Measurements

I got to thinking that I don't have a way to measure if Randi has lost weight, since I can't pick her up and getting her to perch on the scale probably isn't feasible.  I decided to take her measurements.  It was surprisingly easy.

Randi's measurements

Neck: 20
Chest: 32 1/2
Hips:  26

On fait un régime

Every member of the Saratoga Animal Shelter is on un régime because he is either too skinny or she (plural) are too chunky.  Earl, the pot smoker whose general non-interest in food leaves him at a normal weight, ne fait pas de régime.  Earl doesn't give a flying hoot about anything that has to do with food unless Clark is near it.  He will sit in the living room and watch calmly as I feed Randi and Clark cheese or as I used to feed Randi.

Les régimes:

Randi:  

1. Absolutely no pre-washing the dishes.  
2. Absolutely no cheese.  
3. Absolutely no hot-dogs.

Clark:  

Breakfast: one cup of dry dog food soaked in chicken stock, three scrambled eggs, one hot-dog and one slice of American cheese

Lunch:  One hot-dog and one slice of American cheese

Dinner:  Pretty much breakfast except no eggs

I decided to stop feeding Clark the wet food out of the can because there seemed to be a lot of vomiting involved and that got old pretty quick.  He can eat hot-dogs.

Me:  I just finished this book French Kids Eat Everything by Karen le Billon which I would definately recommend if you are curious about how culture shapes food choices.  In any case, I decided that I could use some of the rules she has in there so voici mon régime:

1. No snacking between meals.  Self-explanatory, except today I was starving so I had to eat some almonds and jicama for a snack.  I hope Karen le Billon will forgive me.
2. I must eat at the table without the TV on.  I am very bad about sitting in front of the TV and eating since it's just me.  But no more!  Now I only listen to NPR.  So not only am I going to get slim and trim, I will also be incredibly well informed.  Also, when I go back to work I'm going to eat my breakfast at the table and not at my desk at work.  
3. Make a varied meal plan.  I've never made a meal plan before and thought that this might be an interesting way for me to avoid eating the exact same thing five days in a row as well as avoid getting home and saying geez, what am I going to eat?  How about I heat up some cheese on top of some more cheese!  So last Friday I sat down and planned out what I would eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the entire week and it has been remarkably easy and interesting.  I'm using it as a way to try out several of the two thousand recipes that I have always wanted to make.  I haven't eat the same thing once in four days and than may not sound that remarkable, but I have been known to eat the exact same thing five or six days in a row.  
4. It's ok to be hungry.  I think this might have been the most revolutionary diet statement I've ever read because we generally try to avoid being hungry; especially when dieting, so I was intrigued that being hungry is not only ok, but expected.

Randi and I have lots of conversations about our régimes while we're sitting on the chunky girl couch, but I keep telling her that nothing tastes as good as skinny feels and she seems to be ok with it...until I try to do the dishes.

Precautionary Measures

I'm in charge of looking after (read making sure they have food and changing potty pads) of two cats and one beta fish for four days.   (The beta fish is not the one with the potty pads.)  I decided to suit up before I go in, so I used a mask and gloves to prevent cat hair from going in my lungs or on me.   I think people who can pet cats have superpowers because they can touch these fearsome animals without immediate death.   After I left the contamination area, Jessica warned me about some cat disease I could catch because I might not have antibodies for it given my reluctance to be in rooms with cats.  Great, more ways cats can kill me, but short of an actual has-mat suit, I don't know what else I can do to protect myself.

Look I'm touching a cat!!

Legos

Yesterday I went to my parents to spend some time with Max.  I had to go in the morning because my back is still being unreasonable and uncooperative and I figured if I played with him in the morning I could take a pain pill in the afternoon.  Max was at the airport when I first got there watching the one plane land and one plane take off at the busy Apple Valley airport.  When he got back my mom brought out his gigantic plastic crate of oversized baby Legos and said, "Show Aunt Beth how you play Legos."

Yes, please Max show me how to play Legos because I don't fucking get it.  I know that my parent friends have said, "Oh yeah, we played Legos" and I don't understand what that means.  I know you're supposed to build crap with the Legos, but that's "building with" Legos and not "playing" with Legos.  On the floor with the baby, I said, "Dad, what the heck am I supposed to do?"  And he said, "You put them together and he takes them apart."  Well, that's hardly seems like "playing" either.  I even Googled "how to play Legos," because I might not be all hip and happening with the babies, but I do know how to look shit up.  Google was not that helpful.  There are no real guidelines for "playing" Legos.  So, I tried to construct something other than a wall, but, and I'm going to be completely honest right now, that was fucking boring.  There is no way on Earth that I would be able to figure out how to build anything but a square out of Legos; nor do I want to spend the mental energy thinking abou it.  Not wanting to influence Max's opinion of the Legos, I swallowed my disdain and confusion and started putting all the blue ones together.  If I couldn't "play" Legos then at least they would all be color coordinated in the crate.

I wish Max would want to play Barbies, because I know about playing Barbies and one can actually play Barbies and have conversations and make stupid shit up.  How can you make stupid shit up with a Lego?  Maybe I will pull me and my sister's Barbies and Barbie house out of my mom's shed and give Ken and Barbie a bath and then we can play Barbies.

How I Imagine Me and Max Will Play Barbies:
(I will do all of the voices except where Max talks.)

Barbie comes in the house door.

Ken (in an apron):  Hi sweetie!  I was just finishing up dinner.  You look beat.  Do you want the pinot noir or the whiskey tonight?

Barbie:  Whiskey.  (Kisses Ken on the cheek- it's a family show.)

Ken:  Bad day?

Max:  Ball.

Me (breaking character):  No, Ken doesn't have any balls.

Barbie:  You wouldn't believe my crazy day today.

Max:  Dog.

Me:  Ken and Barbie don't have a dog, Max.

Max:  Car

Me:  Great idea Max.  Ken and Barbie have a nice car!

Ken:  Maybe we can take a drive in the car later.

Barbie:  I'd love that.  I'll go change.

Max:  Boobie.

Me (shouting to the kitchen): Good job Grandma!

Weight Loss Diary Day One

Today was Day One of Randi's Weight Loss Lifestyle Change.  Who am I kidding?  I have no idea how to get a dog to lose weight.  I thought about signing her up for dailymile.com, so she could be my friend.  I thought about removing all of the food, but then Clark has to gain weight.  I thought about how great it would be if I could take her for a walk.  I thought about reiterating to her that she weighs more than her brother.  I did not let her pre-wash the dishes and I locked the trash so she couldn't get in there, but apparently not good enough because I just caught her in the trash eating egg shells.  I'm sure that will be fun later.

All of these thoughts were done while I was laying on the couch in a 1/2 pain pill, 1/2 muscle relaxer stupor.  I don't know what I did, but man do I not feel good today.  I know my back is fine because my new doctor from Kaiser called and left me a message saying that my x-ray was fine and showed that everything was normal except for my arthritis and that if I wanted to go see a specialist I just needed to give her a call, "Just let me know..." she said cheerily.  Such a welcome change from fighting with stupid Choice Medical.

Doctor's Visit

I wasn't the only one who had to go to the doctor this week.  Yesterday my dad came over to help me take the Pack to the vet.  Everyone needed shots.  I used Randi and Earl's nap time lethargy to collar them up and we got into the truck with only minor trauma.  At the vet they didn't even have our appointment in and so we had to wait an extra bit.  Randi and Earl are quite the pair and make quite the impression because they are pretty darn adorable.  They were sitting there looking adorable together when this lady came out and asked me what they were.  I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Dunno....bad."  She responded with, "You don't know?  They're just fabulous?"  My dad and I couldn't stop laughing.  Yep, that's what they are:  FABULOUS.  While we were in the waiting room, Earl discovered some kittens in a cage on the other side.  I told my dad to hold on tight because we didn't need them to kill a cat in the vet's office.  

Earl looks at a kitten.

 Earl nearly had a heart attack when they took Randi back and I told my dad, "I'm telling you, Dad, Randi's going to die and then a day later, Earl and then I'm going to have to dig two big holes.  How am I going to do that?"  My dad's pretty practical so he suggested that I start now and just do a little bit a day.  I'm afraid to admit that it's hard to argue with that logic. Clark had to get a pedicure because he had some long ass nails and Randi...poor Randi.  Sara tried to tell her on Tuesday that she might want to fast before she went to the vet because you always weigh more when you go to the doctor.  Randi continued to pre-wash the dishes not the least bit concerned with her weigh-in.  So Randi weighed in at a resounding "She needs to lose some weight."  I tried to shield her from the brunt of the statement, but the vet tech just came out and said it.  Earl's fine and Clark needs to gain weight.  I'm worried about Clark because he's starting to get old.  I can't think about it.

Clark's pedicure

Taking the dogs to the vet left me in a 1/2 pain pill stupor on the couch and I'm still sore today.  Ugh.

Status Change

Dr. Dreds, aka, Dr. Sanford who did my back surgery, retired last month and in anticipation of my joyous move from the crap bullshit decision making of Dr. Earle and Choice Medical Group to Kaiser, I picked up a copy of my records to take to my new doctor.  I didn't look at them before because I just didn't care that much, but today when I saw my new doctor I was going over why I needed a prescription for pain killers and muscle relaxers and reading her what I considered to be the pertinent parts of my surgery record when I came across my "Social History":

I yelled out, "Housewife??!  That's a damn lie!"  My new doctor gave me a look like I had lost my marbles and I was too flabbergasted to say anything other than, "That's a damn lie! I am not a housewife!!"

Let me make this clear, I'm not putting down the housewife by any means.  In fact, I don't think there could be a more difficult or thankless job on the planet.  I was just floored that I was listed as a housewife in my "social history" because if you could think of the polar opposite of "housewife" that would be my entire social history.  How did Dr. Sanford think I had medical insurance?  Didn't he ever wonder where my supposed husband was during my whole time at the hospital?  So I did the only thing any self-supporting, non-housewife person could do and I added an addendum to my surgery record.

When I told my dad he said, "Huh, well...that's kind of not right."  I said, "KIND OF not right?  Dad, that's completely not right."

Fanatic

Randi's new love:  Snowy.  Tonight Sara and I watched Tintin.  I hadn't seen it and I was getting nervous that perhaps I was putting my credential in jeopardy given that it's fucking Tintin and could have been a requirement for my French credential.  (It doesn't have Gerard Depardieu in it, so I'm not technically sure it is required viewing.  Depardieu-less films fall into the grey area.  If Depardieu is in it I am required by law to see it within a month and then purchase a copy and then make a unit to teach around it.)  In any case....Randi loved Tintin so much we had to put her outside when Snowy fought with the cat and good thing too because shortly thereafter was the scene with rottweiler and my TV might not have survived.

Randi hearts old school cartoon version Snowy.

Randi hearts new school computer animated Snowy.

Fun Fact:  I was going to name Clark Milou, Snowy's French name, but my sister came to my house the day I brought Clark home from the pound and she said that that was a stupid fucking name and then she named him Clark.

Day Trips

This week I have taken two overnight trips.  The first was to take Jessica to Vegas and pick Sara up in Vegas and the second was to San Clemente State Park to spend time with my parents and Max.  On both occasions I forgot to pack my hairbrush.  On both occasions Keegan was over in the morning working in the yard and was able to let the Pack in for morning refreshments, so I didn't have to worry about them.

Jessica and I (mostly me) used the trip to Vegas to go shopping.  First we went to Total Wine, then to the mall.  I was driving Sara's truck and am a clear winner at the parking.  I parked Sara's car five times and of the five times zero of them were in the lines.  When we got to the mall I jumped out of the car ready to do some shopping and Jessica said, "Little crooked."  I looked up and sure enough I was near about diagonal in the parking space.  It's because Sara's Expedition is so much smaller than my monster truck.  Sara didn't have to park her truck because we used the free valet parking at Denny's.

PhD in Parking 

I couldn't resist the 40 of the Dew for Jessica.

After I got back from Vegas, I finished my table runner.  Earlier in the week we had had a major dispute and in a fit of rage I told it that we had to take a break because we both needed our space.   This thing took me forever and I am never again going to work with buttons.

 Then yesterday I went to San Clemente where me and the awkward family went to dinner and ice cream.  Thinking he was funny, my dad yelled "Yeah, it's about time you started taking care of your kid!" when I was helping Max at the campground.  That guy thinks he's got jokes.  In a triumphant win, I got Max in and out of the car seat three times in a row with no tears.  The Snickerdoodle got a bit nasty with Max and is quite typical, my mom said it was my dad's fault.  I hate that dog.

Awkward Family Photo

This morning I took Max on a walk so Grandma and Grandpa could argue in peace and quiet while they were packing everything up.  In what I felt was one of my most rebellious moves of my life, I took Max to the beach.  

Grandma Rules I was certain we were breaking by going to the beach without having attended Taking the Baby to the Beach Training:

Going to the beach without having attended extensive training first.

Do not walk down the big hill by yourself.

Do not walk up the big hill by yourself.

We had no diapers.

We had no bottles.

We had no sunscreen.

We had no toys.

We had not prepared for the sound of the waves.

There was sand and he had just had a bath.

A shark could jump out of the water and eat us.

We did not have a blanket.

We did not have a back-up blanket.

We did not have a back-up hat.

The stroller could get caught in the sand and we would die.

Other than being unable to push the stroller in the sand the beach was pretty uneventful.  We didn't go very far -with Max being unwilling and unable to walk in the sand by himself or without holding on with two hands and me unable and unwilling to carry him and the stroller.  We stayed pretty close to the walkway.  I used the self-timer to take our picture once we got back to the top.

A couple of mavericks.

Note to self:  always pack a hairbrush.

La Bonne

I just vacuumed for the first time in over a year.  I hadn't missed anything.

Random Bits

The Golden Ticket

When I redid the deck in 2007 my brother-in-law at the time lent me his corded drill.  It's still here along with its case.  I thought it was just a case.  Then, in what turned out to be a defining moment of my life, Jeff, the handyman showed me that the sides opened up to reveal a veritable cornucopia of drillbits, the things you put the screws on, drill parts and even sanders.  I immediately recognized this case for what it is:  the secret weapon to finding a man.  I am convinced that all I need to do is walk around carrying my corded drill case showing men my bits.  If only I had known that this treasure was just sitting in my garage I could already have been married and divorced and looking for husband number two.  I didn't think my corded drill case could have gotten any cooler, but then Jeff showed me how the case comes completely undone and lays FLAT, so you can see all of your various drill bits and pieces in one straight line!  An amazing feat of engineering.

Man magnet

It's ok if you're jealous of my bits.

Speaking of Marriage

The more time I spend watching HGTV, the more I'm convinced that Sara and I should marry the Property Brothers or the Kitchen Cousins.  I'm sure all four of them would be equally impressed with my corded drill case and bits.

My Obnoxious Shoes

Yesterday I went and got new walking shoes.  I needed new shoes because my old shoes were giving me blisters and I was looking to get a "trail running" shoe because Chaddie had told me that he thought that trail running shoes would be a good choice so I couldn't feel like I was going to slip when I had to walk in the sand and would be a lighter alternative to the hiking shoe I wear when I go in the desert.  I had a couple of choices to get my shoes:  go down the hill, go to the mall or go to the shoe place by Winco.  I choose the shoe place by Winco because I have an aversion to the mall and if you're going to go to the mall you might as well just drive down the hill anyways.  At the place by Winco, they had only two pairs of trail running shoes and these were the ones that fit the best.  They are the most obnoxious pair of shoes I've ever owned.  My other shoes have fled the closet en masse trying to get away.  I find them terribly revolting, but at least people will be able to see my feet from outer space.

Infatuation

When I took a shower this morning I realized why the conditioner was always lathering up like shampoo.  It's because it was shampoo.  I bought two shampoos.  I've been shampooing and shampooing my hair for a month and wondering why it felt so dry.

Randi and I have spent some quality time today watching movies.  We started by finishing Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part I.  We had started yesterday but didn't get to finish because we had an episode of Crazy and Ridiculous.  What I know about Twilight is that I am too old because I don't get one part of this dumb film.  At least with the first three there was the anticipation of Edward and Bella not kissing, but good gawd was that some boring vampire sex.  In any case, as could be expected as soon as Jacob and his buddies showed up, Randi came running in to watch. 

Randi hearts Jacob.

We spent the rest of the day working and then this evening we decided to watch Charlie St. Cloud.  (I'm trying to work my way through my Netflix queue.)  I had no idea that Randi was such a Zac Efron fan.  I don't blame her; he is pretty cute.

Randi hearts Zac Efron.

Worst Mom Ever

When I go places with my mom, dad and Max I feel like everyone is looking at me and thinking that I must be the worst mom ever because my parents are clearly the "taker-carers" of Max.  I try to combat this by exclaiming loudly over and over, "Can you say my name?  AUNT Beth."  Yesterday our awkward family went to Anaheim to do some fabric shopping because there was 20% everything in the entire store.   We got nap-jipped in the car because somebody only slept for about a half an hour.   Max was pretty darn excited to go fabric shopping, if only because on the wall they had a Big Bird, Cookie Monster and Elmo fabric panel which caused him to go into overdrive and scream and squeal until my dad walked him over to the wall.  I never knew that Max liked Elmo so much.  My mother, of course, said, "He likes that one?  I have that one.  I have it in regular fabric and flannel.  I bought two."  Of course she did. 

In other news, The Big Guy told me that he can't wait for me to go back to school because he won't see me as much and he'll save a lot of money going out to dinner.

This is not mad screaming, this is excited screaming for Elmo.

Just Another Day...

This morning started out normal enough.  I woke up to discover that the reason Earl was still in the bedroom was because his hallway phobia had returned during the night and he was petrified to go down the hallway.  He spent the better part of an hour crying in either my bedroom or the sewing room.  I decided to use the miniature effect on my camera to see if it might shed some light one what Earl was seeing.  I can't see anything, but maybe you can.

Miniature Effect on the Hallway

After that Keegan, the kid who has been working at my house cleaning up and putting things where I tell him, came over and no one barked to alert his presence.  (Yesterday the handymen came in the yard and were in the garage.  IN THE GARAGE.  Nary an alert was made.)  Earl did manage to get down the hallway to tell Keegan hello.  I left Keegan weeding in the Little Backyard and went for my walk, where I saw the cutest quail family out for a stroll.  

Quail Family Stroll

After I came back from my walk the real work with Keegan began and I started telling him where to move shit in earnest.  We got the spare room cleaned up.  And by cleaned up I mean Keegan moved stuff either to the dumpster or the garage where the handymen will come and take it.  He put the propane tank in the truck so I could go exchange it and then he took it back out when I got back.  He put together a shelf and moved box after box where I told him.  I also swept, which turned out to be unfortunate for Earl because the broom fell over on top of him.  In the hallway.  It was already a bad hallway day and I'm afraid that the Attack of the Broom Handle put him over the edge.  He's not returned to this area of the house since.  I wore myself out telling Keegan where to move shit because after we (Keegan) finished moving crap from the spare room, we (Keegan) moved crap around in the garage.  Keegan is the best because I tell him to move stuff and then he does and then he says, "Ok, what next?"  I will be a sad girl when Keegan goes back to school in September because it is very helpful to have someone who can move shit.  I told him I probably could have done everything myself but it would have taken me six months, but I think it probably would have been eight.

Yep, it's the same room

Ball

So far Max has shown mastery of really only one word- ball.  He likes to play with the tennis ball, the basketball; all manner of balls.  The only problem is that his best friend in the entire world, Emmah Snickerdoodle also enjoys the tennis ball and this caused some dissension between BFFs earlier today while I was watching Max because Emmah Snickerdoodle did not want to share her ball with her best friend.  What ensued was a meltdown, then in short order a bottle and nap.  

Inspecting the lens on my new camera.

Sporting Team USA Gear

What can loosely be called "swimming"

Press Release

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Today the City of Verona allowed a recent persona non grata to officially enter its city limits.   Re-entry was granted on the basis of everyone was tired of pretending that the person in question hadn't been there anyways and also Verona was in need of a free babysitter.  At this time Verona city officials have not decided if permanent access will be permitted or if written permission will be required before each visit.

Romeo has not been unbanishèd and must remain in Mantua until he mans up and grows a pair.

Ironwoman

Today I did what we high-endurance athletes like to refer to as a "triathlon."  First, I hiked three miles in the hills with Bill and Sara (still #2 on the leaderboard.)  Next, I had some good times at counseling. (Counseling is not technically a sport, but it should be because, like all first-class sports, it should involve beer and also it takes endurance.)  I followed that up with 30 minutes swimming mini-laps in my newly refurbished pool.   I rounded out my triathlon with a 1.8 mile bike ride on my green bike, which could be my favorite bike because it does not require a change of clothes or shoes to ride.

I also got a new camera and I used it to snap copious photos of Randi sitting very classy and lady-like on the couch and the living room to try out all of the settings.   So far, I love the new camera!

I Rode My Bike! I Rode My Bike!!

Yesterday I went on a bike ride!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tuesday the kid who's been coming over and helping me clean up stuff pumped up the tires of my green bike.  (My other bikes have been lent out because I knew I wasn't going to be using them and I didn't want them to be sad.)  Tuesday I rode up and down the road once.  Inspired, yesterday I went on a bike ride to Navajo.  1.8 miles.  It took me a little over seven minutes which was about the same time the Tour de France cyclists did the four mile time trial.  It was pretty darn awesome and I felt pretty darn tired.

Inked Up

Max's teachers said he should start holding pens and such and so last week my mom bought him some special baby markers and then she put some paper on the table and instructed me to help him hold the markers.  I had to pay special attention to put the markers in his left hand because my dad is determined to make Max left-handed.  Right or left-handed, I'm not sure if there was more ink on me, on him or ingested, but it mostly did not end up on the paper.  Writing time quickly degenerated into tears when I tried to clean him up, but I was determined to have a picture of us covered with marker to document his first experience at writing.  (I'm sure Ezra Pound looked like the the first time he tried to use markers.)