Monthly Archives: January 2012

More About Coffee and Cream


244.3, after breakfast and coffee

At some point, I promise, I will stop whining about the lack of half & half in my life. This is not that point. Try back later.

I had to run to the store yesterday, having none of a key dinner ingredient. While there, I noticed that Silk makes coffee creamer. Score! I picked some up. Today my coffee had liquid creamer! YAY!

Or not. There is a strange after taste to this coffee that I either love or hate. I haven’t quite decided. The marriage of coffee and creamer is a strange one. I have a several types of coffee in my rotation and half & half is the only additive that suits them all. Some like a Sweet Italian Cream Coffeemate, and some prefer the Chocolate Mint International Delight. The Revv K-cups like a heavy hit of milk, followed by a topper of Cinnamon Cream Coffeemate.

It’s possible I have put too much thought into this. I love my coffee and cream combos.

No kidding, Captain Obvious.

Food is fuel, but doggoneit, I put good fuel in my car. Why wouldn’t I do so for my body? I want to enjoy what I eat. There’s not a damn thing wrong with that. Moderation, not deprivation, right?

But no half & half.

This is my sad puppy-dog face.


Day One, Dairy (and zombie) Free


247, first thing in the morning

Oh! I had such grand intentions for today. Early wake-up, a little Yoga, non-dairy creamer in my coffee…

You know what they say about 2 outta 3. It’s more like 1 outta 3, but they don’t say anything about that, to the best of my knowledge.

My husband and I watched the first episode of The Walking Dead last night and I was so freaked out and upset, I couldn’t fall asleep. AT ALL. At 3:30 this morning, I was lying in bed, dissecting the scenes that I found most terrifying. You know, all of them. I spent the entire episode as taut as a bowstring, waiting for the cathartic BOO! moment, knowing I could relax after that. But there was none. Instead, the tension shambled and crept and grew inexorably, much like a crowd of zombies. We went to bed, my husband laughing as I checked all the doors. I stopped short at drawing the curtains, but only because I knew it would send him into hysterics. Lordy, it’s been a while since I was that unsettled. Congratulations AMC. You scared the bejeezuz out of me. Now bring back my damn Mad Men.

Are you wondering what my 2 out of 3 were? Here’s a hint: I’m still taut as a bowstring. My son came in at 6:30ish, asking for breakfast, and so, much like a zombie, I staggered into the kitchen, earlier than I would have preferred, and made both breakfast and a cup of coffee with non-dairy creamer. Let me just say, it was crap. I like my half & half, folks. I like it a lot. One might even say I depend upon it. Addicted is not too strong a term. And so here I go, kicking the crack of the dairy world. I’ll also be kicking it’s version of heroin (cheese), cocaine (yogurt), meth (sour cream) and…I’ve exhausted my drug knowledge. I’m very sheltered. Perhaps Breaking Bad would have been a better choice?

I haven’t given up on my Yoga. Tonight, when my husband is bathing the kids, I’ll queue it up and try to get ten minutes in before I give up under the weight of his covert scrutiny. He likes to watch me exercise. He’s sort of perverted that way. If you’re curious, I’m doing the Ten Minute Solution Yoga workouts, via Netflix streaming.

Bending, for the non-bendy!

I’m not what you’d call yoga-literate, but this is easy to follow, physically challenging but doable and most important, she doesn’t make me cuss at my tv. You’d be surprised how many workout dvds inspire filthy language. Back in the day, my mom and I used to do a Joan Lunden VHS tape that we’d talk back to, calling poor Ms. Lunden all manner of rude names. It was effective, but incredibly annoying. I like to think the foul language burned an calorie or two.

 At any rate, this one is considerably less annoying and if my level of achiness is any indication, equally effective. I’m going to go make another cup of coffee and give myself cancer with the powdered garbage that calls itself “creamer.” I’m sort of betting it plays into the whole zombie apocalypse plot on Walking Dead. Maybe the epidemic was rooted in dairy/gluten alternatives, which is why you NEVER see a zombie drinking milk or eating a peanut butter sandwich. Or maybe you do. I only saw the one episode and I like sleep too well to watch any more.

The Quest For Skinny Pants Begins


I’ll turn 40 this year. For two decades, I’ve been overweight. 

You have NO idea how much I hate typing that.

But it is what it is and frankly, with the big 4-o looming, it feels like time to shed the weight and perhaps the baggage that accompanies it.

Easier said than done, I’m afraid. This isn’t my first go ’round. It isn’t even my first weight loss blog. Oh, the shame.  But I’m back on the horse. And the scale.

May I just say, DAMN!

120 extra pounds, three kids, two marriages, some crippling student loan debt and a stalled career are what the past two decades have yielded. Let’s see if we can change that, hmm?

After a chat with my doctor to discuss my plantar fascitis (from being fat, naturally), she asked me to try eliminating dairy and red meat from my diet. I’m also meant to email her my weight once a week. Doesn’t that sound like a party?

No, it doesn’t to me either.

But here we go.