Posts from — April 2010

photo by c0r0

Happy almost-weekend everyone. I’m off work today, which I think is fitting since I worked 40 hours by Thursday morning. So, yeah, I’m just sitting here relaxing.

Ha.

That’s funny. Because I’m really scurrying around the house trying to get as much done as I can before I fly to Buffalo for a fun girls’ reunion. Or, um, my friend’s wedding.

So, about that title, huh? Don’t get any crazy ideas. This isn’t a post about Clint Eastwood. Well, OK, you can have one just for fun:

photo from here

There, get it out of your system. Good. Moving on, here are the good, bad, and ugly revelations of my week:

THE GOOD

photo by presta

I think it was Charlotte who suggested a while back that I freeze my pancakes and toast them at work. Well, after trying that I’d file it under The Brilliant, but then it wouldn’t work with the whole theme I’ve got going on here. So just know that this idea is very, very good. I just throw hot pancakes into a freezer bag straight from the griddle. When I’m ready to eat them, I defrost then toast them. Topped with peanut butter, they’re a delicious but offbeat lunch.

photo by lululemon athletica
Of course that’s how I downward dog.

It’s been 20 centuries since I did yoga (what, I haven’t had knee pain for that long?) but the other day I rolled out my mat and did a podcast from yogadownload.com. My body was screaming at me, and it went something like this: STOP! WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING TO ME? YOU MASOCHIST! STOP THESE KINDA-SORTA-PUSH-UP PLANK THINGIES RIGHT NOW! (Yep, my body talks in all caps. Annoying, I know.) I told it to shut up and I kept going. I’m glad I did, because my body felt strong and all sorts of amazing after. And, um, no knee pain. Woo. Hoo. Next up: Trying these exercises. (Before you start squealing, I’m not pregnant. But I do need to open hips made tight from sitting all day.)

THE BAD

photo by jek in the box

I’m not sure how this happened, but my suitcase is just as big for my two-day trip as it usually is for a weeklong one. I think I have a serious case of Can’tMakeupMyMinditis. Sure, I could just bring the black dress and be done with it. (Maybe use the rest of my day to read a book or take a nap or pluck my eyebrows. You know, seriously fun stuff.) But no, my disease forces me to wonder what would happen if it were cold. Or hot. Or what if I didn’t feel like blue on Saturday? And what would happen if I didn’t pack but suddenly really wanted to wear that eye shadow I used once back in 2006? So I hem and haw and then pack it all. Then I let out a deep sigh and start removing pieces. Apparently The Man needs to bring clothes, too.

photo by dmi82

Because knee pain really isn’t so bad, my body has given me another injury. And this time I’m sure it didn’t just shout in all caps. It did it with attitude, too. LADY, YOUR FOOT’S GOING TO HURT FOR A WHILE, it said. Why? Why can’t you just let me be with my knee pain? BECAUSE I’M YOUR BODY AND I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT. HA HA HA. HA HA. And it laughed an evil laugh, I swear. So here’s the deal: The bottom of my foot hurts and the pain gets worse when I exercise. If it keeps up for a few more days, I’m taking it to the doctor. I don’t need another chronic injury thankyouverymuch.

THE UGLY

photo by brew ha ha

I’m kind of ashamed to say this after confessing about my eggplant mishap here, but here it goes: I roasted eggplant last night for my pasta and I wasn’t impressed. It didn’t burn and it looked OK. I know I should like it and I know I’ve liked it before, but something is off when I make it. I’ll probably try to make it again, but not for a long while. (OK, fine. I’ll make it pretty soon after this fail since I still have another eggplant in the fridge. But after that? We’re going on a break.)

photo from amazon.com

If you’re like me, you’ve probably thought to yourself, I wonder how Regis Philbin stays so slim and trim. (Let’s hope that’s where your thoughts of Regis’ body ends, mkay?) Then check out his old workout video—plus two others, one by a Golden Girl. That’s all I’ll say, then urge you to enjoy the flick.

What are your good, bad, and ugly observations from the week?

photo by anitacanita

There are two things you should know about me right now. One: I used to be a big pill popper, taking Excedrin at the slightest twinge of headache. Two: I’m not anymore. And you should probably know that I’m at an increased risk for breast cancer because my father’s mother had it in her 20s. So I guess that’s three things.

Anyhow, I’m not going to take a stance one way or another because, frankly, I’m on the fence. But I wanted to get your opinion on something I read recently. Doctors are baffled as to why women won’t pop a breast-cancer prevention pill. Here’s the deal:

• Breast cancer is the No. 2 killer of U.S. women.
• The drug tamoxifen can lower the risk of breast cancer in high-risk women by 50 percent.
• Side effects include an upped risk for blood clots, uterine cancer, and cataracts.
• The researchers say the risk of side effects is low—less than 1 percent for uterine cancer, for instance.
• According to one of the researchers, “Tamoxifen in pre-menopausal women is really a no-brainer.”

What would you do? Would you take the drug because your risk of breast cancer is higher than your risk of side effects? Would you skip it—and why?

photo by D Sharon Pruitt

Well, I’m back. Apparently my skull-splitting headache wasn’t fatal and I will live to see another headache-free day. Phew. That was a close call seeing as last night I was convinced I’d never be rid of the slicing pain. And if you missed my post yesterday about 10 ways to fight headaches, check it out. There are some really good tips in the comments. (I love my readers.)

So, go figure, it’s Wednesday. Normally I’d say that with a deep sigh but today I’m all peppy (couldn’t you tell that through the Internet? Nope? Hm.) because I only have one more day of work till I head to Buffalo for my friend’s wedding. I’m still at that stage where going to friends’ weddings are fun and not a chore. Gimme a few more years and several more weddings, and I might be saying this with a sigh.

The reason I really love going to friends’ weddings (aside from, you know, the wedded bliss the married couple will know from now until eternity; and if you’re married you know I say this sarcastically) is that I get to catch up with my college buddies. These are the girls I traveled throughout New Zealand with. In case you don’t know what it’s like to live in New Zealand for six months with a great group of friends, it goes something like this*: [Read more →]

photo by migraine chick
Funny, that’s how I feel.

I was just wondering what to write about today when the idea struck. It hit me right in the face—between the eyeballs, if you really want to know. No one told me this is what it felt like to be visited by the muse.

So, what better topic than headaches. (No, we won’t discuss the perpetual headaches in your life. We’ll get to kids and husbands at a later date.) Instead, I thought I’d provide you with a list of ways to get rid of a headache. I’m practically an expert after all. Lucky me.

1. Meds. Kind of self-explanatory, huh? Here are my thoughts on headache meds: They’re great if you get a headache once a year or even once a month, but when your skull is on the verge of exploding weekly these probably won’t do much. Take it from me. Excedrin loses its potency if you pop it all the time. Ahem, not that I used to do that or anything. On the flip side, now that I’m not taking any anti-inflammatories (because I’m getting PRP), one dose kills my headache on contact.

2. Sleep. Sure, you say, it’s not easy to get to sleep while little gnomes try to drill through your skull from the inside out. But if the room is dark enough and quiet enough you might be able to lull those brain gnomes to bed at the same time as you. Things go faster if you put a cold wash cloth over your eyes.

3. Shower. A long, hot shower sometimes makes my ache disappear … or at least die down a bit. If I follow this with a nap, I can usually cut the pain in half. Usually. [Read more →]

First of all, welcome back to the workweek. I’m sure that you’re just as anxious to get back to work after the weekend as I am. Which is to say: Not. At. All. This weekend The Man and I visited our new niece, Samantha Lee, who is teensy and all sorts of cute. And, no, I didn’t break her, like I thought I would. But newborns really seem so fragile, don’t they?

Onward!

I’ve always been a loser. Not that kind of loser (though you could argue for that). I’ve always lost contests and drawing and really cool raffles where you get a free gift certificate to Denny’s. But then a week ago I became a winner.

Allow me to gloat for a minute.

I won a box full of awesome Amazing Grass products from Eat Move Love’s contest, and receive my winnings the other day. I haven’t tried them all, though I did consider taste testing each at once. I thought better of it when I realize I needed to make my stash last. Anyhow, I did try the chocolate protein bar, which was, as advertised, amazing.

I ripped open the chocolate protein bar and broke it in half. See how nice I am? I shared my winnings with The Man even though they were mine! All mine! My precious… Ahem. Anyhow…

Here’s how it all went down. In pretty pictures. [Read more →]

photo by d sharon pruitt

I was just about to start a post like this: I hate my knees. I hate my life. Wah.

OK, maybe it wasn’t going to be exactly like that, but you get the idea. Sometimes having a chronic injury sucks. And when the weather gets warmer it especially sucks. In winter, I was OK staying at home and doing nothing. The weather was too cold to leave the house anyway. Come spring? I want to get outside. I want to go for a walk in the park or window shop downtown. So, yeah, the whole knee-pain thing really gets to me and I start feeling bad for myself. But just as I was about to pour out virtual tears, I started thinking about June 2008.

June 2008 was my low point. My knees were in such pain, The Man would carry me from the couch to the kitchen in our 600-square-foot apartment. When The Man wasn’t home, I’d inch my way to the bathroom on the floor. Because making the 8-foot trip was too painful. I couldn’t brush my teeth standing up (thank goodness for long countertops). I’d get dressed sitting down. As soon as I got home from work, I’d pile four pillows under my feet and ice for an hour. I had to buy bigger jeans because my regular ones were too tight around my swollen knees.

Back in June 2008, The Man picked me up outside our apartment and dropped me off before parking the car—even though the parking space was a few feet away. (Good news: I became a pro at turning just about anything into a seat. Including but not limited to curbs, fire hydrants, a newspaper bin, and the floor. No shame, people.)

Looking back just two years, I see how far my knees have come. (You can read my entire, really long story here.) [Read more →]

photo by roberto rizzato
Yes, she really wore this much makeup. No, I’m not kidding.

Dear Woman with Too Much Makeup,

We can tell you’ve never experienced a gym before, so we’d like to bring something to your attention: You must share the machines. Management has checked the books and discovered that other members do in fact pay to use the gym, too. Frankly, we are as shocked as you are. Thus, going forth, you will not be allowed to dump all of your gear onto the leg press machine and walk away for five minutes. Unfortunately, unlike middle school, there is no calling fives at the gym. Or really anywhere else in life. Other members deem it unacceptable to wait for 15 minutes as you wander the gym, relax on the machine, and crank out a single set before repeating the entire process on another machine. We’re sorry for the inconvenience this may cause you.

Kindly,
Gym Management

photo by archangelus gabriel
Dude, you think that girl wants to use this machine we’re talking on?
Nahh, she just loves your short shorts.

Dear Chatty Men,

While Management believes socialization builds fruitful gym relationships, we discourage chitchatting while resting on a machine. While your banter may be enjoyable, other members have expressed concern about your occupying the machines solely for conversation—not for strength training. In the future, step away from the machines and continue your conversation in the conveniently located chairs near the weight room.

Kindly,
Gym Management

photo by lululemon athletica
Psst…We’re going to stay tight. Love, your hamstrings.

Dear Hamstrings,

A certain gimpy member has brought to our attention your stubbornness. It is our understanding that you are staying purposefully tight to spite said member. She appreciates the fact that you actually work. (Unlike other body parts we will not name. Knees.) However, she would appreciate it if you’d loosen after 20 minutes of stretching. Soreness is not becoming. Consider this your final warning: Cut. It. Out.

Kindly,
Gym Management

photo by canon in 2d
To answer your question, of course I can do that. Psht.

Dear Yoga Class,

Management applauds your motivation. However, we’ve been noticing lately how crowded the room has become. Certain members have expressed interest in starting up yoga again, but they’re concerned the jam-packed room may not allow for the attention to injury they require. May we suggest a 6 p.m. power spinning class instead? It’s similar to yoga in that there’s an instructor. Or how about hip hop aerobics? Like yoga, there is an A in the name. It also uses music, which yoga has, too. In closing, get the heck out of that yoga studio. Ahem.

Kindly,
Gym Management

photo by ed yourdon

Thanks for all of your great de-stressing tips. I’m going to take them to heart tonight when I get off work. The good thing is that The Man and I are in it together. Sure, we both look like zombies. But at least we’ve got another zombie to look to for sympathy.

For today’s post, I’ll start with a confession: I’m a picky eater. (Anyone who knows me in real life—as opposed to my Internet life—is laughing right now. OK, so maybe that’s an understatement. A kind of big one.) So I hate onions, and garlic makes my stomach hurt. I won’t do mayo. Unless it’s in tuna. Slimy lunch meat is out. So is meatloaf. Ketchup is OK on fries—but not eggs or meat. If I wanted to waste 1,000 words on it, I’d continue. But I’m tired. And you’d leave me.

My point is that there are a lot of foods that gross me out, and up until two weeks ago, beets used to be one of them. I always thought they were possibly the most beautiful food. But they tasted like dirt. Wet, cold dirt. And then.

The Man and I took his father out to dinner to say, “Thanks for letting us borrow your car for days on end while we haggled for our own.” Anyhow, we ordered a beet salad at the restaurant—and no, I didn’t take a picture because I’m not a food blogger and certainly not cool enough to whip out a camera in a restaurant—that totally changed my mind.

Maybe I had never eaten decent beets before. Maybe my tastes changed. Whatever the reason, I almost arm wrestled The Man and his dad for the last bite. The salad was so simple, even I could recreate it. And that’s saying a lot seeing as I’m only mildly proficient in the kitchen. (As always, forgive me for my imprecise directions. But I figure that if I can whip this up as-is, so can you.) I made this salad last week for dinner and The Man, lover of all things fried, raved.

1 beet
1 ruby red grapefruit, sectioned
Arugula
Goat cheese, extra soft
Oil and red wine vinegar

Rinse the beet, dry lightly, then roll in Kosher salt before wrapping in Tinfoil and baking. You’ll know it’s done when a fork inserted into it goes in easily. Once the beet is cool, peel the skin off and slice it into cubes.

Mix the arugula with a drizzle of oil and red wine vinegar so that it’s just lightly coated. Plate the arugula then place beets, grapefruit sections, and goat cheese on top of it. One beet plus one grapefruit should be plenty for two people.

What vegetable did you used to hate as a kid but now like? What did it take for you to come around?

photo by blw photography

We’re going to do something different today. I like to keep you all guessing and using your brains because, well, it can prevent Alzheimer’s and that’s probably something we all want to avoid. Like how I snuck that health tidbit in there? That was me helping you. Which brings me to today’s post…

Instead of going on and on and telling you all about the latest stress-related study, I thought I’d ask for your help. Because what’s a blog for if not for getting advice minus the therapist’s bill? (And don’t consider billing me. I won’t send a check.)

Here’s the deal: I’m stressed. I’m fairly certain there’s a great conspiracy going on where the earth has been pushed into warp speed and we’re now circling the sun so fast that we’re left with 12-hour days. I know this is true not because I hacked into NASA computers, but because my days have been cut in half. How else would you explain all the time that’s missing?

While The Man is loving his new job*, I’m not loving the hours. Getting up at 5:45 a.m., starting work at 7, and plugging away until 6:30 p.m. is draining the energy from me. Since I would like to get to bed by 10:30—any later and the next morning I resemble A. an insomniac, B. a hung over frat boy, C. Night of the Living Dead, or D. all of the above—that leaves me three and a half hours to go to the gym, eat, clean up the mess we created while cooking dinner, make tomorrow’s lunch, and get ready for bed. Hence the stress. Because that schedule leaves zero room for de-stressing. And that fact stresses me out. (See where I’m going? It’s a vicious, vicious cycle. If you don’t watch out, it’ll tear your arm off or do something equally as gruesome.)

So what do you all do to de-stress when life gets so crazy you can’t even remember the last time your discussion with your spouse didn’t sound something like, “OK, you get the dishes. I have the lunches. And break!”

*I’d like to get on the record saying I’m ecstatic that The Man loves his job. I’m not a horrible wife, I swear. Just tired.

Can you believe that this:

Is 28 today?

Me neither. I’m celebrating today (you know, by going to work all day and fun stuff like that) but I’ll be back (and older and wiser) tomorrow.

While I’m off partying like it’s 1982 over in cubicle 10, entertain yourselves:

These tips for going local on a budget are particularly useful since The Man and I are vowing to spend less.

Just in time for summer, a seriously simple guide to cutting a mango without wasting most of the flesh. Not that I do that or anything.

We’re back to not stretching, at least before workouts. I’m assuming a post-workout stretch is still a-OK. At least until the next study comes out.

Britney Spears has been turned into an airbrushed Barbie, and her “before” isn’t that bad. But that airbrushing was totally, 100 percent, absolutely, without a doubt necessary.

Disappointed you didn’t make the team, get the guy, win the bet, or whatever else it is that makes you curl up in the fetal position and suck on a chocolate bar? Here are seven surprisingly helpful tips for getting over it.

Which story do you find most interesting? And are you with me: The Briney Spears ad is unnecessarily photoshopped?