Smaht Ladieeeesss....

OK. I know you are all intelligent women, but KUDOS to those of you who knew Sally Field's quote (even though I kind of butchered it).

I sort of wish I had a prize to give away -- you know,... a little somethin' for the effort. However, sadly, I do not. Unless someone wants a box of 150 Valentine-themed stickers, half a cupcake or an old Yankee candle.

Perhaps I will try to gather some really super, high-quality items and pose another question. I am a huge trivia nerd, ... um,... I mean FAN. In fact, years ago a friend dubbed me "The Sponge of Useless Knowledge." Not quite a doctoral degree, but sometimes you take what you can get. Every time I would come up with some weird, out-of-left-field trivia nugget or answer an obscure movie-related question, she'd just laugh, shake her head and yell, "Sponge!"

In other news, I got dressed for the gym today, but never made it there. And I won't be making it there because they close in three minutes. I can still fit in an AbRipper workout, though. It only takes 16 minutes, but it's 16 minutes with a DVD featuring with the Devil -- in spandex shorts. I know,... I'll get Jeff to do it with me. This? Ought to be good for a laugh or two. Not that he can't complete the workout; rather, because he can kick my ass in the workout. Too bad I can't work out AND take pictures at the same time. Now that would make for a funny blog post.

Maybe I'll just go find that half cupcake...

"You like me,... you really, really like me!"

A couple of weeks ago, I got this in the mail from Starbucks:

It's a new "My Starbucks Rewards" card. Now, I have been a card-carrying member of the registered-Starbucks-card nation for a number of years. Back then, I had this really cool, retro-looking card:

Then, as part of my 40th birthday gift two years ago, my best friend, Shipley, enrolled me in the Starbucks Gold program, which came with this card:

Classy, no? Anyway, Starbucks has rolled out a new program called My Starbucks Rewards. They thanked me for being a Starbucks Gold member, and because we've been sharin' the love for so long, they were welcoming me to the "next evolution of their rewards program, at the Gold Level. Automatically." Here is my new card:

Oooooh... shiny. It even has my name and "Cardholder since 2007" printed on it. I. Feel. So. Special.

And, to make me feel even MORE special, I peeled off the new card to find a free drink coupon. Suh-weet! We like free things almost as much as shiny things.

The only thing is, and I hate to break it to them... but since joining the ranks of the unemployed last summer, going to Starbucks is one of the things we cut way back on. As in, special occasions only. And even then, it's iffy at best. Still, they love me. I'm a Gold Level cardmember -- even though that and a nickel (or, more accurately, $5) will not get you a cup of coffee there.

*An extra credit point to anyone who knows who said the quote used as this post's title!

Save. Me.

Today, it is me versus...

and

Because, you know, the cupcakes are left over from Sam's birthday. And the chocolates were from my wonderful husband for Valentine's Day. The chocolates were accompanied by his trademark tulip bouquet, and a bonus dozen roses. Since the flowers won't add extra weight to my hips and ass, they're not on my radar right now. They're just sitting on the table looking pretty.

The big problem today is accountability. Jeff is on duty until tomorrow morning. The kids are all at school until later this afternoon. This leaves me alone with said cupcakes and chocolates. Well, Bobby is here, but really no help in resisting temptation. He only holds me accountable for providing sippy cups of milk and a "nana" when he asks for it. Period.

It's now 10:12 am, and over the next 12 hours, I need to keep myself from dipping into the chocolates. If I can hold off for five hours, I can pawn the cupcakes off on the kids.

Wish me luck.

Even the presidents only get ONE day...

Today -- President's Day -- we're remembering all past presidents and their birthdays/deaths/anniversaries/baptisms/circumcisions/21st birthdays... etc. Whatever. So why is it that my (now) 8-yr.old had a FOUR DAY birthday celebration, hmmm?

Thursday, 02.11 was his actual birthday. This was marked by the usual doughnuts for breakfast (his sported a candle), bringing in cookies for his class treat, gifts upon returning home from school, favorite dinner (mac & cheese w/ ham) and a cake.

Friday, 02.12 we brought two of his best friends home with us after school. They played outside, played the Wii, ate hot dogs & chips and enjoyed the usual gift-opening mayhem. Also had cupcakes. Naturally, since there were cupcakes involved, the two 10-yr.olds showed up.

Saturday, 02.13 we welcomed my parents into town, and they brought Sam birthday gifts. He got an Ohio State hooded sweatshirt and knit cap, both of which he promptly put on and wore for a day and a half.

Sunday, 02.14 -- Valentine's Day -- Each child, including Birthday Boy, received boxes of chocolates from Jeff and my parents, handmade cards from me. Jeff's brother and his family came over for dinner, bringing Sam a card. Being all "caked-out," we opted to make a double batch of Ghiradelli brownies instead. With frosting, thank you very much.

When I was saying goodnight to Sam last night, I asked if he'd had a good four-day birthday. He smiled and nodded. I'm like, "You know, Sam,... not everyone is lucky enough for their birthday to span four whole days." He nodded,... his huge hazel eyes just peeping out above the top of his comforter. I heard a muffled, "Mmmm-hmm... I know" from under the blankets.

We all had better hope this kid becomes the president someday. I have a feeling his first official business will be to declare the entire month of February as a national holiday, recognizing not only past presidents and their achievements, but to revel in his awesomeness as well.

Sam Snippets

One day last week as we were driving home, the boys and I were talking about baked goods and all their sweet/chocolatey/frostingy goodness. Jack mentioned he thought "a Twinkie per day" was a fabulous idea. I, on the other hand (being the self-admitted SugarNazi I am) responded with, "Blechhh." He couldn't understand why, so I explained that since I've cut a majority of sugar from my regular diet, if I over-indulge on occasion, I will feel sick mighty quick. Sam piped up at this point with, "NOT ME! I FEEL GREAT!" This comment was said with the enthusiasm of a junkie in the middle of getting a fix. I laughed so hard I almost ditched the car.

Another day, upon arriving home from school, I placed a veggie and dip tray out on the table for grazing purposes. Bobby was sitting in his high chair at the table. Sam sauntered up, grabbed a piece of broccoli and proclaimed to his baby brother, "Look, Bobby! Broccoli! Good for the colon!"

Just one of the many things I love about that kid... how his sense of humor comes out of nowhere and slays me. Every. Single. Time.

And so now he's 8...

Today, the child previously known as "the baby" turns 8 -- Sam.

Last March, Sam was bumped from the baby spot by Bobby. (And that baby is just so stinkin' cute, how can anyone be mad at him?) Bobby's arrival was unexpected. Well, I guess the arrival wasn't so much unexpected as was actually expecting him. However, welcoming Bobby to our family allowed Sam to move up a notch on the totem pole, and providing him the golden opportunity to become something he'd never been before. Something he'd NEVER be without Bobby around -- a big brother.

(I wish I was able to put a photo of Sam and Bobby here. But we're in the middle of transferring photos from one computer to another, and I have no photo files to access here. But if I did, it would be an awfully cute picture. One that would make you go "Awwww!" and smile.)

So, anyway, today has been all about Sam. This? Has caused the older brothers, Jack and Charlie, to have some ruffled feathers. I mean, seriously... these two 10-yr. olds are certain the world revolves around them every minute of every day. How dare it even think of revolving around someone else? The nerve. Regardless, we all got birthday doughnuts this morning for breakfast. He had his name read on the morning announcements at school, and I brought in chocolate chunk cookies for a birthday treat at the end of the day. And his whole class sang to him. When we got home from school, he got to open his gifts. Then, Jeff took the boys and a friend sledding for an hour or so, while I made Sam's favorite dinner (mac & cheese with ham) and a cake. Their dad picked them up before Sam's basketball practice, and they spent the evening with him. Sam got another nice gift. I picked them up, got them home and promptly shooed them into bedtime routine -- after all, birthday or not, it's still a school night.

As I tucked my boy into bed, with his tousled hair and huge hazel eyes, I asked if he'd had a good birthday. The broad, gap-toothed smile on his face told me "yes" even before he could nod his head enthusiastically.

This boy... who I carried while chasing after two toddlers, who had mastered an impish, mischievous grin by age 2, who has idolized his two older brothers since he was aware of their presence, who is now an older brother himself... had a great birthday. And that? Makes me happy. Happy to have endured the aches and pains of pregnancy as he lounged on certain, pain-inducing nerves... happy to put up with his chatterbox tendencies... happy to know he is happy.

Happy 8th Birthday, Sam! I love you!

How to lose your mind in about 90 days...

Register for a half-marathon.

The end.

Kidding. Well, not about the half-marathon part. Jeff and I registered last summer for the Indianapolis 500 Festival half-marathon. I've run it twice. And both times, the male winner was crossing the finish line as I was just entering the Speedway. (They're kind enough to run live feed on the jumbotron.) Since the infamous track marks the halfway point of the race, that means that guy was running twice as fast as I was. I am OK with that. I not only acknowledge, but embrace my limitations. I know full well there isn't a miracle on Earth that would make me run THAT fast.

But I digress...

Here we are, perched on February 1. This year's race is May 8. I have just over three months to snap this body into shape -- even better shape than before, if I want to keep up with Jeff and his fancy 8-minute miles. (I have consistently chugged along at a nice 10-10:30 trot.) I began a more "intense" training last week at the gym, setting the treadmill at 9:30/mile and raising the incline to one percent. Don't think that sound like much? Try it. By about the 10th stride, I was like, "what the...?" and considered going back to no incline at all. I stuck it out, though. I didn't want to go home and have to admit to Jeff that I completely wussed out on it. But let me just say, It. Kicked. My. Ass.

So, now I have decided to publicly check in on the training, with periodic posts on how things are going, and how much I question my sanity for doing this to my body. Again. If I've counted correctly, I've got five half-marathons under my belt. Each and every time, by about mile 8 or 9, I have seriously asked myself why in the world I'm running 13.1 miles. By mile 11/12, I swear that I will never do one again. By the 13th mile, I'm praying that God will get me across the finish line without falling down or throwing up. Yet once I cross that finish line, such a sense of accomplishment washes over me... I walk down the chute, grab my free water and banana and almost forget how much my hips and knees are screaming at me.

It's painful, but worth it.
Hear that, May 8?
Bring. It. On.