Weight Loss, Guy-Style

Sigh  - remember way back when, when I was so excited about my new job?  You know, the whole set-your-own-hours, work-from-home thing?  Well, it's a lot less exciting near the end of the contract period when I realize that maybe - just maybe - I haven't been setting enough hours.

Yeah.

So, as the clock runs down, I've been working extra this past month, with little to no time left over for my precious blogging (which pastime, as Larry keeps reminding me, does not provide much in the way of financial remuneration - as opposed to, say, MY JOB).

I miss you.  All of you. 

To add insult to my wage-slave misery, Larry made an announcement today:

Cute, isn't he?  Unlike Larry...

L: I've lost 3 pounds this week!

Me:

L: Isn't that great?

Me:

L: What?

One wonders where Larry has been the last 5 years; apparently he wasn't in residence as I assiduously lost the same 20 pounds over and over again, counting points, taking walks in order to earn a lousy apple, weighing in week after week after humiliating week.  How did Larry lose his 3 pounds?  Why, he used a rowing machine for a bit each morning...just came right off!  Isn't that great?

Sometimes, I wonder why I married a guy.

[Homer picture: PETA]
[Baby picture: PSAW India]

Desperate Husband

For further proof that my husband will do absolutely anything to get away from me, Larry is off on a 2-night Boy Scout camping trip with David.  It's 15 degrees out, people.  He called me this afternoon and tried to act as though things were going just great.  "We're having grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches right now!" he said, in the falsely cheerful tone usually reserved for ICU visits.

"Well," I said, trying to play along, "at least you don't have to worry about keeping the food cold."

"Actually, we had to put the food in the coolers just to warm it up."

Okay, that's COLD.


[Image credit: TerraDaily]

Sled No Evil

While the rest of the country has been inundated with monster snowstorms, all  we've gotten in our neck of the woods is an inch or so of snow, or sometimes just a coating of ice.  Disappointing? Not if, like us, you're so desperate for winter fun that you'll settle for anything that vaguely resembles winter fun.  As a result, the iced-over grass slope in front of our townhouse  has become the sled run of choice for the neighborhood children (including mine).

The other day I had just poked my head out the door to make sure none of my children had gone missing when a neighbor - out walking with her young child  - spotted them.  "Don't you worry about their hitting that brick wall at the bottom?" she asked me, as they careened crazily towards said wall, with only 2 pathetic boxwood bushes in place to cushion the blow.

"Oh, definitely," I said, as I turned to go into the house.  "So I make sure not to watch."

There's one more neighbor who won't be pestering me for child-rearing advice any time soon...


 [Image credit: lucfblog]

Blood Libel

Ha, ha - just kidding!  No politics here!

The nice man who is replacing (for free!) my broken window was due to show up today.  Which normally wouldn't have required any work on my part, except the broken window happened to be in my bedroom.  You know, the bedroom where we threw all the junk in our house in preparation for our New Year's festivities?  On top of all the other junk that has accumulated there?

[Jenn, I know you don't understand that scenario at all.  Just bear with me and the 10's of kindred disorganized spirits who read this blog.]

So!  In between keeping up with the current national dialogue on gun control  and the new Facebook profile (because I am a woman of wide and varied interests) ,

(or shallow)

(whatever)

I have been delving into the mess in my master bedroom, in a quixotic attempt to restore order amongst the knitting supplies and last year's files and the boxes of photos that I ordered 2 years ago before I realized that, really, it's just easier to keep everything digital.

(*forehead smack*)

I am proud to report success - my bedroom looks fantastic!  But this victory, alas, was bought at a price :  my walk-in closet....isn't.  In fact, I can barely get its door open.  In the spirit of a move towards a more civil national discourse, I will refrain from blaming conservative rhetoric or too-lax gun laws for that situation.

Mark Zuckerman is still fair game, however.




[Repairman image credit: Inkity]
[Closet image credit: timesunion.com]

2011 - Year of the Legos

Does that look like the future to anyone else?  2011 - It blows my mind.

Oh, and that particular New Year's greeting was created by Brian, who dreams in Legos...

Tevye, We Hardly Knew Ye

Fiddler on the Roof like you've never seen it before....

That rabbi is something else.

Mousal Abandonment

Larry left me again.  Until Thursday, anyway.  Maybe it's because I woke him up on New Year's night to announce that I heard a mouse in our bedroom.

Let's dwell on that for a minute:

A MOUSE

IN OUR BEDROOM

Unfortunately, we had just hosted our New Year's Day party for the neighborhood.  Meaning, almost every single thing we own had been thrown into our bedroom in our typical pre-party cleaning frenzy.  It's like sleeping in the attic, only less cozy.  So! The odds of our finding the errant rodent amidst that clutter were practically nil.  Needle in a haystack and all that - although it was a very noisy needle, I must say.

Not that Larry didn't give it the old college try, mind you.  He jumped out of bed (but only after ascertaining that that rustling-paper sound was not merely a figment of my imagination), flicked on the overhead light and commenced crawling around our piles of junk in a futile effort to locate noisy old Mickey.  Considering he was wearing only underwear, this would have been a photo-worthy moment; but the camera was downstairs, and the mouse lay somewhere between me and the bedroom door.  A Pulitzer-Prize winning opportunity lost, I'm telling you...

He didn't find it.  So, being male, Larry shrugged his shoulders, turned off the light, and went back to bed.  Within minutes, he was snoring soundly while I lay wide awake, calculating the odds of my tripping over the mouse as I dashed out the bedroom door to the (theoretically) rodent-free safety of our living room couch.

This is Larry, only he didn't have any doughnuts.

Reader, I risked it.  I ran all the way downstairs, where I belatedly realized I needed a blanket.  I made a lot of noise going back to the bedroom and grabbing that blanket, though, just to let Larry know he had no right to be happily a-slumber while I was forced to evacuate (twice!) our rodent-ridden room.  Actually, I think I took his blanket.  It felt like the right thing to do.



[Mouse photo credit: mus-musculus.com]

[Homer Simpson image: the jailbreak.com]