Weight Watchers, or Self-Disappointment

The other day Mike and I met up with some friends at an Ypsi bar. We hadn't seen a few of them in a while, and one of them, the wife of my coworker, looked great--half the size she'd been before, it seemed. She went on to explain that she'd lost 30 lbs on Weight Watchers. All present extolled the virtues of Weight Watchers (as they'd heard from those who had completed it). I, however, slunk back into my chair.

Why? I too had once lost 30 lbs on Weight Watchers. I'd been ecstatic. I'd sworn I'd be one to keep it off. And here I was, having gained almost all of it back. 

Every few months I look at myself in the mirror, or check my weight on the scale and say, "OK, enough's enough--it's time to get back on Weight Watchers." I mean, I've kept my online membership for two years now; it's kind of like I've never actually been OFF of it. But I start tracking points again, begin feeling guilty about the food I'm eating, find myself unable to actually give up the food I want to eat, start tracking less--until I'm not longer tracking at all. And the weight, she keeps on rising. 

I wish I was a naturally active person to counteract this food love I have an ongoing problem with, but I'm not. 

So I'm stuck in this same cycle, and the people I love make veiled comments to me like, "maybe you shouldn't eat that," or "you snack an awful lot," or "how can you still be hungry? you just ate," or even, "you should exercise, then it would balance out how much you eat," and I get angry and resentful and--guess what?--eat more. 

I know Weight Watchers works, because I've done it. I know it's not that painful. But it is an awful lot of thinking constantly about your food, which I already do enough of. I am food obsessed. 

I suppose I should either admit that I've failed Weight Watchers and cancel the membership ($16.95 a month!) or I should get back on the horse. 

I just don't want to make that decision. 

A pretty noteworthy day...

In it's ordinariness. 

We woke up early, thanks to some animales who were dancing for food and walks. Got back in bed though, for another lazy hour or so. Jean stopped by to drop off the wee table we were buying from her (for a whopping $3). Pocket fell in love with the table. 

We dressed and began unpacking boxes and folding clothes. Things suddenly began falling into place. We took a break and ran downtown for some bibimbap (my new love, with tofu and brown rice) and twigim (fried veggies) at Kosmo, then a walk through the farmer's market. Most stands didn't have harvested crops yet, so we bought some seedlings. We picked up some broccoli, green leaf lettuce, sage, basil, thyme, onions, and anaheim peppers. The seedlings have now taken up residence on the front stoop, where they wait to be planted.

We finished unpacking most things (even if most things aren't in their proper location just yet) and moved the rest of the unpacked items to one room, in the basement, which makes the house feel oh-so-much-homier. Mike's parents dropped in then with the traditional Jewish housewarming gift of bread (so you never go hungry), salt (for the sweat of your labor? I think), and something sweet (two-bite brownies, yum). 

After we gave them a tour of the house (which they loved), we took them to Zingerman's Roadhouse for the first time. Was that a huge hit! We shared an artisanal cheese plate as an appetizer, then each got a different entree. Well, Mike and his mom both got fried chicken, which I stole a bite of--heavenly. Perfectly cooked. I went for the vegetarian option of Carolina Grits with veggies and a cider dressing, or some such. It was topped with 2-year-aged vermont cheddar. It was amazing, and exactly what I was looking for. 

After they left, Mike and I were supposed to head into Detroit for some karaoking. Our day of productivity had left us exhausted, unfortunately, so we bowed out of those plans in favor of what turned out to be a God-awful movie--Blindness. We made it 48 minutes in (with 1 hr and 12 minutes remaining). We had some debate about which timer was which, as Mike couldn't believe we'd only watched 48 minutes of that dreck. So depressing. Watch only if you like watching dirty naked people stepping in feces. Dirty, naked, sad, depressed, blind people, that is. I'd forgotten already about the trend of making movies wherein the authority figures are nothing but torturers, essentially, against innocents and with no good reason at all. Oh, the legacy of Guantanamo. 

Now I am showered and pajamaed and ready for some bedtime reading of Helter Skelter (our book club selection this month). My house is beginning to feel like my home. Yay.

Also, a dream.

Two nights ago, I had a dream that I was sitting with a friend outside of a building when a limo drove up. Out got the one, the only, Mr. David Bowie. Only he wasn't mature, self-possessed, married-to-Iman David Bowie--he was Labyrinthian David Bowie. He approached us, shook our hands. When he got to me, I marveled at how soft and delicate his hands were. 

"You have the softest skin I've ever felt," I said to him, as he held his hand as if to proffer it to me for a kiss. "What do you use?"

"Oh," he said nonchalantly. "I have a guy. A lotionierre."

I nodded and released his hand, contemplating the tasks a lotionierre might undertake. David Bowie continued on. My friend called after him, "Say hi for us!"

He stopped and turned around. "Say hi to whom?"

"Henry," I said, as in my head, my friend's baby Henry suddenly became David Bowie's newborn Grandson Henry. David Bowie laughed. I woke up. 

Unpacking (and the desire for normalcy)

We've been in the house since Sunday. By Wednesday, I felt like I was going to explode. 

There are boxes everywhere still; I get dressed by digging through crates and finding the first clean and presentable items I can put together. 

The basement is still leaking, after reconstruction on the chimney and regrading the ground and extending the downspout further from the house. The B-Dri guy is looking into it now. 

I finally have a kitchen, but the only thing I've cooked in it is Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. I'm hoping to make a big pot of hungarian potato soup this weekend--while also unpacking everything and cleaning the old apartment so we can finally be out of it. It's also supposed to be 80 degrees; is it too much to ask that I might get to work on my yard some?

Mike's parents come to visit Saturday; Erin's coming over Sunday. Jean is stopping by Saturday morning to drop off a wee table for us. How am I supposed to fit in all this work and socializing in two days without waking up Monday feeling like I need a vacation?

New Things.

I've always been a sucker for new things. I like the crinkle of plastic and the gleam of shiny surfaces. I get drawn to products I'd never by when they change up their packaging. This past month has been a flurry of new things, all of which mean I will have a bundle of things to post about--and, finally, a means with which to post. 

First off, Mike and I have bought a house! It is adorable, 3 bedrooms, 1 bath, finished basement, 2 fireplaces, brick, looks out over a ravine. This house is totally us. We've been working on renovating it (painting, putting down carpet, hanging blinds, tearing out closets) for the past month. Finally, on Sunday, we get to move into it. We packed our first boxes tonight. After the weeks of working on the house, I'm already exhausted.

Second, I realized that I can buy computer stuff through the university I work at! This means I am the proud new owner of a Macbook, which I am using to type to you RIGHT NOW! No more shoddy and cheap Acer PC for me! No more overheating after 10 minutes. No more taking 5 of those minutes for Vista to boot up. Finally, I can write again.

Now I just need to find the battery charger for camera; then I can post pictures!

Why You Should Pay Attention at the Grocery Store.

On Sunday, I made a quick trip to Whole Foods, alone, for some necessities. I try not to do too major of a shopping trip at Whole Foods because of the prices and the crowds, but I do love it. I love the whole ambiance, and you have to appreciate any store that's as conscientious about its product and its ingredients--even if it is a chain. In any case, it was just a short trip, for yogurt and lunch stuff and some salsa and things...and coffee. I nearly forgot the coffee, and hit the aisle with a full basket and a distracted mind, already tired of shopping.

Given the mark up at Whole Foods, I seek out sales/365 generics/other discounts wherever I can, just to save a couple dollars. I scanned the coffee shelves by price tag, not by flavor, feeling confident that whatever I would grab would likely be at least fair trade, possibly organic, and most likely tasty. I find the cheapest bag (shockingly priced at $6.99), see that it's 75% organic, feel satisfied, and hit the checkout.

I finished off my old bag of coffee on Monday, then failed to wake up in time to make coffee this morning. After getting home this evening, I was craving a warm cup of coffee and a biscotti to unwind with (my new-found biscotti obsession a topic for another day). I set about opening up the bag, and notice the words "naturally caffeine free."

I stop. Even decaffeinated coffee isn't "naturally" caffeine free. What was this strange coffee?

I examine the label. It turns out that it wasn't coffee at all, but rather, a coffee-like beverage made from chicory, carob, almonds, and some other nonsense. What the hell? Seriously! Who comes up with this? And then tries to sell as a health tonic for coffee lovers? Or, get this--an alternative to hot cocoa for kids?!?!

It smelled okay, though, and I really wanted that biscotti, so I brewed up a pot. It was quite possibly the most noxious beverage I've ever tasted.

As long as I was dipping the biscotti into it, it wasn't bad, but the first sip was nearly undrinkable. I didn't go back for another.

The point of this story is, saving money isn't worth misreading the label. And if you see something called "Teeccino," know, it is neither tea nor coffee. Be advised.

Simple Pleasures

My favorite thing in the world is waking up early to take care of something (walking the dog, for instance) and then crawling back into bed for another hour or two of sleep. The sleep I get then is the best sleep in the world.

The second best sleep in the world is the sleep I get curled up on the couch watching a favorite movie, like Robin Hood, or playing Animal Crossing--though Mike would disagree with me. 

My favorite people in the world --my family, Mike, my friends-- can make a bad day seem good.

I never thought I'd meet someone who I would feel so completely at home with, so comfortable, so in tune. Then I met Mike. 

I love my animals. Just watching Maggie play with a toy is like a brief meditation.

What I wouldn't give for a warm cup of tea and a biscotti some place other than work right now.