And Now, Ironically, I Will Talk About Weight Watchers

I know, I know yesterday I talked about a pie.  And not just any pie, the richest pie you could ever possibly eat.  That pie is like the opposite of Weight Watchers.

But that pie was for the greater good, to support a grieving family in the face of tragedy.  Bigger picture, people.  BIGGER PICTURE.

However, here in the small details of my everyday life, it's time for me to buckle down and get serious about weight loss. 

Again.  

I realize the exact details about how my most recent weight gain happened are kind of not altogether scientifically accurate, nor are my behaviors based on any kind of sound reasoning.  But, the basic story is that I kind of took a major Weight Watchers vacation during my trip.  Now, the trip was a week long.  The Weight Watchers vacation was more like a month long, because I decided to add in a little extra Weight Watchers staycation before and after my actual week of travels. 

This past Saturday I got up the courage to face the music and weigh myself at home.  And, in the month that I was off of Weight Watchers, I had ...

... lost 7 pounds. 

Buoyed by my new weight loss non-efforts, I decided I'd have one more all-you-can-eat gorge-fest Sunday at the Renaissance Faire.  The highlight of that day's eating was this loaf of bread that was actually like a cinnamon roll in loaf form.  Here is a picture of Katie, who is very thin and obviously eats responsibly most of the time, modeling the loaf:

I called it "the bread that God eats."

So, two pickles, a bread bowl with broccoli-cheddar soup, the bread that God eats, toffee, an Italian ice, and the Mexican takeout we got on the way home later, and ...

... I had gained 7 pounds by Monday morning.  

Monday morning I dragged myself to Spin, the most calorie-burning workout that I can possibly muster, and then to Weight Watchers, where, according to their scale, I was:

• 10 pounds heavier than I had been on my home scale Saturday (which, again, you can't always compare two different scales, but still)
• 3 pounds heavier than I had been that exact morning on my home scale (see parenthetical caveat of previous bullet point)
• 4 pounds heavier than my previous Weight Watchers weigh-in
• 8 pounds heavier than my Weight Watchers low of this particular weight-loss effort
• generally just a fat-ass
• angry and disappointed

How could I let it get to this point?  And I know, I know you can't look back.  Nothing can be done about the past, all you can do is improve your behavior in the present so you won't have regrets tomorrow.  One of my favorite Eagles lyric quotes goes:

"Right or wrong, what's done is done,
It's only moments that we borrow."
--The Eagles, "Try and Love Again"

So, I get it, no looking back and all that.  But, for crying out loud, how many times have I said this?  How many times have I failed?  When will I ever get this right? 

But I also know that self-hatred is not the best spirit in which to lose weight.  So, in the interests of looking on the bright side, I will consider the following:

I'm proud that I always end up going back.  I am proud that even when I slack off a bit, I always rein it back in, difficult as it may be.  The door to Weight Watchers may as well have one of those "DO NOT ENTER!  SEVERE TIRE DAMAGE!" pokey grate thingies on it, because that's how hard it feels to cross the threshold of the Weight Watchers facility sometimes. 

But I do it.  I force myself to go back.  And then I go and buy myself flowers or jewelry or lotions or some other form of inedible reward.  Weight Watchers is very expensive.  But I like to think little baubles are going to be cheaper than the eventual angioplasty I'll have to get if I don't lose weight.  Prettier, too. 

And so, here I sit, back on the proverbial horse.  And I'm focusing on another quote for inspiration, one that Weight Watchers itself actually put on its Facebook page:

"Fall down seven times, get up eight."
--Japanese proverb

Or, closer to home, something my stepmom always said when I was growing up:

"Shannon lets her room get messy sometimes, but you can always count on her to clean it up eventually."

And, with that, I am off to eat half a cup of oatmeal topped with fresh fruit.  Wish me luck!  (Not on the oatmeal thing; I can probably figure that one out.  But, you know, just in general.) 

When Blogging is Beautiful

I know I've been a little bit down on bloggers and blogging lately.  But every so often a story comes out that illustrates the power of the Internet to bring people together in such beautiful ways during times of tragedy.  I recently heard of one such story. 

Jennifer Perillo is a food blogger who writes the blog In Jennie's Kitchen.  I don't know Jennie personally, and I admit that since I don't really read food blogs, I wasn't familiar with her blog before I heard this story. 

On Sunday, August 7, Jennie's husband Michael died suddenly of a heart attack.  From the photos she has shared, he appears to have been a relatively young, fit man.  Jennie and Michael have two young daughters.

The food blogging community came together in support of Jennie, asking what they could do to help.  Jennie asked that people make Michael's favorite peanut butter pie on Friday, August 12.  Food bloggers everywhere made the pies and sent messages of support to Jennie on Twitter.  The tweets were compiled into this video:


Peanut Butter Pie for Mikey from Evolution Multimedia on Vimeo.

Now, I obviously missed the opportunity to bake my pie on Friday.  But, as my friend Melisa pointed out, it's never to late to think about a grieving family.  So, I told Melisa that she and I would start Phase II of The Peanut Butter Pie Movement.

Here's my pie:

Here's my pie with a slice taken out:

Will you help spread the movement by making a pie of your own?  Here's the recipe:

Creamy Peanut Butter Pie
Serves 10 to 12
8 ounces chocolate cookies
4 tablespoons butter, melted
4 ounces finely chopped chocolate or semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/4 cup chopped peanuts
1 cup heavy cream
8 ounces cream cheese
1 cup creamy-style peanut butter
1 cup confectioner's sugar
1 – 14 ounce can sweetened condensed milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

Add the cookies to the bowl of a food processor and pulse into fine crumbs.  Combine melted butter and cookie crumbs in a small bowl, and stir with a fork to mix well.  Press mixture into the bottom and 1-inch up the sides of a 9-inch springform pan.

Melt the chocolate in a double boiler or in the microwave.  Pour over bottom of cookie crust and spread to the edges using an off-set spatula.  Sprinkle chopped peanuts over the melted chocolate. Place pan in the refrigerator while you prepare the filling.

Pour the heavy cream into a bowl and beat using a stand mixer or hand mixer until stiff peaks form.  Transfer to a small bowl and store in refrigerator until ready to use.  Place the cream cheese and peanut butter in a deep bowl.  Beat on medium speed until light and fluffy.  Reduce speed to low and gradually beat in the confectioner's sugar.  Add the sweetened condensed milk, vanilla extract and lemon juice. Increase speed to medium and beat until all the ingredients are combined and filling is smooth.

Stir in 1/3 of the whipped cream into the filling mixture (helps lighten the batter, making it easier to fold in the remaining whipped cream).  Fold in the remaining whipped cream.  Pour the filling into the prepared springform pan.  Refrigerate for three hours or overnight before serving.



-----------
A personal note on this recipe: I skipped the chocolate cookies and butter and instead just bought a pre-made Oreo crust.  The Oreo crust is a little bit smaller than the pan Jennie recommends, which means you will have less surface area to pour in the melted chocolate at the bottom.  Therefore, if you do use a premade crust and/or smaller pan, you might want to reduce the amount of melted chocolate you use.  Otherwise you will end up with a thick, hard layer that it very difficult to cut into with a fork. 

Oh, and the pie is very, very rich.  Enjoy in moderation.

Jennie also asked that you take the time to share the pie with somebody you love, and to remember that today is the only day you are guaranteed to have with your loved ones.

I shared the pie with the loved ones in my home, of course, but I also made a second pie for my friend Sarah.  Sarah and I have both been busy lately, and we haven't seen each other much.  But, as Jennie illustrates, you should make time for family and friends today.  So I made my good friend Sarah a pie. 

And I keep the Perillo family in my thoughts. 

SuperIma Sunday Check-In: Ye Olde Renaissance Edition

I got free tickets to the Bristol Renaissance Faire in my gift bag at the launch party for Melisa's book, and today Katie is joining us to nerd it up at the faire!  

(And now I have broken my own personal record for the most hyperlinks in one sentence.)

Anyway, Katie and I both hail from families of Renaissance Faire devotees.  My dad and stepmom took my brother and me almost annually to the faire in Southern California.  We had particular items in our "must-eat" list: giant pickles, cinnamon rolls, and the Italian ice served in a hollowed-out orange peel ("this is part of your heritage, kids," my dad would say).  One time we brought our dog, and one of the faire employees said, "Arr, that be a fyne pig."  And one year I couldn't go because of my busy schedule of youth enrichment activities, but my brother brought me back an apple-head doll.  Yay, apple-head dolls!

Katie says her family's must-haves at their Renaissance Faire were the giant turkey legs and soup in a bread bowl. 

We would like to point out that we were not such Ren Faire geeks that we owned costumes or anything like that.  I, for one, did not have the boobs to pull off one of those peasanty-type tops that show ample cleavage to the point that you're going to pop out. 

Anyway, I gotta make this quick because we have to get ready to leave. 

As you know, I didn't have any SuperIma goals or plans last week, because I was checking in from the airport and I had no idea what state the house would be in when I got home.  As you also know, because you better be reading every last word I write, the house was relatively clean upon my return. 

So, the week went pretty smoothly, minor jet lag and PMS notwithstanding.

And so another week begins. 

This week I want to seriously make progress on my office remodel.  And do some other stuff for myself, and ... you know what?  For time purposes, let me just bullet point it.  This week I want to:

• Assemble the desk and coffee table I purchased.  (No, the desk is not a roll-top.  I gave up on that and just got a cheap desk at Target.  It has a matching coffee table that can nest under it for when guests come to sleep in that room, although I told Nathan the coffee table was a little desk for him.  I'm hoping that will open up the option of him doing something at the "desk" when I need to get work done, although that might have been a mistake because there goes any chance of ever being alone in there.  But I think I gave up any chance of ever being alone on February 28, 2007.)  
• Frame the two cat pictures my stepmom bought me at an art fair we went to.  Put up all artwork in office, assuming the Jacqueline Kennedy one is done being framed. (Sorry, I know this is so boring for you.)
• Repaint the dresser.
• Get the bed/mattress out of there.

In non-office news:

• Go to the gym M-F.
• For the love of God, finish one single solitary measly book, because for crying out loud, I have only like 200 pages to go in the one I've been reading for over a week, and it's Young Adult.  
• Make two meals using something I already have in the freezer.  

Okay, now go check in with Original-and-Still-the-Best SuperIma, Leigh Ann!

Using Crazy Glue to Stick it to the Man

When Ashley and I were college roommates, we had sort of a running gag about people who preferred to support the local mom 'n pop business over "The Man." At the time, the first Starbucks store was opening up in the small college town near our school, and many students refused to frequent The Man's coffee shop because it might take business away from the local coffee joints.

The thing is, I preferred The Man's coffee drinks. So sometimes I support The Man.

Sometimes, though, I want to stick it to The Man. I'm not going to name names, but The Man's establishment where we bought our refrigerator and dishwasher was a particularly unpleasant conglomerate to do business with. The refrigerator came fine, but with the dishwasher we had all kinds of trouble. The order got lost in the system. The delivery man came with the means to install the dishwasher, but with no dishwasher. Then the store had no way of figuring out how to enter data into the computer to indicate that we wanted both a dishwasher and an installation of a dishwasher. Then they charged us twice, but were unable to issue a refund in the store because refunds for products that require installation have to come from the home services division, not the retail division.

Eventually we did get the dishwasher. That was a little over a year ago. (A year being the warranty period.) The dishwasher has already required one repair, although I attribute that to my general tendency to abuse appliances, and not to shoddy craftmanship.

I also blame my abuse for a recent problem with the refrigerator. Some sort of gross sticky goo seeped down from one of the shelves and settled under the very bottom drawer in the refrigerator. The drawer got stuck in the goo, and I of course pulled with all my might to get it out.

The drawer got cracked in the process. I pulled it out. I cleaned the goo, using my time-tested technique of hot water, Goo Gone, and a metal spatula that I think is intended for serving lasagna.

But I still had a cracked drawer. I took the following blurry cell phone picture to document the damage:

Leaving a gap in the fridge that looked like this:

It's the goo-free meat cubby!

I called the 800 number of the man's establishment where we bought the refrigerator, in an attempt to order a new drawer.  I felt all smug because I was actually taking care of a household repair within 24 hours of the item's breakage.  The man on the phone determined the part number and found the part in the computer.  The replacement drawer was going to cost $111.


One hundred eleven dollars.

Now, the thing is, the entire refrigerator cost $1,000.  Are you trying to tell me that this empty plastic drawer accounts for 10% of the materials in the refrigerator?  I counted, and the fridge has 3 drawers, 10 shelves, and 7 little bins, not to mention the complicated inner workings that make the refrigerator cold enough to refrigerate things.  That materials that make up that one drawer clearly account for a very small fraction of the overall value of the refrigerator. 

That drawer is not worth $100 unless it comes with at least a week's worth of groceries in it.

So, I decided to fix my own drawer and stick it to The Man.

Get it?  Glue?  Stick it? 

Whoa, tough crowd.

So, Bill bought a $3 container of Crazy Glue.  Ten minutes, several sticky fingers, a ruined manicure, and a minor family squabble later, and the drawer looks like this:

Okay, it looks like crap.  But it does stick together.  And I saved $108. 

Except this project did temporarily cost me my sanity.

And now The Man is laughing at me. 

The Great Plan

"Man plans, God laughs."
--Yiddish proverb

"Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men's blood and probably will not themselves be realized."
--Daniel Burnham, Chicago Architectural Wizard

"What the hell are we doing this fall?"
--Shannon Ford, Bewildered Midwestern Housewife Schlub/Occasional Math Book Editor

------------------

You know what I like even more than office supplies? 

Making plans! 

And I don't just enjoy making fun plans.  I enjoy making all plans.

To plan is to suggest that you have some level of control over the future.  This sense of control is a completely false perception, of course.  Hence, "Man plans, God laughs." 

But it's nice to think that with the right plan in place, all the unknowns of the future will miraculously work out.  Having the right plan means having it all figured out. 

I imagine a world where life always runs smoothly, because I have scheduled and organized everything perfectly.  There will be no last-minute runs to Target to buy the birthday present on the way to the party, no mornings where I have to eat my breakfast in the car, no ordering pizza because it just now occurred to me this would be one of those nights where we'd have to eat dinner. 

I don't know if it's possible to plan your life so well that you're never stressed out by some last-minute unforeseen occurrence.  I also don't know if I have the discipline to plan, schedule, and organize my life to such a degree that I'm never caught off guard.  There are people who can.  My friend Sarah can.  I can't.

But I do like to have some basic idea of what we're going to be doing in the near future.  Which is why I've had a constant feeling of mild panic operating in the back of my mind lately.

I haven't gotten the fall figured out. 

Basically what it boils down to is the following completely uninteresting situation:

See, I signed Nathan up for Tuesday/Thursday preschool again.  We were used to that schedule, and I figured I'd give us one more year to get Nathan's not-a-morning-person self in gear before having to go to school five days a week.  So, Tuesday/Thursday it was.  But then everybody and her sister started telling me how inadequately prepared Nathan would be for kindergarten if he didn't go to preschool at least three days a week. 

Now, you know I'm generally not worried about preparing him for kindergarten.  But you also know that I let other people's comments get to me.  So after the thousandth person told me I was ruining my kid's life by putting him in Tuesday/Thursday preschool again, I inquired about the Monday/Wednesday/Friday program.  But by then we had to be on the wait list.  We are #3 on the wait list. 

A slight further complication is that they have this new Monday/Wednesday/Friday afternoon class they're allegedly opening up, except that each time I have asked about it, I have been told that nobody has signed up for it.  Figuring that I don't want to pay my deposit and commit to anything until I'm sure the class won't get canceled, I haven't signed up.  And I'm sure that I'm not the only parent who is waiting it out to see if somebody else signs up first.  It's like we're all playing one big, boring, pointless game of chicken.  

So, I have no idea what my kid's school schedule is going to be for the fall.  Which is a problem because it has recently come to my attention that I need to get some additional form of childcare for him so that I can do my work and take care of other work-like commitments.  And by "work-like commitments" I'm not talking about my laundry or going to the grocery store, since I don't want to think of myself as some sort of professional laundress or grocery-procurer.  I'm referring instead to tasks like completing the play script I promised I'd turn in by October, writing various unpaid online posts/articles/whatever, and attempting to secure more freelance work.  Although sometimes it's awfully nice to have a babysitter watch my kid while I go to the grocery store, too. 

Anyway, not knowing what days he'll have preschool = not knowing what days he'll need a babysitter = advanced level of stress and anxiety for me.

I couldn't take the uncertainty anymore, so I made a decision.  Kindergarten preparation be damned, we are going with Tuesday/Thursday preschool again, no matter what happens with that waitlist.  And I got a babysitter for Nathan Monday and Wednesday mornings.  I still won't know what my work schedule will be, or even if I'll have work at all come fall, but at least I'll have some form of childcare in place for most days, should work suddenly show up in my inbox.  

Now please keep your fingers crossed for me that I have enough work to justify the cost and guilt of having this much paid childcare.

(The guilt is not because I think paid childcare is bad.  The guilt would be if I were dumping my kid on a caregiver while I didn't have any work to do.  And I know you want to argue that I shouldn't feel guilty.  But, let's face it, most moms do.) 

I do think it is better for Nathan to have a paid babysitter come and constructively entertain him while I'm working, because too often (not all the time, but too often) I resort to screen-based entertainment for him when I need to get work done.  Wouldn't it be better to have a babysitter who can take him to the park or play a board game with him? 

So, plan in place, I have begun to imagine that I could have the most organized, predictable, boring life ever come fall.  I love boring and predictable. 

We'll basically have the same morning schedule Monday through Thursday, and I like to think that means we can organize the rest of the day around this schedule.  At noon we'll have lunch and quiet time, and then we'll have another block of time from 2:00 to 4:30.  Then dinner, and bedtime rituals, and Nathan will go to bed at the same time and get up at the same time and ...

Oh, it will all be so perfect.

And now I'm bursting with a sense of total control over my life.  I love the change of seasons and the new opportunities that each new season brings, especially the return to structure that comes with fall. 

We will get our lives in order.  

Don't tell me it can't be done.  I don't want to hear it.  You see this?  This is my bubble:

  Don't burst it.

Oh, Why Hello There, Mr. Blog

The fact that I haven't gotten around to updating my blog for two days is sort of indicative of the general theme of my life this week, which can be summed up in a one-word question:

When? 

When, seriously, am I supposed to have time to do all this stuff?  I want to go through my BlogHer swag and find all the PR reps' email addresses so I can write to the companies I like and see if they'll give me something for a blog giveaway.  I want to clean out my basement.  I want to get back to my office remodel.  I want to go out and look for more work, and take my kid on fun outings, and read books. 

But it seems like when I get through the paying work that has immediate deadlines, and the basic life-sustaining tasks like cooking and laundry, and the occasional exercise activity, I don't have any time left to do any of that stuff. 

I look at other blogs and the people seem to somehow have time to write their blogs, find sponsors, tweet endlessly, read books, write articles for money, take beautiful photographs, and never shirk their mothering responsibilities to what always seems like at least 4 kids. 

I'm copying a little bit of this thinking from a recent post written by my new blog friend Maria, wherein she asked how it is that all these professional mom bloggers seem to always have time to raise their multiple children, make healthy from-scratch meals, do clever crafty things, and still write their blogs. 

I honestly don't know, Maria.  Maybe they give up sleep. 

As for me, I'm not willing to give up sleep, and so it seems between all the must-do's of the day, and stupid idiocy like having to field calls for somebody named Sylvia who apparently used to have this number or a number similar to it, and making a separate dinner for each person in my family ... I just run out of time.  And I do admit to spending a few minutes here and there on Facebook or sending recreational emails, but I don't think I'm online half as much as some of these hyper-tweeting bloggers who seem to have blog posts up everywhere. 

I wrote this whole post from the bathroom (sitting on the toilet, but with the lid down, I swear) while Nathan takes a bath.  And I kind of let him get away with way too much splashing, so the entirety of the bathroom is wet.  Because those are the kinds of sacrifices I'm willing to make to find the time to put this high-quality drivel on the Internet for you. 

But I'm gonna quit while my laptop is still dry.  Until tomorrow ... or maybe the day after that ...

Random Photos and Probing Questions

This is the last thing I'm going to say about BlogHer, I promise.  But I found a few more pictures that I never posted here, and I figured it would be a shame to let them go to waste.  And since I didn't want to just post pictures, I came up with some random text to intersperse among the photos. 

Here's where the text comes from: At the BlogHer Community Keynote, emcee Eden Kennedy introduced each speaker by giving that speaker's answers to four questions that were asked in advance.  The questions were:


1. What is something your readers don't know about you?
2. What is a recent accomplishment you're proud of?
3. When you were a kid, what did you look forward to?
4. Is there anything else interesting you want to share about yourself?  

I will answer these questions, and post my pictures throughout, starting ... NOW.

1. What is something your readers don't know about you?
I am afraid to drive on bridges.  I will drive over a bridge if necessary, but my anxiety is at Level 10 when I do.  Another thing I'm afraid of is pools deeper than 12 feet.  Obviously this phobia makes no sense, because I think I'm a fairly competent swimmer, but I won't go in a pool deeper than 12 feet. 

And now, a photo:

Totally ignore the fact that I look fat and/or pregnant in this photo.  Fat, yes.  Pregnant, NO.  Anyway, this is a photo of me at the Sparklecorn party with a cardboard cutout of Dr. Who, which is one of Bill's favorite shows.  This is actually Dr. Who in his last incarnation, because he's now played by a new (uglier) actor.  In all, there have been 11 doctors.  I know, it's weird. 

2. What is a recent accomplishment you're proud of?

I am proud of the way I've recently gotten back into my career.  I'm proud of the way I'm sticking my neck out to get more work.  And I hope, in the near future, to say I'm proud of having repainted a dresser, which will be my very first furniture rehabbing project.  

Next picture:

This is the cake they had at Sparklecorn.  It was by far the coolest cake I've ever seen live and in person.  I didn't eat any of it.  

 Here's a self-portrait of me decorated in glow tubes from Sparklecorn.

3. When you were a kid, what did you look forward to?

I looked forward to being able to drive, so I could go through the McDonald's drive-thru whenever I wanted, specifically to buy Coca-Cola.  Sadly, I still look forward to going to the McDonald's drive-thru, although in my older age I have switched to Diet Coke.  

Okay, so this next picture is really random (and blurry).  I took it just now as I was sorting through my BlogHer swag.  See, a lot of companies give you their press kit information on a flash drive (jump drive, thumbnail drive, whatever), so as to save paper and printing costs.  Sometimes the flash drives are on lanyards, sometimes they're keychains, and sometimes they're built into plastic cards.  But far and away the absolutely cutest flash drive came from the Yankee Candle people:

It's a flash drive that looks like a tiny jar candle!  I snuck in and took an extra one.

In exchange for the extra flash drive, I'll do a little pitch for Yankee and show you guys the adorable vintage-inspired candle collection they have coming out for the holidays:

 This picture was on the flash drive.

4. Is there anything else interesting you want to share about yourself?

I can say the alphabet backwards.  And I went to elementary school with the kid who played Urkel.  And speaking of brushes with greatness, I met a woman at the conference who I found out (after the fact) was a guest star on Seinfeld.  Last night I watched the episode she was on (Season 7's "The Friar's Club") and she played Kramer's girlfriend.   

My last picture is a picture I took of a greeting card the Hallmark people gave us.  I know I should have scanned it, but the computer with the scanner was occupied.

So true.