CALLING ALL NUTRITIONISTS AND DIET EXPERTS!

As most of you know, I have been working very hard this year to lose weight and get in shape. So far I’ve lost about 27 pounds. But I’m getting a bunch of conflicting information between the gym and Weight Watchers and just what I think I know to be true.

I went to a nutrition class at my gym a couple of weeks ago (WHY won’t I ever learn that although I may discover a few facts, these classes are really just a ruse to get me to buy something?) and I basically learned that I’m not eating enough. It sounds reasonable: by not eating enough, especially on the days I work out, I am effectively putting my body in starvation mode and lowering my metabolism. Okay, now let’s hop on over to WW, where they are saying to eat X number of points, each point being approximately 50 calories, and if you work out, great, you’ll burn more calories. But it’s not necessary to eat more on those days, even though I “earn” points by exercising.

And everything I’ve been taught in my 40-something years is “eat less and you’ll lose weight.”

So which is it? Can somebody out there explain this to me because I am REALLY CONFUSED!

Karen

Tuesday Tidbit

Today is the day. It came too quickly, for certain. But I am determined to face it boldly. I will not run in fear. I will stand, rooted with courage until the deed is done. Later this morning (hopefully this morning) I will stand triumphant, having conquered in battle. Today, my friends, I face . . . 

My junk drawer. 

By far it is the scariest, most unorganized place in the kitchen. I don't even like opening it. Sometimes it is hard to get shut. I can rarely find in one glance what I'm looking for, unless I just (and I mean just five seconds ago) threw it in there. 

BUT! As all generals going to battle, I have a plan. 

Step One: Dump the drawer. (Really, I could end that sentence with "in the trash" and be finished, but who knows what I would be throwing out!). I'm going to dump it on the kitchen table (hope it holds!) 

Step Two: Set the kitchen timer to ten minutes and do a quick sort. This is the "Yes, I need this here" vs. the "How the heck did this get in here, let's put it in the right place" vs. the "Eeeeew! TRASH!" sort. Three piles in ten minutes.

Step Three: Put it all back in order.  That's the one I struggle with. I'm going to try to do nice"areas" or sections. 

I'll post pics at the end of the day. We will see who wins. 

Courage, Melissa, courage.

Yours, 

Melissa

OH, GROW UP AND BE A MAN!

I don’t want to get on a male-bashing tirade, but seriously, why do men act like babies when they get sick? Did their mothers coddle them too much? Uh, oh, does that mean I’m setting up my own boys to be big babies for their wives when they get sick? Should I just tell them to “suck it up” and “be a man” when they have a fever? Okay, obviously I won’t do that, but I sure would like to say that to my DH!

After all, when I get sick, there certainly isn’t anyone around to take care of me, is there? I’m still expected to carry on with my mommy-duties as if everything was fine and normal. I don’t get time off when I’m sick, do you? But the really funny thing is that DH doesn’t see this at all. He somehow has this convoluted idea that I lay around all day and night when I’m not feeling well, and he does everything around the house for me and the kids. Is he kidding?

Okay, I sound like I’m whining. And I guess I am male-bashing a bit, or at least DH-bashing! And although there have been times when he overreacted a bit (Once he had a cold and seriously thought he was dying and should go to the emergency room! No, really!), he definitely is sick this time. So I should be much more sympathetic, right? After all, he is my husband and I do love him, and I did promise to care for him in sickness and in health and blah, blah, blah.

(Shoot, there I go again. I’d better stop before somebody shows this to him!)

So I want to know: Is it just me or do other wives go through this also? Please give me some hope that my boys won’t turn out this way!

Karen

Friday Funny

My husband turned forty this week. (I have not yet made that milestone). I thought long and hard about how to celebrate this momentous occasion. And I also remembered a few of the moments he has helped me to,uhm, celebrate. So I decided the following would be appropriate:



I've been following him around all week saying," You are forty and I am not. You will always be older than me."


I think that's a good start, don't you?


Yours, relishing every moment of the torture,


Melissa

Thursday Thoughts. . . .

Melissa here. . .  . Time for Thursday Thoughts.

1. I sent my "Open Letter to the President" to the White House. If you don't hear from me for a few days, you can just figure the FBI had enough. 

2. I learned an important lesson yesterday. Wednesdays are the Secret Motorized Shopping Cart Races at Walmart.  Seriously. I got ran over not once but TWICE by people twice my age moving faster than me whose reflex time to hit the break is, well, slower than I'd like it to be. God bless them, I know I'll be there one day myself, but from now on, I'm avoiding Walmart on Wednesday afternoons.

3. Untangling white Christmas lights is for the birds. After untangling five strands last night (for a party), I now know why people give up and buy new ones. Don't even get me started on the frustration of the middle section of lights that don't light up. 

4. And here is one that has always vexed me: In a nearby county, there is a road called Boone's Lick Road. Every time I see it, I can't help but wonder,"Who is Boone and why is he licking the road anyway? Surely Daniel Boone was smarter than that!" It bothered me so much I spent a half hour on Google figuring it out.  And no, I'm not telling. Otherwise I would be giving you the fish and not teaching you to be a fisherman. Hhmmph.

And those are my thoughts on this fine, rainy Thursday morning. Let's hope it dries up for the rest of the weekend!

Yours,

Melissa

WEDNESDAY WHATEVER: IS IT AGE OR T.M.I?

My husband thinks there is something seriously wrong with me and I should be checked out by a neurologist. My neighbors see me leave in my car, only to return 30 seconds later and run inside and out again. Sometimes the cycle repeats before I am gone for good. My kids get annoyed at me when they don’t have everything they need for school or football or whatever.

So what’s got everyone up in arms? I FORGET EVERYTHING!!! Not just the occasional “Oops!” but EVERYTHING! Everyone jokes about going into a room and forgetting why they went there, but when it happens ALL THE TIME, it gets a bit frustrating. Or I’ll put something right by my purse or the door to remember to bring it with me when I leave the house, but there it stays, long after I’ve left.

So what’s wrong with me? I know my age has a lot to do with it. So does having kids. Oh, and starting a new business. And writing a blog (although, thankfully I only do 2 days each week and Melissa does the other 3). And then there’s being a cub scout den leader. Oh, don’t forget being the pack treasurer. I guess I should mention my obsession about food and every calorie that enters my mouth because I’m trying to lose weight. And it’s not enough to exercise almost every day, now I listen to teleseminars on my iPod during my work-outs.

But still… Many other people have much more on their plates, and they aren’t as forgetful as I am. I’d love to give you some specific examples, but I can’t remember any!

Sigh, somehow I don’t think it’s going to get any better, is it? Wait, what was I talking about?

Karen

Tuesday Debate- Open Letter to the President

Dear President Obama,

I've been watching the political landscape for quite some time now. As a citizen of the United States, I feel it is my duty to know what's going on with my country. I've watched the heated debate over healthcare issues, the economic bailout and taken part in many discussions on illegal immigration. I have e-mailed my senators and representatives so much I'm surprised they haven't asked me to stop.

Lately, I know you have heard a lot of ruckus about your "Presidentialness". I can certainly appreciate that you want to be in touch with your constituents. I can see why you would want the citizens of the country which you are leading to feel like you understand them; that you're a regular guy, just like most of us. During the campaign, we heard about "Joe Plumber" and how each candidate should know what is best for so many people like him. And I believe you should, and at the core of your intentions do, have our best interests at heart.

But the truth is, Mr. President, I don't want to see you as an ordinary man. I don't want to know all the details of you inviting someone over for a beer to discuss racial tensions. I don't desire to see your most candid moments while you are leading us. I don't want to hear you call someone a jackass (even if he did deserve it, and even if I thought you were right). I don't want to see you on the cover of GQ, looking more like a celebrity than the leader of the free world.

With all due respect, Mr. President, I want to see you as someone who is better than the rest of us. I want you to be brilliant. I want you to always be conscious that someone is going to try to take your words and publish them. I want you to be be nearly superhuman. I want to see you on the cover of Time, because that is a serious magazine, where brilliant thinkers, history makers and world changers reside. I don't want to see you as someone "just like me". Because truthfully, Mr. President, if you are just like me, then heaven help us all if someone just like me is running the country.

When your presidency is complete, I will read your memoirs. I will look at pictures of you The First Lady and think,"Wow. I wonder what they were thinking in that moment." I will read the interviews of your daughters and contemplate what it was like growing up in The White House. I'll be ready then. I know four years is a long time to be so publicly perfect. It's no small accomplishment. But until that time, I hope, and believe, that you will make the most of the gift of being Presidential.

Best Wishes,

Melissa