Getting In My Veggies

So after my last encounter with my nemesis, I was able to redeem myself a little. After being sick for a week, I went to the doctor and was sure to wear the lightest clothing I owned and shoes that can be removed easily.  I needed to be sure that I was as close to being in my birthday suit as possible without actually having a naked party in the doctors office.

Lucky for me it worked. Or should I say the diet of soup of milkshakes worked well.  Apparently having a canker sore in your throat does wonders for your waistline. But then I got medicine and was able to eat whole food and my theory about my new fad diet went out the window. However I was able to go back to hell my workout class again this week. I also found out that I have a new nemesis: Gliders.

And not those paper kinds.  Those little disk things that apparently are the new workout wonder toys. Ugh. My thighs are cringing just thinking about them.

But back to my good news at the doctor. And actually I had two good pieces of news. 1. I lost some poundage. Of course it probably went right back to my hips after the Easter bunny was kind enough to bring treats, make biscuits and gravy and sweet potatoes with enough brown sugar to put a diabetic in sugar shock. (Okay, the Easter bunny didn't do that cooking, but my Mom and MIL did - and it was delicious!) and the second piece of good news: I don't have any issues with my body that causes me to gain weight.

Wait. Crap - while that news is good, I obviously now have to find the real reason that I am storing fat on my thighs like squirrels storing nuts for winter. And no, I am not letting the fact that I have an addiction to all things sweet be a reason. That is what keeps me going Brit Brit style crazy on people at work. And Tony.

So after my "good news" my doctor asked me about my diet. I informed her of my protein intake, my lack of carbs at most dinners due to my Atkins loving husband and left out everything about my sugar intake. Of course the next question coming was how many fruits and veggies I have been eating. Oh vey. Not much.  I mean, there is the occasionally fruit on Sunday dinners or showers and parties, but unless its a grilled asparagus, not much. Especially since my grocery shopping is spaced out and the veggies/fruit that sit in our fridge is not as appealing, thus going rotten a bit later.

Apparently I should try and incorporate more of those healthy things in my diet. And we have been. On Monday night, I added salad to my taco salad bowl and since one night of cooking is pretty good for Tony and I in a week - I made sure I ordered the veggie pizza last night.

Fine, if you say so.

Veggie-tastic. Boom.

Put a little Cheese with that Whine

So I'm sick.

Like, called in sick for morning sick.

Sick like could fall asleep while driving home from work today.

Like, popping throat lozenges like their gummy bears sick.

Sick like, "I'm just going to lay down for a few minutes," wake up 4 and half hours later sick.

Sick like, I'm almost positive my tonsils are so swollen, they are probably touching and giving each other high fives with their germs sick.

It's pretty awesome. Thank goodness I'm going to the doctor tomorrow. Of course, that probably mean that I have to get on the scale again. Rude. But I'm hoping that with the amount of water, and fewer amount of carbs that I've been eating, I've done okay.

So what does my sickness mean for you? It probably means we have another carrier monkey on our hands under the 3 feet height. It also means that I attempted to write a blog - and attempted to be funny - and failed. It was so bad, I'm pretty sure 'See Dick Run' could have been included as one of my sentences.

Hopefully they will load me up on drugs tomorrow at the doctor. Cause how is it when you are you sick, everyone else gloats about their health and how much they can do.

Especially those runners on Ward Parkway. Yes....I see you running and yes the soundtrack of Chariots of Fire does play through my head. Your ponytail gently swaying in the wind does me jealous and want to urge to throw on my tennis shoes so I can run for five minutes  two minutes before gasping for air (oh yes, that two minute run is when I'm in good health....stop judging me).

So here's is to the doctors making sure my large nodule on the side of my neck sure that it's not tumor. I'd hate to break out into my Arnold via Kindergarten Cop impression....it's still work in progress.

Hopefully I'll be back to regular programing soon. Until then, hold tight and be ready for some fishing and kitchen redo adventures. I'm not saying I caught my sickness from our back splash tear down, but those fish probably had it out for me.

Nurses Should Wear Protective Head Gear

Going to the doctor's office is never fun. Lately - it's ended in tears, or rather the tears begin while waiting on the always quiet paper covering table.

Now there is never news that I am dying or I have some sort of life-threatening disease, or news that I am soon going to be covered in warts that have no cure. While I am thankful for the news of all this non-real health history - my tears begin welling on the dreaded walk back to the scale.

Enter doom music and the urge to punch the nurse after she moves those dang numbers.

While always hoping that their scale is wrong - and wondering why it always has to be out in the open where all eyes can see - hello - you get a nice little copay from me and other 74 people waiting for 45 minutes, maybe it's time to take that little extra cash and invest in some scales in the rooms. This is not the Biggest Loser - I don't need the feeling of standing in a sports bra and tight shorts showing off all my business - I digress -

Via weheartit.com

While hoping that the scale is wrong, you find out, those suckers don't lie. And you automatically regret that Popsicle, along with the bowl of ice cream, the two dove chocolate and the final Hershey's nugget, you ate last night. But seriously, that can't be all factored into this morning's scale of doom.

Ugh. Dumb doctor's office. Then it gets worse - believe it or not - you roll your fat self into the exam room, where they bring up your history - including weight.  Pretty sure they then take that as time to make themselves feel better - silently judging and thanking their boss that they get to wear comfy scrubs to work - laughing that you squeezed your rolly polly behind into your jeans.

From there you can't stop thinking about the scale. So it's really no wonder when the nurse asks about your medications you tell her your taken depression medication - but you aren't really, you're just to dumb and large to figure out that just because your ALLERGY medicine starts with an "S" and a depression medication that you've seen advertisements for being in an "S" as well - are not actually the same thing. Ugh. I think the rolls on my stomach are making my brain dumb.

But then the doctor comes in. Oh boy. After exchanging stories of our workout classes, I wonder if he was actually listening to me - I'm pretty sure Sally, Nancy, and Susan who lead your 'scultping' class, are not the same ones as mine. But thanks for the tip to try racquetball - I'll give that one a go.

via weheartit.com

 

Other lists of suggestions: do an hour and 15 minutes of working out 6 times a week. So you're saying my cardio/sculpting class that I am taking which I am wanting to collapse on the floor immediately is not enough? Apparently I should take your class from Susan.

Judger.

Obviously after taking his "suggestions" he ordered some tests. YES! Maybe something is wrong with my thyroid or metabolism and it's not the amount of chips I consumed at my nephews birthday party! Doubtful....but I am holding out hope....or it's going to be a long summer consumed with celery sticks, carrots and water.  Good by cupcakes, I'll miss you.

via weheartit.com

So there you have it, doctor's offices make you cry. And a word to all my doctor's office nurses: I will be bringing gloves in three months for my checkup. This is your warning.


PS. Did I also tell you that I was referred back to my pediatrician from my other doctor. Dude didn't even give me a lollipop after my visit. Rude.

How to Make a Trip More Interesting

 
 

College roommates - I see some have shrunken since then....ie girl on far right. Dang it.

Step 1. Travel with Jennifer.

Yep. This girl has a travel reputation a mile or two long....and she knows it. So all who travel with her know to add at least 90 minutes to the scheduled pick up time...for Jen. However just because she might always be the late one, doesn't mean she cause you to run on the plane.

Oh yes. Our weekend began by running onto the already boarded plane. But first someone had to get stuck in security....i.e. me. I blame Katie for my cute Stella & Dot bracelets for causing to be flagged in the security line, but I digress. Why were we running to catch our first flight? Well, let's just say we are not great at listening for the boarding call....and we would rather drink our Starbucks and enjoy the people watching that happens at KCI - hence the running on the plane.

And one would think that would be enough for one weekend trip. But oh no. While traveling with Jen, I've also learned that she dislikes the elderly. After running on the plane, I spot her toward the back of the plane, trying to save us a couple of seats, and using big hand gestures that might make others think she was directing the plane, but she obviously was missing some large orange sticks. Obviously she was trying to direct an elderly couple who didn't grasp the concept of saving seats to the completely empty row across from the aisle she was currently standing in.....but apparently this couple only enjoys row 28 on the right side of the plane.

And instead of taking the completely empty row, only the wife chose to sit next to Jen. Leaving the husband to finally take the middle seat behind our row. Which led to Jen hating the elderly.

When I finally sat down, the elderly man decided to talk smack to us. Oblivious to what had just taken place, a bystander would think that Jen had decided to body slam the couple into the cargo area of the plane. Or at least, pound them like they were a piece of chicken.

Instead, Jen had tried to nicely inform them that her friend was just stuck in security and was arriving soon and just needed one seat. Leading to Jen hating the elderly.

Of course to add to Jen's hatred - we were also lucky to get the evil eye from them as we saw them in the terminal of Oklahoma City and on our next flight. Luckily for Jen, we were able to sit far away from them on our next flight.

So for those of you who may have to travel with Jen in the future, please beware of her lateness and hatred for the elderly. Keep her away from all of those with hearing aids and walking canes.

See that fist? It does damage.

Step 2. Make sure the waitress gives your preggo friend the non-alcoholic drink.

It's been brought to my attention that my friends and I cannot figure out the difference between an alcoholic and non-alcoholic drink. Which is not great for our friends who are carrying children and just want a fruity cocktail.

Make sure you have preggo take pictures by herself.

While at dinner, our waitress at the sushi restaurant decided that Sara's belly was just full of beer and she wanted a full glass of coconut rum. This waitress also took our credit cards away for 45 minutes, so I don't think she was all that competent in the first place.

However, apparently a virgin strawberry daiquiri doesn't exist in her vocabulary. And after three of us tried this "virgin" drink - apparently we are all lushes and really enjoy a strawberry daiquiri. And big balls of liquor, get your mind out of the gutter.....cherry's full of liquor are delicious and dangerous.

Don't worry Chris, we made sure Sara's actual drink has zero amount of liquor in it - and gave the balls of liquor to Jen.

Step 3. Thank God your road rage friend has sturdy seat belts in her car.

I would say that I have moderate to average road rage. I would also say that Kansas City is a pretty easy and non-threatening place to drive and contain that rage. That said, I would times my road rage by 72 for Lauren.

It's really nothing new - all who ride with her have seen this rage. In one instance where we took a major road dip in Manhattan, I do believe the phrase, "Jimminy Christmas, Lauren!" was used by her now husband.

So it's not a huge surprise that after spending some time in the large metropolis of Houston that such rage has increased. By 34. Which is one reason I let Jen enjoy the front seat. Lauren, I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but I might have feared for my life for a moment or two this weekend. The better news, is that your seat belts in your backseat have a great locking system.

You also owe $57.29 to Tony's shave fund.

Step 4. Don't trust weather.com.

Apparently they are teasing when they say it's supposed to be 82 and sunny while you are on vacation in Houston. Or maybe you read it wrong and Kansas City was supposed to have that weather while you had 79 and overcast.

Also - they are need cameras when letting you know if you have cloud cover or not. I don't know how weather.com decides what "cloudy" really is when giving the forecast, but let's just say they are wrong.

Attention weather.com - the girl on the right needs the sun.

Step 5. Try on multiple items at Nordstrom Rack.



And finally Step 6. Be sure to travel Southwest.

But please beware when they decide to "inspect" all their planes due to a large gaping hole in the roof.

Also - after this minor incident - be sure to let your parents know when you land. Especially since you texted them when you took off, but forgot to text them when you land. You may be married now, but you will probably still keep them up at night wondering if you are just circling Kansas City to land.


So there we have it.....some simple steps to make a trip to Houston more interesting. While I would not advise anyone to really use these steps as a guide, I would be a big proponent of using these of a how to not.

Oh and be sure to take 1 of 2 pictures actually at the airport

Thanks to our great hosts in Houston - we had a great time and are glad to see you are having fun in that new city of yours!  See you soon!

Puppy Love

While Tony is out of town for the whole "bringing home the bacon" business, Tyson and I have some super bonding time. Generally, it's all fine. Just the usual doggy business, eating, sleeping, sniffing around, puking, and sleeping on me like I'm a futon.

Oh wait - those last two things aren't normal? That was just today. My 72 pound friend over here decided to make my afternoon more interesting by dry heaving. Have you heard a dog dry heave? I think it's worse than cats screeching right before they suck the breath out of babies.

And then it happened: dog vomit. Fabulous.  And while he was dry heaving - I of course was in the midst of changing from work. So I had two options: 1. Let Tyson puke all over the hallway or 2. Let my neighbors see me in all my glory.

Obviously I chose option 1. We were upstairs and anyway- it would have taken me a bit to get to the door.

You still love this pukey face.

So you can see why I laugh hysterically when people ask when Tony and I are having kids. Hello! I just let my dog puke in our hallway while I changed clothes, dog mother of the year.

But there are more fun things that Tyson and I bond over while Tony is gone. He's spoiled. Spoiled rotten - by Tony - his buddy. You see, our 74 lb bundle of joy likes to think he weighs 8 lbs and can sit on your lap at all times. Case in point:

If he could get any closer he would

Which leads me to bed time. After thinking he's an 8 pounder with room to spare, Tyson also thinks his bed is a queen with a new duvet and nice sheets from Bed, Bath, & Beyond. Luckily for him, there just happens to be a nice old sheet on top of the duvet so he doesn't have to worry about washing his duvet over and over. That dog hair gets everywhere you know. Generally Tony can keep him off the bed - they have a nightly routine - Tyson jumps up, Tony says "get down, that's not your bed," and then Tyson goes over and sulks in his actual bed, on the floor - for shame.

But when T is gone - oh it's on! Tyson claims Tony's spot and lays on it like white on rice. Which is fine by me - I don't mind him laying by my side. However, he doesn't stay like that. He's a bed moocher. I really wish I had a picture, or I knew what he was thinking. Probably something like, "Duuuu, this bed is comfy, this girl is kind of squishy too."

Oh sure - look all curled up now.....

For the past two nights, Tyson has used me as a body pillow.

I'll let you guess who got more sleep last night. Hint: She's the Mexican who has large, dark circles under her eyes.

After a couple sleepless nights, I let Mr. Ginestra know how things were going. Because obviously he wants a novel length text at 7:45 in the morning.

Tony: Good Morning! I love my king size bed, this is great, I could do somersaults if I wanted to!
Me: Ugh, I have a leg cramp - and dog hair in my ears - and a paw imprint on my face!
Tony: Well tell him to get down!
Me: Really? Every couple of hours, you would like me to wake out of coma-like sleep to tell the dog to 'get down' - have you met this dog?
Tony: Well, you're the boss!
Me: Oh right - because when his snout is all up in my armpit, I should just look down at him and say, Guess who's the boss - get down - I'll get right on that, it seems to work well at 2:45 am.

Alright - so the first two sentences didn't really happen. However, the snout in the armpit was for real. I guess I wasn't too stinky, he's still alive. However, he likes to sniff weird things on the ground.

But tonight is the last night - Tony is coming back in town tomorrow - can I get a heck yes! from the people! - and I'm going to show Tyson's who the boss is - I'd really like to not have snouts in my armpits for one night.

 

I can't wait to walk on you like a pull out couch....with memory foam.

Just A Nice Little Saturday...errr Monday

We've become those people who do weekend projects...except we sometimes choose to do them late at night...on weekdays. We obviously like to stray from the norm.  However, unlike my previous issues with starting but not finishing projects - we've started a big project: Operation Kitchen.

Oh yes - it's time for our lovely tile, white laminate, and gross & stained floors (I'm having an ultimate brain fart - sorry Mom- and cannot remember what our floors are called. Don't be surprised if it comes randomly in this post) to get out of dodge.

A few weekends ago - it began with paint. Oh wait - should I tell you our list of projects we want to accomplish. You know I love lists. Here is goes:

• Paint the yellow walls
• Fix the weird plaster that came off when Tony's house got broken in too
• Replace the nasty hood stove - nasty stove hood? with microwave
• Replace floors 
• Clean those nasty cobwebs from those freaking spiders who never leave - I'm looking at you Charlotte and your 74,529 kids!
• Replace back splash - the only vines I enjoy are when grapes are on them...at the beginning stages of wine
• Ruin the 1982 laminate counter tops - or maybe just replace them

Are you jealous? Don't worry - I took pictures of the before so you can really see the kitchen in all it's glory. Let me just say the one thing I enjoyed about the kitchen is the yellow walls. And boyaah - those suckers are gone.

Back to the beginning - a few weeks ago we painted. I've always liked the idea of painting rooms. And by this point, Tony and I have had our fair share of painting together. Let's just say this: I would like to call myself a pretty good taper - I did live with my Dad who was an intense taper. I do believe he would double check our tape jobs before actually painting.

And I would like to call Tony, well, it's great that he can reach higher than I can. Just kidding - he also likes to point out places that we've missed and spots to touch up.  Literally this morning: You'll have to touch up that spot right there, I mean I'll help you and stuff.

Thanks.

You would think a simple paint job would be simple - tape, mix, paint. Ugh. We like to add extra projects: like moving the stove and finding some more Slick Rick surprises, and making the decision to remove the stove hood - hood stove (what the heck is that called??) at which point I received this little gem from Tony:

"You know you get kind of bossy when we do projects."

Really? Did I mention he was telling me this as I was holding up the greasy stove hood Biggest Loser style.

That's love right there. But I digress - maybe it's been too long since I posted. Hmm. Anyway - our little kitchen project has led me to our Monday night adventure. Hello Lowe's.

Although we've already been there once to look at paint, back splash and counter tops, we just love going back for more! And we had to pick out and order new counter tops.....and back splash. Our first idea had gone well....then we actually looked at our flooring when it came in - but I'll save that for another post. Instead, I'll let you know what I did while Tony was talking to the counter top man - who looked like an animated Santa Clause with just the mustache. Oh yes.

Wow. This post is getting long. Whoops - well, I'll leave you with pictures. Some before of our kitchen remodel and how to entertain yourself in Lowes at 8:45 pm on a Monday evening.

Meet our Kitchen. Yellow & Bright....

Oh hello vines - see you in a glass soon enough

Our favorite back splash on the table...our next house.

Ah vines, you wanted a close up to show off your friend the stove hood?

Vinyl flooring....what every dream kitchen needs...at least I had new rugs down.

Put a little spackle on the door...it will help....maybe.

Oh Tyson - welcome to the tour....please clean up your slobber...the floor is dirty.

No? Running away. Fine.

 And now on to Lowe's entertainment....for your entertainment.

Obviously the loud beeping was shocking to me at 8:48 pm.

Meet the cart....that rolled to the right a bit...which carried our tile sample...cause I didn't want to carry it.

I'm serious about my tile. This is no joking manner....and I almost got caught taking pictures of myself. Don't judge.

Are you more confused than ever after reading this post? Me too, but that's an everyday occurrence. But tune in soon....or remind me to write. This weekends project: Tiling the floors. A weekend of Tony and friends becoming contractors. Multiple pictures will be taken. Maybe video if you are lucky.

Marking my Religion

Today marks Ash Wednesday - the start of Lent and the time where every good Catholic goes to church....or for those who remember their Catholic upbringing, go back to church until Easter.

I have already told Tony that I want to be better about going to church during Lent - I was great before the wedding, and then...well...not so great. And then my mom found out that I hadn't been going - apparently she has spies. Not really, but let's just say we have a lot of cousins everywhere.

But like a good Catholic girl, I went to mass over my lunch break.  It was very helpful that a Catholic Church is right now the street. And let me tell you - it was packed. The man I sat next to was kind of stinky. At first I thought he was a homeless man, but after a while, I figured he wasn't.

Church is always an interesting experience. I mean, I pray and all, but sometimes it can be like the airport. A great people watching place - especially on important holidays. However, as great as my people watching is, I always get a little nervous when it comes to certain parts of the mass, and no amount of people watching will let my mind stray from these nerves.

The sign of peace - or for my non-Catholic friends, the handshakes.

It's the time where I start getting nervous and my hands start sweating. Yep. I have sweaty hands - and not just when I workout. The sad part of it is that I can't hide it - I mean you can only say that you put on lotion so many times.

But today - I won in the sweaty hand department. Oh yes. After hoping that I wouldn't have to shake hands with the stinky man next to me who kept coughing in his hand - hello, doesn't he know the vampire cough/sneeze? - it happened. My hands began to sweat and I wondered if I could keep my hands dry enough to give the sign of peace to all of these strangers that I will never have to see again.

Luckily for me - all those around me shook fast.....but then I got a handshake from a man who had a cold, clammy, sweaty hand.

And I resisted the urge to wipe my hand on my jacket.

That's not all that I thought of during church though - don't worry mom - I did listen to the homily. Something about giving up chocolate....kidding, I kid.

Ash Wednesday is also the time when you get a cross of ashes on your forehead. It brought back lots of memories of grade school and high school Ash Wednesday all school mass. It was the time that every girl wished she had bangs, you hoped when you went up to receive your ashes that you didn't get someone with a heavy hand, and you didn't notice everyone looking at you funny - since they all had ashes like you.

Of course as live led on - things changed. Okay - well not the whole bang, heavy handed thing - but you realize not everyone gets ashes on their forehead. Lucky for me - everyone at work already knew that I was Catholic so it's not a huge deal to them to see me with a mark on my head....however there aren't many people to compare ashes too at work.

Guess I'll have to wait for my sister to get hers and swap pictures.