As the days grow hotter, our time indoors increases and my potential subjects for photography decrease tremendously. Of course, my urge to snap photos struck hardest around 3pm yesterday, when the temperature outside was mid-90s with 137% humidity. Instead of venturing outdoors to capture the magic of heat mirages on our concrete driveway, I decided to stay indoors and begin a new series of photographs. Here are some of my favorite objects in my home. Many of these remind me of specific places and times, so the memories that they invoke are perhaps far more significant than the images themselves. Of COURSE, I thought of a half-dozen more favorite things after I had uploaded these from my flash card, and that is why these are just the first few of what will probably become an ongoing series.
Four-way cruciform medal bearing the images of the Sacred Heart, the Miraculous (St. Mary), St. Joseph and St. Christopher. I bought this for myself during my first few months of RCIA training in 1999.
My mom held a huge garage sale earlier this spring, but not before offering me first pick of anything I wanted from the to-go pile. Hot off of my own purging exercise, I wasn't keen on bringing home a bunch of fluff. This trifle dish was the only piece I chose, and I filled it with river rocks that remind me of my favorite childhood vacation spot.
Fabric-covered box bought at a little boutique in Laguna Beach, CA sometime in 2000 or 2001.
My love for all writing implements, especially permanent markers is probably not healthy. But I keep on buying them because I am a woman obsessed.
Mayan Calendar purchased from a vendor in the Kiwi market in Cancun in August 1999.
Waterford Easter egg--a gift from my mother on the occasion of my confirmation in April, 2000.
Cupcakes. Cupcakes. Cupcakes.
Inexpensive glass jars purchased from Hobby Lobby in the early 90s, when I was poor. They've inhabited at least six different bathrooms.
Framed greeting card bearing the text of Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 that my mother sent to me during a stint of bad decisions (on my part) in the mid-90s. It's beautiful to me for many reasons.
Boots, size 6 toddler. Ridiculously adorable on my boy.
I'm over at Liz's ogling her GORGEOUS baby girl and enjoying some much-needed city-time.
OK, well, I'm not really in Brooklyn, but a girl can pretend, can't she? I did get to write a couple of guestposts for her, so it's almost just like the same thing, right? Right?
Go on over there to congratulate Liz on her beautiful little girl and read some of my ideas for helping out your friend who just brought home a new baby.
Any of you Weight Watchers out there? How're you holding up?
I actually quite like the online version of the program. There's something about the counting and earning and tracking of POINTS™ with slick charts and quick calculators that keeps me motivated. Checking off little glasses of water and veggies and "healthy oils" appeals to the geeky little rule-follower in me. We'll see how long that lasts.
I've also discovered a new guilty pleasure. No, it's not the faux Frosty recipe (1c skim milk, 1T FF/SF Choc pudding, 2T FF Cool Whip, 6 ice cubes, blend until smooth=3 you-know-whats) or those teeny tiny Weight Watchers cakes. It's the Weight Watchers Community message boards. Want to read some drama? Just log on to the Flex Plan message board and read the debates over the benefits and drawbacks of PB2. By the way, did you know that such a thing existed? Living a Life of POINTS™ will make even 85% fat free powdered peanut butter sound downright delectable. So I ordered some.
Believe me, shaving those calories off of my peanut butter portions will make a difference. Today, I exceeded my weekly POINTS™allotment by 0.5 point and the tracker displayed "EXCEEDED" in big red glowy letters above the overage. It was probably snorting at me too, but thankfully I keep my speakers on mute.
I will weigh in for the week in about 12 hours, so in order to prevent any further damage to my very delicate POINTS™situation, I have decided to go to bed, where sweet dreams of PB2 and Cool Whip Free surely await me.
His own father died when he was just a teenager. He describes his father as quiet and tender and playful. He remembers that his dad had a nickname for everyone. He once told me about the winters when he and his brother were small and they lived in the country without many of the amenities that we enjoy today. At bedtime, their dad would tell them to go warm up the bed. He and his brother would jump under the covers and flap their legs back and forth, snow-angel-style, to shoo the cold from the bed. Then, they would all three sleep there warmly together. I think that is one of the reasons I never faced a syllable of opposition to cosleeping with Al.
The Mr. nurtures Al in ways that even I do not. He never raises his voice. Never. He will take the time to transform bath time and tooth-brushing time and even diaper-changing time into the most entertaining games ever, just to add more fun to Al's day. He is quiet and tender and playful and kind and loving, even in the midst of temper tantrums and toxic poop. He has about 17 adorable and hilarious nicknames for Al. When he works from sunrise to nightfall, he almost cries when he kisses his sleeping son goodbye or goodnight, he misses him so.
He loves him so. And for that, I love him even more.
Dear God, Thank you for blessing me with a boy who is mostly easy-going and well-behaved. Thank you for helping him to feel happy and content, no matter where we go. Thank you especially for making him act right in public most of the time.
And God, please help those people over there near that lady whose toddler is screaming her bloody head off to be compassionate. Help them to realize that some kids are just born difficult and that it's probably not that poor mom's fault that her kid is acting a fool. Help them not to give her dirty looks, because you know she's already feeling like crap.
And that mom? God, just help her. Help her to remember that some kids are just born difficult and that it's not her fault. Help her to stay calm and collected, at least until they get out to the car. Please give her the patience and strength and tenderness that she needs to get through this. And when she gets home, let her cupboards be fully stocked with chocolate. And vodka.
My recent commitment to Weight Watchers lit a new fire under my tuchus to get busy in the kitchen. I can no longer rely on my standby diet of quesadillas and Coke floats, but I've got to have something tasty that won't wipe out all of my points before 9am.
I've dabbled in vegetarianism on and off for several years, and up until a couple of weeks ago, I hadn't eaten meat in over 4 months. During that time, I discovered a product that most vegetarians and vegans use it regularly. It's TVP, a. k. a. Texturized Vegetable Protein, and it's pretty nifty. If you're brave enough to try it (that's right, I'm calling you out), you can find it at your local health food store for about $3 a pound. That one pound will make about 12 cups of meat-like, uh, stuff.
This is 1/2 cup TVP mixed with a scant 1/2 cup of hot water. Yum, huh? Don't get your nose too close. It smells a little bit like fish food.
I added the TVP and a packet of taco seasoning. I added a little water to the mixture, just like the directions on the packet said to do.
And soon, I had a mixture that looked like this: I threw some of that on top of a mixed salad with some chopped salmonella fruit tomatoes and a little cheese, and I took a picture of it before I doused it with light ranch dressing and half a jar of salsa.
And it was good.
While not everyone will enjoy a pure TVP "meat" mixture, I bet most everyone could use TVP as a stretcher for ground beef or turkey. It has way fewer calories and fat than the real thing, it doesn't taste like anything except for what you want it to taste like, and it is dirt cheap.
At about 5 months into my pregnancy with Al, I reached a milestone. I was once again the same weight that I had been fifteen years earlier when I first joined Weight Watchers. Seeing that number on the scale was a shock, but I was sure that it was just temporary.
I was wrong.
When Al was born, my weight quickly reduced to that same number within a couple of weeks. "Sweet!" I thought. I'd be back to normal within another couple of weeks.
I was wrong.
Eight weeks later, it was time to return to work. My old work clothes no longer fit, because I was still at that same weight. I was nursing, and I had realized that cutting out too many calories decreased my milk supply, so serious dieting was out of the question. So off I went to buy some "in-between" work outfits. "I won't have to wear this size for very long," I told myself when I cringed at the number on the tag.
I was wrong.
Two years later, I'm still wearing those "in between" outfits. I haven't nursed for over a year, so there's really no excuse.
It's time to bite the bullet. I joined Weight Watchers online on Sunday.
