Desperate Times

It's now official. Michelle recently set in motion plans for a week long trip to Hawaii in early September -- without the kids. She can hardly contain her excitement (though I've had difficulty discerning whether her affection the past few days is because she loves me or because she loves this vacation).

At any rate, that gives me little more than three months to at last meet my weight loss goals, which right now are about 20 lbs. away.

Toward that end, and recognizing that the love of sugar is the root of all evil, I committed last night to do without sugar for nearly a month -- using the same kind of stick incentives that've brought me success in the past. It's unfortunate that it came to this, but alas, desperate times call for desperate measures. I lament that I'm not stronger and cannot instead simply adopt a protocol of moderation.

So, as a personal favorite to me, please feel free to enjoy generous amounts of peanut M&Ms, Cookies & Cream ice cream*, and sale priced sugar cereal over the next month or so. It will mercifully mean less for me.

*A recent weakness.

American Idol Woes

There it was. Michelle and I had invested almost two hours in the American Idol season finale -- on a 20 minute DVR delay. We'd waded through random musical numbers, including "Wind Beneath My Wing" from an apparently inebriated Bette Midler.* We endured awkward, cringe-inducing "Golden Idol" awards, and a Clive Owen speech about how wonderful American Idol is and how many records they've sold. We didn't want to, but we did -- and it would all be worth it when they announced the winner of this year's American Idol is...


Hey! Wait a minute! What the...?!


Alas, our DVR stopped recording the show just as the winner was about to be announced. For a few seconds, Michelle alternated between anxious, high-pitched squeals, and threatening growls (strangely resembling a menacing coyote).** Since we'd been on a 20 minute DVR, we totally missed the ending. All was lost. We had to check out the online news websites to find out Jordin won.

I blame on the fact that Michelle opted against voting for Melinda Doolittle last week. (I still debating whether to ever forgive her for that.)



* Though maybe she was just trying to liven up the song by acting inebriated.

** She also came very close violating one our recently added house rules: Don't throw the big TV.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

I took Jared to his first Cubs game a few days ago -- they were playing the Padres here in San Diego. I'm not sure which of us was more excited: Jared, who would get to ride the trolley, drink lemonade, and eat popcorn; or me, getting to watch the Cubs in an idealized father-son evening.

It started out that way. Jared was fascinated by the trolley, peppered me with questions most of the way there, and stole the hearts of the surrounding passengers.

The game, however, was a little different story. Oh the hot dog, lemonade, nachos, and ice cream cone were everything Jared had hoped for. He cheered for the fireworks following the home runs (and I let him, even though they were for the wrong team), and asked me more then twice when we were going to be able to get out on the field and play. I hadn't quite counted on the possibility, though, of a nearby drunk guy screaming words Jared had never heard before, at the top of his lungs, at some of our favorite players. The man must have thought himself quite amusing...that is, until I put him in a non-lethal version of the Siberian choke-hold.*

Michelle and I are now waiting out the next few days to see if Jared managed to learn any new words lately.

*No, not really. Only with great effort, however, did I manage to avoid throwing peanuts at him.

Mother's Day Meanderings

Semi-organized thoughts and anecdotes from the last three weeks:

• Among the highlights of my two week training in South Carolina: I went nearly two weeks without sugar. To acknowledge the accomplishment, I devoured a 12 oz. bag of Peanut Butter M&Ms for dinner the following evening.* [Obviously, as long as I'm eating them to replace a meal -- instead of in addition to a meal -- I figure I'm cutting calories.]
• Leading up to perhaps the most important day this century -- July 21, 2007 -- I've started re-reading the Harry Potter series. Oddly, when I've been caught reading these books on the trolley or an airplane several adults have felt quite at liberty to strike up a conversation discussing the books [the kids normally just smile or nod approvingly.]
• I set a new record yesterday on our exercise bike: 10 miles, burning 596 calories in 24:36. This bested my previous record for the 10 miler, set in May 2005, by 14 calories and a full 20 seconds. I chalk it up mostly to temporary insanity and a dash of guilt over what I'd eaten the night before.
• I've now seen two late night screenings of Spider-Man 3 since it came out last week, and have fallen asleep during both viewings.
• We went out for pizza with friends Friday night. What does it say about a pizza place that their best dish is an ice cream sundae?
• Jared and I got Michelle a Mother's Day gift yesterday -- an IKEA gift card. Though Jared was supposed to tell Michelle it was a secret, he instead immediately told her exactly what we'd bought: a red card. Even so, our established family routine should have required Michelle to at least feign some obliviousness [and thus maintain the illusion of a surprise]. After all, it's only common courtesy. But she didn't. Instead, she defiantly declared that she was pretty sure she knew what we'd bought. So I gave her the gift a day early and she lamented that I'd spoiled Mother's Day. That'll teach her.
• Speaking of Mother's Day, Michelle, anxious for a sugar fix of her own this evening and recognizing she'd used up all the eggs yesterday, asked that I make her no bake cookies tonight. [In my youth I was a master at the art of the no bake cookie, having learned to keep them on the stove for just the right amount of time to ensure the proper texture.] Making them tonight, though, brought back teenage memories, including one time I had made no bake cookies on 3 consecutive evenings. On the third evening, when my dad found me hovering over the stove as the milk, sugar, butter, and cocoa came to a rolling boil, he rebuked me and wondered openly whether I wasn't addicted to sugar.** Obviously he couldn't have been further from the truth.

* My research indicates that Peanut Butter M&Ms are far inferior to their more upstanding older brother, the Peanut M&Ms How can I tell? In a typical 12 oz. bag of Peanut Butter M&Ms, I start feeling disgust and regret before I even hit the halfway point in the bag. With the 13 oz. Peanut M&Ms bags, those feelings are easily delayed until at least 2/3 of the way through the bag. Never mind that I end up finishing the bag in one sitting either way, the Peanut M&Ms offer a far less unpleasant experience.

** Mind you, he never actually told me to stop making the cookies.