Apr 17

I brake for recipes

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I’ve been cooking more again. Like working out, I kind of just stop doing it for a while, then get back to it, and despite the pain and suffering (in kitchen and working out) I really love it, once I get started. Besides that, I’ve got an activity monitor on, now. As it turns out, standing up and moving around burns more calories than sitting and watching reruns of mind-numbing Disney shows with the kids. Besides, I can watch said silly shows while cooking and chopping anyways.

Sometimes I get a little worked up in my cooking/chopping. The other night, I hammered my thumb with a giant knife while finely chopping lettuce for Taco Tuesday. With my callused dry fingers, the cut simply sliced off several layers of thick dead skin. My thumb is still attached to my body, but I did a doozy on my finger nail. I opted out of the lettuce for dinner that night. But I served it everyone else anyway.

On occasion, I find myself falling in love with dishes and remaking them over and over. This one, I found through the Ultimate Reset Beach Body Diet. The diet sucks. I think what they mean by “Beach Body Diet” is that it’s only for you if you’re looking to lose 5 pounds in a few weeks. Isn’t that adorable?

Still, this salad is amazing. It’s refreshing, and so good for you. I’m not a big fan of salads, especially for meals. I make a big batch of this on Sunday and take it to work for lunch every day. Usually I eat something else with it – soup, or some other left over in the house like tacos without lettuce…

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Microgreen Salad (From the Ultimate Reset Beach Body Diet) *Not-Beach Body peeps can make it too. I do every day.

Finely chop 1/4 of a cup all of the following and mix into a bowl. It makes one serving. I make 5 servings in one giant salad and then split it up.

  • Red Bell Pepper
  • Alfalfa Sprouts – I roughly chop them up pretty good, they mix better in the salad.
  • Carrots
  • Cucumber
  • Tomato – I quarter cherry tomatoes
  • Jicama – It’s pronounced : Hick Uh Muh. And it’s good. Don’t let the waxy turnip looking stump fool you. Cut all the skin and wax off and chop up the white goodness. It’s like a water chestnut but better. Just try it.
  • Cilantro, Parsley, or Basil. – I’m a fan of cilantro. You either love it or hate it, so I gave you other options. but if you don’t use cilantro, my version is better than yours. Just sayin.

Sprinkle a tablespoon of sunflower seeds or pepitas over it.

Mix all that up and then pour over this basic delightful dressing:

  • Olive Oil
  • A squeeze of lemon -if you’re feeling totally adventurous, hit it with some zest of the lemon.
  • Red Wine Vinegar
  • Salt & Pepper -the condiments not the band. And besides, that was Salt & Peppa anyway.

I didn’t give you measurements for the dressing because I eyeball it. If it’s just for one serving, maybe a teaspoon of the oil and vinegar. I dunno. When I make a big batch, I use about a 1/4 cup of oil and vinegar. The longer the veggies marinade in that dressing, the better.

If you try this recipe, let me know if you loved it or hated it or if you wounded yourself in the chopping of this creation.

Song of the Day: Couldn’t resist being so trite: Recipe for Love by Harry Connick Jr.

Pssst: That’s totally how my hands fly in the kitchen – like his on the piano. And then when I’m all done, I serve dinner like he does when he gets up from the piano. And I sing it to the kids. My singing offsets their bad attitude toward the food. So, it’s win-win. SUCKERS!!!

 

Apr 11

Happy Friday, No. 54

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So, this is what greenery and flowers look like. There’s hope and rumor that one day, Spring will return.

Thank you Jacki Dowling for your extraordinary gift to share the inspiring moments as well as the hard times that also spark inspiration and hope in so many of us. By you sharing your and Bill’s story, you give us the gifts of understanding, gratitude, grace and true love.

The more I read this article - the cooler the story gets. I can’t imagine how daunting it must be to hesitantly accept a gift of a trip, but then all the other details that weigh on your mind with a situation like this. It probably comes across as ungrateful. In Captain Bill’s case, the ride there is tricky, but there’s so much more. Whoever these donors are, and whoever came up with every detail organized right down to the hospital bed in the hotel room, God Bless each and every one of you.

Captain Dowling was a previous inspiration of Happy News at Mom On The Rocks. I’m guessing there will be more to follow. Follow Jacki’s inspiring and down to earth posts here.

For more information on how you can help the Dowling Family – please click here.

Song of the Day: Knowing just a fraction of the Dowling’s story – this song makes me weep, and then go hug my family.

Apr 10

My official job incident report

photo-4When I was hired for this job, I was told all I had to do was answer the phones, and some light office duties. My sell was I had a blog, and so I MUST have some digital age skills. (Wink, Wink, Cheshire Cat grin.) I forgot to mention the part where I’m clumsy, I bleed a lot and easily, and I’m a bit accident prone. 

I have been working on welcoming change at my job at the church. If it were up to me, I’d do the same routine everyday. Eventually I’d get good at it. Learning something new for me, as seen in college, volleyball, parenting, cooking…. takes me a ridiculous amount of repetition to actually get something close to right. I mean to really grasp the concept. Throw in technology and my fellow church community depending on me and I’m done for. So, I’ve been learning the process of our church newsletter for several months. Maybe a year by now.

Coordinating a church newsletter, and every single submission missing their deadline  is pretty much the easy part. Let’s get real, here. I can’t point fingers because I don’t have that many. Besides, we’re in the God business. People dying, sick folks, prayers, needs, petty stuff like that takes priority over newsletter deadlines. Or so I’m told.

Getting the newsletter edited and approved is a bit of a hassle, but I’m down with effective communication and all, so we get through it. Printing the newsletter might be my favorite part. I like the tangible action of getting it done. Next is getting volunteers in to stuff, fold, tab, and label the newsletters. That’s my favorite part because it’s fun to have the volunteers in the office willing to help and they’re just fun anyway, so it’s fun to hang out with them.

The sucky part that I still have a hard time learning is all the technical stuff. First I have to get the labels printed. I have a step-by-step list of how to navigate the database. Think green screen. One false move of a key stroke, and there’s no going back. I get a little baffled. When the labels are all done, I also program the digital version of the newsletter to be emailed out. That’s a little more Leslie-proof, but not much.

And finally, to mail out all the newsletters that are not emailed, I navigate one more programming piece – scheduling the bulk mail. That’s on the USPS website and it involves math and code. Blech. Sigh. For the love of my church, and also for the security of my job, I’ll do it. The issues are me and my skewed learning curve, and the fact that it’s only once a month that I’m doing this repetition. I’ve been trying to do this stuff on my own. It’s inevitable that I depend way too much on my fellow co-worker trying desperately to pass this one off, as she’s about to leave this job. Somehow she managed to be gone on the days I needed to program the labels, the email blast, and the scheduling of the bulk mail.

Call it Godly intervention, or the power of prayer, for the good of others, somehow, I got it all done. You are welcome newsletter reading universe. I did it, all by myself – no co-dependency. Totally independent and despite my own professional hang ups, I did it. Somebody’s picking up on new learning skills: This girl! Once it’s all done, I take the newsletter to the post office on the scheduled day to go out.L ike printing the newsletter, the trip to the post office is an easy and tangible task. I grab the carton of newsletters and head out to my car.

And then the most extraordinary 20 seconds happened.

As I approach my car, I realize I can’t set the carton of mail down because it’s the windiest day ever in Omaha.  If I set the shallow carton down to open the car door, the bulk mail order form and all the newsletters (organized by zip code as required by the US Postal Service) will be delivered by extraordinary airmail. An act of God if you will. It turns out our members really want to read their newsletters.

I opt to use what I got and shimmy up a hip and a raised knee to balance the box while opening the car door. But these hips don’t lie and they tripped up the carton. Like, the whole carton of 250 newsletters. They all drop to the ground. I drop the entire box of newsletters. All of them. They did not land in zip code  order, as it turns out.  At current, Omaha is in a “wind advisory alert” with wind gusts up to 40 mph.

Newsletters fly everywhere.

I drop down to some sort of 40-year-old volleyball stance (it’s a bit different than a younger volleyball stance. Trust me on this one, America.) and use my now empty box to cover the majority of the newsletters at my feet so that they don’t blow away. I start grabbing newsletters from under the box and off the ground, shoveling them into my car.  I’m assessing that I can’t go to the post office, I’ll have to take these home and re-organize them by zip code.  I grabbed as many as I could and then noticed bright fresh blood on my newsletters. Where the hell is the blood coming from? Is this an updated story from the book of Revelations?

I have either paper cuts or cuts from my fingers scraping the asphalt when I pick up each newsletter. I lick my fingers, go to pick up more, and then realize I’m bleeding on another finger. Now I’m vampiring it, licking the blood so I can grab more newsletters that are kind of strewn all over Pacific Street. Because bloody finger prints weren’t in the design for this particular newsletter. Four fingers bleeding. And they’re the necessary ones – thumbs, an index finger and I think maybe a ring finger but I just really don’t have the time to assess the details. Some of these look like they’ve been sent from a murder scene. I’m a bleeder. I’ll have to send it tomorrow after I re-organize them and probably reprint a few with blood on them.

I’m not sure if I’m impressed with myself on the quick thinking to lay myself and the empty mail carton over the newsletter pile or if I’m impressed with God and Karma and Mother Nature because in the mere  seconds that I jumped down to protect the mail from the wind – my knee must have hit the lock button on my key fab pretty perfectly. Then the wind shut my door, but only after I threw my lunch bag, my satchel and my keys in the car. Once I got the majority of them in the car I went around to get the ones that flew away under my and a minister’s car. That must be when the car door shut with my keys inside.

Thankfully I had my purse still attached to my body which contained my cell phone and my office keys. I walk back into the church and find one of my favorite co-workers still at her desk. I’m bleeding and my hair is dissheveled in it’s natural state, but the wind has had an impact as well. I’m pretty sure my new stupid mascara is running down my face because did I mention it’s windy out? Wind makes my eyes water.  Said co-worker and pal looks up when I say,

“I’m not sure I can put into words what just happened in such a small amount of time.”

Well now she thinks I just got mugged. Close. But no, I did this all on my own. It’s as if I just mugged myself, realized I had no money and ran. I explain as best I can and then go to call Ricardo to come pick me up. I’m pretty sure this is my explanation to him, “I was carrying out the newsletters, and then there was wind, and I’m bleeding, and HOLY SHIT, the kids! Can you go pick up the kids at school!?”

Ricardo just says yes to everything. The guy knows me. Shit like this happens all the time. It’s like he’s married to I LOVE LUCY, and it’s pretty funny to everyone except him. He’s kind of like Batman, Just sits around and waits for the BatSignal.  If I’m able to form odd sentences and dial him, he knows I’m okay. He picks the kids up from school, and comes to my rescue…again.

I come back to the office the next day and re-organize the newsletter mail out. A fellow co-worker walks in and makes the mistake of asking what the heck happened. So I tell her. She hasn’t made eye contact with me since. I count 20 bloody newsletters. I poll the staff and all disagree with me that my blood on their newsletters will be a fantastic marketing tool. I mean, it is the season of Lent after all. Sigh. Fine. I reprint fresh newsletters and hand write addresses because I’m not about to go back to the green screen and print out labels. What code is that anyways for 20 bloody newsletters?

The newsletter went out a day late. Everyone is okay. My sweet (liable) boss has asked me twice if I’m okay and to fill out an incident report. So, here it is. File it somewhere. I’m betting the insurance company just stops and prays on me. Because really, sometimes, that’s just all you can do. Or laugh. Feel free to do either at my expense. I sure have.

Song of the day:

Apr 04

Happy Friday, No. 53

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Today’s Happy Friday is part of this week’s major holiday event (at my house at least) April Fool’s Day. My kids researched and worked so hard to do some fun pranks. I had no idea how intensely committed to the project of April Fool’s Day they’d be. By the end of it, we were trying to help them out.

So, here’s the most inspiring April Fool’s Prank I’ve ever seen. I think this is how April Fool’s (or anyday) pranks should go. And also, this tearless soul bawls every time I watch this. So get your tissues. And prepare to defend your muffled gasps and sniffles in your cubicle.

 

Song of the day: Just for fun – Pete Bjorn covers Try a Little Tenderness by the great Otis Redding

 

 

 

Mar 31

Why I recycle my SELF magazine. And why I’ll keep doing it.

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Recycled SELF.

Last week, all social media hell broke out over SELF Magazine being jackwagons to a girl who’s picture they ran. As a struggling runner, I was infuriated by it. Basically someone at SELF asked to publish a picture of a girl running in a tutu. Girl got excited because maybe her charity would get some coverage somehow. Girl opens up magazine and finds her picture used in the BS Meter section of the magazine. Funny, when SELF magazine called to ask her permission to use the photo, they failed to mention it was in an effort to shun the woman. Let’s not even mention the part where this silly girl in the tutu has brain cancer and was RUNNING A FRIKKIN MARATHON you know- to get her mind off of things. While she’s doing all that, oh yeah, and she makes and sells the tutus and started a charity to inspire girls to run.

Forgot that little nugget. I’m just curious, if you can track down someone who’s picture you snapped for permission to degrade them in a public forum, if you can get her email, I’m guessing someone mentioned her story. If you can get the information to contact someone, it might be a good idea to get the information on WHO you’re contacting.

So, in the time I’ve posted this, things seem to be resolved on both parties’ end. Apologies have been made and very graciously accepted. As a customer of this magazine, I’m still bugged.

Check out this video and story about SELF magazine and their epic fail.

This is SELF Magazine’s apology statement from their Facebook page:
“On behalf of SELF, we sincerely apologize for our inadvertent insensitivity. I have personally reached out to Monika and her supporters online to apologize for the misstep and tell them we are trying to remedy the situation. At SELF we support women such as Monika; she is an inspiration and embodies the qualities we admire. We have donated to her charity and have offered to cover her good work in a future issue. We wish her all the best on her road to good health.

Most sincerely,

Lucy Danziger”

I mean, “we’re sorry for our inadvertent insult” what? That was a direct and blatant insult. There was nothing inadvertent about it.  They literally emailed someone, directly targeted her, manipulated the situation and directly insulted her. The first fix in a situation in this is a good apology. And this one sucked – or in their own terms – was a “LAME” register on their BS Meter. Here’s how it should have gone, “We’re jerks who ran out of novel ideas for story topics so we took to starting a new negative low for a section where we try to highlight epic fails. But it turns out we ourselves are the epic fail.” Why would you have a BS meter for anyone or any level who’s giving any effort to exercise?

Next, SELF posted this - click here. And so, yes, they righted a little bit by simply saying they screwed up. I still take issue. Perhaps the bullying started not with this one particular fail as much as the BS Meter, itself. If you’re supportive of women being active then the only BS meter should be a monthly picture of the SELF magazine photoshopping editors sitting on the couch eating donuts. Period. Okay maybe they don’t eat donuts. I don’t know them. I’m sure they’re all nice people who struggle with the fact that they get paid to manipulate the standards of women and our bodies.

Every time I sign up for a race or triathlon, I get a free subscritption to a magazine.  Quite frankly, I’ve been recycling my Fitness and Self magazines as soon as I get them. First of all, ‘fitness’ magazines shouldn’t doctor fitness pics. It completely counters their mission statement to “empower women in fitness.” Also, I don’t want my daughter to see that. Secondly, every single tag on the cover is the same every single month: Lose 10 pounds in just one month, What to eat: the never diet again diet, Better sex and/or orgasms, and an alternating new routine for either abs or butts & thighs. I wish I could somehow prove that I wrote that previous sentence before I received my copy of this month’s magazine. But if you scroll back up, and look at the pic, you’ll see that my headline guesses are eerily accurate.

Thirdly, I don’t want my daughter to see any of that either. When she saw a magazine several months ago, she simply said, “They have the same headlines every month, Mom.”  I’m just glad she read the actual headings and missed the overtanned perfected by the power of a digital pen of a cover model.

“Good point,” was all I could muster. Do you know how timely and irritating it is to cancel a subscription?  So we recycle it. Which is how I missed the “BS METER” section. I haven’t read the magazine in months, maybe years.

As far as the BS Meter goes, I find most of SELF Magazine’s ads high on their own BS meter. There’s no pill to take to help me lose weight, and there’s no cream on the market that’s going to make me look like the digitally enhanced super models making the claim.

I could not be more empowered to recycle the damned magazine over this one incident. All I needed was a little push and confirmation. I’m off to go make myself a damned tutu.

Song of the day:

 

Mar 28

Happy News Friday, No. 52

It is with great excitement and gratitude that I give the news to you the WTAMU Lady Buffs are playing in the National Championship tonight! (CBS SPORTS at 6p.m.) Twenty years ago (gulp) I had the pleasure of being a part of the WT Lady Buff Basketball team.

“But Les, I thought you played volleyball?”

Let me explain. After picking splinters out of my butt from riding the bench so hard for three seasons of volleyball, I was in a rut. Again, it’s good to mention and that should be proof enough that I’m a slow learner. Meanwhile, the women’s basketball team had a rash of injuries – so many in fact, there was doubt as to whether they could even continue the season. So I mosied (because, after all I was in Texas) on over to the other side of The Box and offered my services – and by “services” I mean my height.I had a healthy body and I was tall. I couldn’t do much, but I could offer a body on the court.

My volleyball coach told me it was a risk and if I got injured playing basketball, she’d yank my volleyball scholarship. Then she gave me her blessing to do it anyway. My new basketball coach, the great Bob Schneider, wasn’t quite sure what to do with me. But he found my strengths, and a place on his team for me.

What I got out of  playing basketball that year was so much more than I could ever give. Playing basketball made be a better volleyball player. The next season of volleyball, I went from riding the pine to being a starting middle blocker. My basketball team shouting and cheering me on in the stands.

Tonight they play in the Women’s Division 2 National Championship. Clearly this team’s success is none of my doing. But I’m so excited for the team and the tradition of West Texas A&M Women’s Basketball! Let’s go Lady Buffs! Thank you for all that you did for me and so many beautiful strong women.

So tune in tonight for the best March Madness ever on CBS SPORTS at 6 p.m. Or leave a comment here and I’ll be sure to forward it on to them. And help me cheer on those Lady Buffs.

Song of the Day: WT Fight Song

Mar 24

My very own March Madness

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Last week I lost my frikkin mommy mind at the refs at a basketball game. There’s just a certain referee in any sport that seems to be taking money under the table. And then I realize that it’s an eleven year old game. Surely no money is exchanging hands. Then they make another bad call and I revisit the possibilities. Maybe it’s just exuding power, an ego boost, if you will, that’s a referree’s motivation. I thought it might be exercise. But one of the refs last week refused to jog or cover the whole court, making calls on the line from 30 feet away.

Still, I should not have lost my mommy wits that I swear I used to have. And also, it was not the refs fault Max’s team lost. I think at some point, we justify yelling at refs for sticking up for our kids. Later that day, I was embarrassed at how angry I was at a perfect stranger. I was upset with myself. It also happened to be the first beautiful and warm day we’ve had here in the great Midwest. So, I took Maybee on a nice long walk to clear my head, and apparently send the dog into shock as to how out of shape we both were. The good news is I’m in better shape than the dog.

It was on the walk that I remembered what Chaja Verveer, a Holocaust survivor and recent speaker for the Institute for Holocaust Education, had said (Paraphrased): “Stop calling people ‘them’. We have to stop being mad at ‘them’. When we call people ‘them’ or ‘they’ that takes away from the fact that we’re all human beings with hearts and feelings.”

The most personal I got with this ref is that I might have also referred to him as “Stripes.” Or to differentiate, there was a tall ref and a shorter ref.

I made amends with myself and then sure enough as if God has her own Facebook account, I stumble on this post  from Momastery.

And then I stumbled on this one that can just tack on to this message.

My parents didn’t go to a lot of my games. Oh poor me. Actually, they went to a few. And when I went to college, I was so far away, they came to as many as they could. My dad was well known for sitting in the stands and not saying one word. Once the game was over, he’d take me out to eat and ask me curious questions like, “Hey, if you can only score on a serve (I’m that old, now they play rally scoring), then why do y’all miss so many serves?” Or, “Hey, if your setter is setting the ball below the plane of the net, how can you spike it down?” Good points. He was honestly asking out of curiosity. It turns out, he kept his mouth shut because he knew he didn’t know the game any better than the refs.

We validate yelling at kids’ sports because we want to show we care and are looking out for our kids. But what’s really going on is that we’re trying to articulate to everyone around us that we know the game just as good if not better than everyone else. Better than the refs, better than the coaches and better than everyone else around us. That’s the message we’re trying to deliver.

But the message received, if you’re really listening and not chiming in on the action, is “Blah, Blah, Blah, I’m a total asshole.” So, the next week, I decided to do an experiment. I shamefully walked into the same place from the week before, hoping no one would recognize me (no one really cared) and I sat down and said nothing. On occasion, I’d catch myself about to yell something like, “That’s a foul!” But the strangest thing happened, I stopped myself. I yelled only positive encouraging tidbits, and only during down time. Never when they were playing. Surrounded by the opposing team’s parents – I noticed another interesting tidbit – we’re all guilty of negative nellies.If I’m upset at the refs calls, and the opposing team is upset at the refs calls, well, the refs aren’t calling in favor or against anyone in particular. Clearly there was no money exchanged at this game.

Even better, the parents were complete jerks. At the expense of “cheering on their kids” they were putting down our kids. Uniting in force not for their team, but against ours.  Ew. I mean, I’m all rehabilitated from insulting refs and maybe the occasional coach, but a kid? I can’t recall doing it, but I’m not putting it past myself. The experiment of silence at the game was tortuous on many levels. I was hearing and seeing me. And I hated it.

So, I’m extending the experiment into my new shiny attitude. I’m hoping we all do.

Song of the day:

Bonus song because, well, it’s a Monday:

 

 

 

Mar 21

Happy News Friday, No. 51

I have a confession to make, I’m a Wheel Watcher! As of late, I’ve been frustrated with their puzzles. “This is a THING.” And then it’s some THING no one would ever even think of like “PICKLE PECKER”. Well, yes, I suppose that’s a THING. But today, I was validated. Suck it WOF Puzzle Makers! I bet you were in there saying, “No one’ll get this one!” And lo…

On a more positive note, the surprise on this guy’s face. The delay. Pat Sajack is speechless. When the puzzle comes up, the guy is startled. Just try. Try anything. Your puzzle is bound to be solved with a little bit of creativity, and a dash of desperation. It’s worth a try. It always is.

Song of the day – a fun one:

Keep on Rockin.

Mar 14

Happy News No. 50!!!

Happy News, Y’all! You may have seen this. It’s been the buzz all week. The other day, I mentioned to a group of folks that Max wasn’t in attendance of the speaker Lucy and I were there to see because he was at basketball practice.  I was chided a bit because “There’s too much priority on kids to be in sports these days.” I wasn’t given the chance to explain that he’s also excited to play his viola, or likes art and has sparked a new interest in engineering. That first and foremost, he’s kind. And he’s also funny. And smart. But then again, I was the one that mentioned Max was at practice. So, there’s that.

Maybe there is too much emphasis on kids to be in sports. I don’t get wrestling. But I do get this. And it’s moment like these that as parents, we can only hope we expose our kids to opportunities and creativity in the human spirit and act on it – exclusively on their own.

Song of the Day: Growing Up by Run River North – This song is perfect for this happy news story today. They just released their album and I’m obsessed with it. They are beautiful people and beautiful music. Check them out.

Mar 07

Happy News, No. 49

fruit2I went fruit hunting instead of posting Happy News.

Woops, I slipped up. I missed Happy News Friday, No. 49! The good news is really only for me – I missed posting Happy News No. 49 because I did all of this:

6:15 a.m. – Woke up with kids and got ready with them for school. Since I didn’t work – I made myself some tea and actually sat down with them at the kitchen table for breakfast. Granted, we sat in silence, because it was early, and they’re tweens, but just sitting with them in silence is fun. And rare.

7:15 a.m. – Took kids to school. One of my favorite parts of my day. We have a playlist we usually listen to, but I’m abiding by a Lent Activities list and this particular day required that I not listen to the radio/playlists/podcasts in the car. But Max’s viola broke last week, and while he waits for the one we ordered, he’s listening to orchestra music as much as he can because that counts as practice time. I allow the boy to listen to the orchestra music in the car. Because he asked if he could listen to orchestra music. And also, I haven’t reviewed my list for the day to realize not to listen to the radio. I’m glad I didn’t because I let the boy listen to classical music in the car.

7:35 a.m. – I drop the kids off, and head to part one of giant grocery shopping dayTrader Joe’s. I have to wait in the parking lot for just a few minutes as they don’t open until 8 a.m. But I’m on a mission to get a lot of stuff done today. So, waiting 10 minutes while listening to the Jillian Michael’s Podcast is just fine with me.

8:30 a.m. – Thanks to my super efficient list, I rock out groceries at Trader Joe’s and head home to put them away in time to get to my Weight Watchers weigh-in and meeting.

9:15 a.m. – I head to the meeting. I’ve lost weight with this week when I was certain I’d gained. It feels like I’ve gotten away with something. Maybe. But Super Wendy advises me other wise and tells me how great I am. It’s the best errand run so far.

10:30 a.m. – I head to the bank for our super Dave Ramsey budget system. They all know me there, and have stopped asking me if I want an envelope. Wink, wink. I have my own.

11:00 a.m. – I head to giant grocery shopping part two – Costco. I heart Costco. I buy a lot of organics in bulk thanks to again, my awesome grocery list. I grab a few items not on the list and am floored at the check out when I realize I’ve completed the budget for groceries and then some.

12:00 p.m. – I pay for it all anyway, and calculate that the weather is cold enough to leave the groceries in the car while I head to my superfun lunch date with some pals of mine. It’s one of my pal’s birthdays, not mine. It’s at lunch where I chow down because I’m so hungry because I haven’t eaten yet because I weighed in. I mean, I ate a little bit at the meeting after I weighed in, but I’m super hungry and I’ve just burned some massive calories grocery shopping. The way I do, it’s a massive burn.

2:00 p.m.- I head home with the ridiculous amount of groceries. This time in silence because my friend at the lunch just reminded me I’m not supposed to be listening to the radio/podcasts/playlists thing. It was difficult to drive in silence like that. I almost just quit and turned on the podcast because the silence was so deafening anyways. But then I realized it’s only Day 3 of Lent.  I figured I better give it a good college try. At a light, I notice gigantic nests in the bare wintered trees. That’s kinda cool. It’s been there all winter, I’m sure, but I’ve just noticed now. Because of all this painful silence.

2:15 p.m. – I get home and unload all the groceries and put them away. I have to make room in the fridge for all of the food. It’s a nice problem to have. Then I wash all of the fruit. But I don’t have time to cut it up – it’s time to go get the kids.

2:45 p.m. – I jump in the car to go get the kids. They don’t even notice that there’s no music on. They fill the silence by actually telling me how their day was – with minimal prodding.

3:20 p.m. – I cut the fruit up and put it in the fridge. And we get ready for movie night. It’s a double-header – so there’s no time for dilly-dally.

4:30 p.m. – finally the kitchen is clear of the groceries. Everything is tucked in its place. I start laundry and the first movie and plop down – the first time I’ve sat down all day – well, except for lunch. And for driving…but still. And we have family movie night while I beg the kids to not eat all the food I just bought in one sitting.

And that’s how I missed Happy News this week. The happiest news of all this week is that I have a full fridge, plenty of clothes to keep my family warm and necessitate laundry, and a healthy family. Happy News Friday indeed.

Song of the day:

 

And that’s my happy news friday.