based on my level of joy over the return of refrigerator operation in my kitchen yesterday, I’m thinking I will pee myself with over-the-top excitement at the prospect of finally having my fireplace fixed with actual heat emanating from it.  The downward spiral of malfunctioning household equipment started with an expired water heater (it expired all over my basement floor), then the blower in the fireplace refused to blow any heat (it was like it was on strike or something) and culminated in the all-out total short-out and horrible death scene from my fridge. After a few sparks flew, it finally said ‘fuck this’ and quit.  No ‘good bye’, no ‘see ya around’ , no ‘it’s been nice, but I’ve had it’ tirades, just a few sparky moments and total blackness.  Thanks, Fridge.  Nice knowin’ ya, too.

The speedy repairman only took 30mins to fix what was wrong, but it took 2 weeks for the replacement part to arrive at my doorstep.  I love efficiency!

 That should be it for the malfunctioning appliances for a while…I hope. I remain ever optimistic at the prospect of having everything in working order simultaneously without short-outs, leaks, weird grinding noises or agonizing deaths by electrical sensors for the next couple of days at least.  I hope I’m not TOO optimistic…come to think of it, I take all that back. I don’t want to entice the Universe into fucking with my car or D1’s car or have son spontaneously combust or have a random window pane randomly become loose and fly across the street and break on the neighbour’s cat (wait…).  That could happen…I’ll shut up now.

I’ve been ranting about son’s hockey fundraising, hockey practices…just hockey shit in general, for the past few months.  It bothers me.  Seriously, I have a disorder about hockey.  It’s kinda scary, really.  I know very few people who suffer from Hockeyphobiatitis, but I have that.  I know I do.  It’s like a tumor that seeps into your brain and every time somebody mentions the word ‘hockey’ one goes into spasms of sweary-filled tirades of ire and physical convulsions that rival a dance-off between Carlton (from Fresh Prince..old show) and Elaine from Seinfeld.  It’s like the Tourrette’s squirrel with more sweariness and less cuteness…

I’m lucky that only one of my children participates in that sport, otherwise, I would have to find a good therapist and invest shares in a vineyard somewhere so I could get a discount on my alcoholism…seriously.

The hockey season is coming to a close…by April, I’m hoping.  So until then, you won’t find me at a rink near you, but if you do, I’ll be the one with the bottle of booze wrapped in the paper bag while singing “Oh Canada” and yelling obscenities at the referees…at least, I think that’s what everybody else does.

MY KIDS LOVE ME….