Forget White, I'm having an Orange Christmas.

Bless me Santa, for I have sinned.  I ate another entire box of cheesy orange goodness.  Not to mention an entire box of chocolates, a plate of sugar cookies, a pan of dark chocolate and caramel brownies, and a buttload of ginger snaps.  And I got another box of chocolates today.  JESUS people -- have any of you ever heard of Brussel sprouts?  Next year I'm starting a new tradition, where it is totally cool to give your friends and neighbors Brussel sprouts, broccoli and green beans (but not the casserole where the beans are swimming in cream of  mushroom soup), instead of cookies and chocolates.  You BASTARDS!

I haven't worked out in three weeks and I've given up weighing myself -- I'm sure it's going to be ugly, because I can feel the fat building up on my belly again.  Dang it!  And I worked SO hard for months to get not-fat.

Well, I guess that's what New Year's resolutions are for.


Have a super sweet Christmas!

tag

P.S.  PUT THE COOKIES DOWN, AND STEP AWAY FROM THE PLATE, MA'AM!

It's a Costco Christmas!

dimpled cheesey goodness at an unbeatable price

I've been a mostly nice girl this year (kinda sorta) and Santa and Costco have been bery, bery good to me.  First off, let's talk about a truly delicious and cheesey Christmas, because, yes, they had FIFTEEN blue boxes for only $11.  That's only like 75 cents a box!!!!  And like .00000005 cents per calorie!  Woohoo!  Sign my fat dimpled ass up for that show! 

And what's a trip to Costco without a white fluffy mOuNTaIn of tissues and toilet paper?  Yes, both tiny bathrooms of my home are now stocked to the rafters with recycled Earth First TP.  I am not kidding.  See more photos (cuz I figured out how to work my phone with the computer).

Now THAT'S some TP!  And there are two more stacks of it where that came from.  I'm good for a year or two.  Apocalypse?  Why not Now?

tater love

So what goes with 15 blue boxes and 36 rolls of white fluffy?  You guessed it!! -- It's a 20 pound bag of TATERS!!!!  What's for dinner?  Well, it ain't beef.

I'm so full up of Costco Christmas goodness, that I'm not even sad that they were out of the ONE item that made me drive my butt to Costco in the first place -- a new string of LED holiday lights, cuz one of the 6 that I bought a month ago is already toast and no amount of futzing with the stupid microscopic fuses has fixed it -- shouldn't happen, should it?  I think not.  Anyway, I've managed to cram all 15 blue boxes and 8 cans of green beans into cupboards with another 8 cans of diced tomatoes, but the TP stands alone, kind of (too bad it wasn't cheese -- standing alone...).  Hope everyone likes it as a decor item for a while. 

I'm now wishing that I'd done a Costco Christmas theme for my holiday letter:  "On the First Day of Christ-mas, my Cost-co sold to me...!" -- the material here is endless.  I haven't even touched on the 30 lifelike LED candles with 30 extra batteries and 100 hours of candle life per fake candle for only $15!  (They look awesome in my front window.)  Oh, you KNOW you want a set.  And the deal I got on golf skorts is CRAZY even if I don't golf for the next century.  Costco, I can't quit you any more than I can quit Target. 

Okay.  Back to business.  Am I skinny or squidgy or both?  I'd say both.  Have not been working out because Ena has back problems (so she runs like 12 miles, but can't Bring It with me, which means she can eat 15 blue boxes and still be skinny -- beeotch) and my sis and I have been too busy to Skype many serious workouts.  Plus my arms are still major itchy messes.  (Don't get me started.)  So I'm a squidge-meister.  BUT, until I start my mac-n-cheese marathon, I am still following Jackie Warner's advice, and it's no fluke -- I've kept the weight off for several weeks, whereas in the past it's come back in about 1/10th the time it took me to lose it.  So THAT's good.  Will officially have to change the blog banner.  Am considering something like "Who's squidgy NOW bitches!"  But I'll refine that.

Well, buckle my bible belt! That's a WHOLE lotta Kansas.

Where to begin?  I'll start my Thanksgiving road trip in Phoenix, where I was violently ill the week before Thanksgiving.  An anaphylactic reaction to something I ate inflated my face like a Macy's parade float and gave me hives all over my arms and face, which not only got flushed and raging hot, but excessively itchy (of course), so that my top layer of skin was cooked like a Thanksgiving Day turkey  The swelling went down by Thanksgiving, so that I only looked a little bit pudgy, but my arms are still massively itchy.  I'm starting to suspect sulfites in wine/champagne.  I've been down this road before, and I think my next stop will be a return to the allergist/dermatologist to track down whatever is trying to kill me.

Meanwhile....I packed up the doggies and all my sh..stuff, plus some stuff for my sister and took it all the way to Missouri.  Yes, I did.  I made the mistake of thinking it would be more relaxing if I went slower and made it an adventure, but I don't think slow and adventurous is in my nature -- I just wanted to get into my car and get to my destination -- dragging it out didn't help.  

Lola visits NoWhere, MO: lock up your cows.

 Ate, laughed, drank through Turkey Day, then got back in the car and zoomed West.  Way West this time -- 12 hours to Albuquerque.  And we (me and the doggies) are all pooped and even crankier than usual.  Okay, mostly me.  (Can we talk about idiots that sit in the left lane and SLOWLY creep up on the trucks going .1 mph slower in the right lane, so that when I need to get over to pass, I can't?  Okay, I'm done.)

 

And one of my favorite things: Yes, it's my very own town!  

I've always wanted one.   

Today, a small part of Missouri, 

tomorrow, the WORLD!!!!!  

Mmmmmmwwwwhhhhhaaaaaaa!

Me after 9 hours of KS.

I spent about 9 hours of today's 12-hour drive in Kansas.  The land of Oz is about 8000 miles across if you go diagonally.  (Luckily, US 54 goes all the way across Kansas, 10 seconds of Oklahoma, about an hour of Texas, and right into New Mexico.) 

Yes, Kansas all looks pretty much like the photo at the right here -- a whole lotta flat.  I missed some of my favorite you'll-go-to-Hell-if-you-don't-find-Jesus billboards (it's hard to work my phone camera while blasting down the highway at 75ish and trying not to rear-end semis), so I started taking silo pics (they're easy to spot WAY ahead of time, so I could turn on the camera). Plus, they're about the most exciting thing in the landscape.

 Gimme a "K..."

Gimme an "A..."

Gimme an "N..."

Gimme an "S..."

(Okay, so I was still rushed at times.)

Gimme an "A..."

Gimme an "S...."

Yes, that's a WHOLE lot o' KANSAS!!!!!

I ran out of letters before photos.

But wait, there's more!

And MORE...

And more...

Yep.

Still more.

And trust me, that ain't the half of them.  

You know, when you look at them all together like this, I kind of like them.  The bug juice is a bonus.  (I'll clean the windshield later.)


Shoot, I forgot two of my best photos!  Here they are.

Tractor line up.

And cattle call.  Hard to tell from this photo, but there were acres and acres of cows.  Really.  HUGE.  Everything from the fence to the horizon is cows.  In, where else?  Texas.




So I finally get out of frickin' Kansas and through Texahoma (seriously), and enter New Mexico, Land of Enchantment, where, after hours and hours of two-lane highway 54, I was rewarded by this view for about 1.5 hours:

New Mexico - Land of I-Can't-See-the Road

But then, thankfully, darkness fell and I had this view.  Much better, yes?

 

Anyway, I'll be home and itching at my own house in Phoenix tomorrow.  The doggies and I will be super happy.  (Lola is currently guarding all of us at LaQuinta by alternately pacing and staring really hard at the door, so she's probably going to be tired.)  Speaking of which, I'ma go soak.  We'll talk about the whole getting-back-in-shape thing later.

Where my massage at?

Post script:

Well, the drive from Albuquirky to PHX was interesting.  It started out WINDY.  Then we went through cloudy with blowing snow.  Then it was beautiful and sunny with fluffy white clouds -- see the last-described weather at left.

 THEN, I ran into a blizzard and a line of traffic that crawled along for about 20 miles and delayed me more than an hour....see right.

Follwed by...you guessed it:  gorgeous sunny weather as shown at right.  All within a few hours.  I love Arizona.

Persistent sub-q squidge and how it must die an ugly death.

I've had the blog-ity-blahs again.  Just not feelin' it for a while -- busy and feeling very un-funny.  But, here I am in my new PJs on a Sunday morning (nothing makes you feel better than some new PJs and about 10 hours of sleep), and I'm ready to blog.

112.6 today, and it's been, what, about a month on the WWJWD program?  So it's not a fluke and I've been holding my own pretty well.  Halloween is always a b!tch and there are still some mini Snickers calling me faintly from the dining room.  I think I ate like 5 last night -- kind of lost it.  I tend to do better at Thanksgiving and Christmas than Halloween -- those holidays are more quantity issues and less sugar.  But then you can't work out for two months because you're so busy going to parties and buying gifts, making gifts, wrapping gifts and delivering gifts....  Oh, and let's not forget the holiday letter and photo shoot, etc.  Dang, I'm stressed just writing about it now.

Where was I?  I still have a lot of old-lady squidge on top of my P90X muscles, but I'm workin' on that.  When Ena is not available to Bring It (Canyon rafting trips and back problems have put a temporary kaibosh on Bringin' It), I have been Skyping strength training workouts with my sister, who, it turns out, doesn't even complain about 60 push ups, 60 lunges, and 100 Mason Twists (it's a P90X move) in one work out.  And we can go through everything pretty quickly without Tony's P90Yackin', and be done in about 30-40 minutes and move on to a glass of champagne and a chat while we surf the web for shit-we-don't-need.

So that's it for the squidge-loss program -- you are up to date.  I'm still deciding on the proper banner for the blog at this point.  I no longer need to lose "10 pounds" of mid-life squidge, but I still need to lose more squidge, because it persists, kind of all over.  I lost lots of the belly fat, but, as I mentioned last blog, still have a layer of sub-q squidge (possible new banner?: "Losing that last sub-q squidge."?) making me look very middle frickin' aged.  So I'm still a bit unsatisfied and still determined to get rid of a little more of it.  I think I'm on the right track, though, with this whole, eating right and exercising thing.

I'ma leave you with some Halloween happiness. 

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED?

Well, technically, I have met my goal of losing 10 pounds of mid-life squidge.  I started out at 122 almost exactly one year ago, and I've been under 112 for 5-6 days now.  So, I did it!  I should be happy.  And I am, mostly.  This is really great.  I no longer FEEL pudgy every minute of the day and in all my pants.  

BUT, it turns out that I still have a little way to go.  I've still got a layer of fat all over my body that squidges out of my sports bras something awful, and if I wear tight pants, I can whip up a mini muffin faster than you can say Betty Crocker.  So there remains some work to be done.  I keep telling myself that it took me years to get this way and it will take me years to fix it.  The battle rages on, and I'll continue trying to work out and replace the squidge with muscle.

I'm hoping that I can keep up the Jacki Warner program -- her directions for eating healthy have worked better than anything else I've tried over the last year or more (and I tried a lot of stuff).  It helped me lose the last few pounds I haven't been able to get rid of -- remember the 114.8-pound rut?  I'm over it, thanks to Jackie.  In fact, I should stop and eat some oatmeal or eggs or something real quick.

Okay, two eggs and one cup of veggies down.  Check.  I just need to eat one cup of oatmeal and another cup of veggies to meet today's WWJWD food goal.  I've been telling everyone how great the JW diet plan is (and I hate to use that word, because it is NOT a "diet," it is healthy eating and actually adding in foods that are good for you and getting used to eating them instead of, say, Pringles, Cheetos, or the Blue Box that-shall-remain-nameless), but people don't seem to believe me when I tell them that I lost 5 pounds in just a few days when I started eating this way (and I did lose more than 5 pounds -- I was 114.8 when I started eating this way on Saturday and woke up at 109.4 on Tuesday, but I've kind of stabilized at 111.4, so it's really been like 3 pounds in one week -- still excellent for someone my size), and they get all skeptical and argumentative on me -- "oh, it must have been just water weight."  So, I'ma stop pushing it (even though I'm still crazy excited about it), because I'm kind of tired of trying to defend it.  Nuts that you have to defend eating healthy.  Seriously.

Anyway, I'ma have to change my banner now.  If I can maintain for another week or two, I'll "Mission Accomplish" my blog banner, and change it to "maintaining my mid-life squidge loss" or something equally special.

Lesbian love affair...Heeeeey, get a Snuggie!

111.2  O.  M.  G.

That's what the New Digital is reading this morning after two days of "eating clean" according to Jackie Warner.  And I have been waking up AWAKE for the last two days too -- that's weird.  Is it all the diet?  Can't say for sure, but I've been working on this for almost a year now with not much to show in the way of results and I'm finally seein' em.  So, I think I'm having my own little lesbian love affair with Jacki Warner and her book This is Why You're Fat and How to Get Thin Forever.  Jackie shares my view that sugar is Satan's supplement, and her diet takes my love of eggs to places even I have not dared to go.  I ate like a pig yesterday trying to comply with her eating instructions and still lost weight.  Love, love. 

The secret seems to be protein, oatmeal and fruits/veggies.  Not to mention water.  That's obviously over-simplified, but reading her book finally motivated my ass to stop eating sugar and flour (although I thought I was already kind of not doing that) and get serious about my fruits and veggies.  Plus the new super-blender (the Waring Extreme) blends up a smoothie like nobody's business.  And who knew that milk had so much sugar in it?  I thought it was SUCH a healthy drink, and it turns out that, maybe not so much.  See!  Even after a year of searching and researching, I've still got a lot to learn.  I will be shopping Sprouts later today and bringing home a big ol' bunch of organic fruits and veggies, instead of my usual stuff that is maybe not too unhealthy.  I'm kind of excited about this.  (Hey, maybe I'll get some beans for the new pressure cooker, which is working out great, BTW.)

And speaking of excited -- the new Snuggie commercials are out!!  "Heeeeeey, get a Snuggie!"  (To the Macarena tune -- I don't know how to spell Macarena, but you know what I mean.)  As much as I totally HATE Snuggies (Why yes, I'd love a monk's robe in cheap faux zebra fleece, and what a great idea to wear this thing out in public!), I have to admit their new jingle is memorable (ripping off something that already sticks in the brain like PB to the roof of your mouth helps), and the atmosphere is festive -- they're pretty much dancing in their Snuggies now, they're so happy.  Jee-zus.  You have to hand it to the Snuggie people -- they must be making a snugly Snuggie fortune.

But I won't need a Snuggie this winter, because my ass is going to be so skinny I'ma want to show it off in something like, oh, I don't know, real clothess

A sootable ending for the GS Buddy Burners and on to new HEALTHY cooking adventures!

Well, since my last blog, like a YEAR ago, I swear, I have tested, used, and discarded the old Girl Scout Buddy Burners and vagabond stoves that I made for camping.  They worked great, the Cowgirl Casserole was better than expected (think baked beans with pork sausage over biscuits), but the incredible layers of SOOT that covered everything that the buddy burner touched were enough to make me content with a short visit to Girl Scout-hood, and the burners are being recycled in favor of a neater, cleaner, portable charcoal grill with its very own carrying bag (thank you Amazon).  It really was fun, though, and  big thanks to my camping divas for humoring my lame-assed backyard camping dinner.

So now that THAT'S over with....I bought two pressure cookers!!!  Yeah.  Because my Mother Earth Newsletter had an article about the wonders of pressure cookers.  And I gotta admit, they are pretty freakin' cool.  They arrived last night, and I've already made rice in three minutes (really) and leek and potato soup in 4 minutes.  About to open up the soup.  Wow!  Now that's some steam.  And the soup is delicious.  Hmmmm.  Julie and Julia WATCH OUT.  I'm thinking Lorna and Tracy, or, because I'm egomaniacal, maybe Tracy and Lorna.  Because I also bought Pressure Perfect by Lorna Sass.  And so far, I'm very pleased.  Will report back after paiella adventure next Sunday. 

Meanwhile, the New Digital is reading 114.8 (cuz it likes point eight) after Bowl One of leek and potato soup and a 3.5-hour work-out week.  Ena and I are Bringin' It to our body parts one hour at a time MWF and then I Skype yoga with my sister whenever time permits.  So, no, I'm about 2 lbs short of my initial 10 lb weight-loss goal, but I like to think the muscle is creeping up on the fat.  And once it cools off, I'm back to walking in the mornings, and BYE-BYE back fat.

I'm off to read my new Why You Are Fat book by Jackie Warner with a glass of champagne.  TTFN.

Old sweat(s).

Well, bust out some sparkly striped short shorts and call me Richard Simmons (and while I'm thinking of little Richard, what kind of extra-sweet, bad-ass Halloween costume would that be?), cuz I sweated off like 3 pounds last weekend.  No, I didn't actually work out.  I worked outside.  In my storage shed to be exact.  Yes, I selected Saturday, when it was a full-on sunny 110F, to remove EVERYTHING (well, almost everything) from my garden shed/enormous wooden oven, and replace my old crap-I-threw-together shelves with new, properly-constructed bull-nose composite shelving that won't buckle under the weight of all the stuff I can't throw away.  Fortunately, I had the assistance and additional sweat power of EXTRA-GOOD FRIEND (who deserves a serious merit badge of some kind for this) Patrick.  I could not have re-shelved the shed without him.  (Well, honestly, I probably COULD have, but it would have taken two weeks and involved lots of cussing, and I would have found an excuse to re-do it half-assed.)  It was seriously frickin' hot and exhausting and I wound up in bed at 9 pm.  But the good news is, that I was 3 pounds lighter on Sunday!!! Seriously, I lost THREE POUNDS just sweating in the shed one day (it was like 8 hours, but still, just one day).  I went from my 115.4-pound rut to 112.4!  I wish I'd known this trick earlier -- I could have met my 10-pound goal in half a week!  So now I'm thinking, I should turn the shed into my own personal sweat lodge/spa shed.  Some rocks, a little fire, and some water for steam, and I'm good to go.  I could probably charge admission.  Tracy's Sweet Sweat Shed Spa.  (Say that three times, real fast.)

If you see smoke and hear drums and chanting, come on back and sweat with me.  It'll be fun.  Really.  I've still got some organizing to do, so you might have to help sort through years of sprinkler heads, fertilizer, and pool hose, but that's fun, right?  Just ignore the lawn mower.

P.S.  I was already back up to 113.5 by Monday morning.  So sweat loss maybe not totally effective.  Perhaps I should combine it with a Pleasant Peppermint colon cleanse?

P.P.S.  Now that I think about it, I may have been too tired to eat dinner after slaving in the shed, so that might have contributed to the weight loss.

P.P.P.S.  And speaking of sweats, while cleaning out the shed, I made an amazing archeological find -- my old Shawnee Mission West Vikettes (yes, it's a female Viking or something) high school drill team sweats!  What a riot.  (Go Shawn-ee Miss-ion, fight for vic-tor-y....)  These vintage sweats are THIRTY-ONE YEARS OLD!!!  Yes, they are.  And still a vivid hideous yellow that was supposed to be "gold."  Mom must have used color-safe bleach and cold water, because these bad boys are still neon.  (This vintage-style photo doesn't do the old "gold" justice, so I'll have to take a regular photo of these [maybe even ON my person] and post that later.)  Why TH was I keeping them?  Who knows.  But I worked up the nerve to try them on Monday morning.  Thankfully, they were not only unnaturally yellow, they were also ENORMOUS on me when I was the littlest 90-pound Vikette (Julie Pearce, totally different story), so the top fits fine (still baggy, even after being narrowed back in 1979) and my ass just barely fits into the bottoms.  I'm so proud.  And now that I've dug them up again, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to throw them away.  Again.  Suggestions on what to do with the crazy yellow Vikettes sweats welcome.  (West is the BEST, so show all the rest!  Come on Vikings win to-ni-i-ight!)

Exploring: the relationship between beans and camping.

To boldly go where only squirrels and elk have gone before requires a set of very LARGE number 10 tin cans.  And that means beans.  Beans, baby, beans.  My desire to relive Girl Scout H.E.A.V.E.N. (my favorite thing was making an egg and toast on a buddy burner and a No. 10 tin can stove) necessitated a visit to Costco, where I scored gallon-sized cans of green beans, tomato sauce, ranch-style beans, and chilli.  What could possibly be campier?  Not much.

Being incapable of waiting for a legitimate occassion to serve this food to a small army, I immediately busted out the green beans.  Because I LIKE green beans.  Saute some onions in there, and you've got a meal.  A meal that not everyone appreciates, but it works for me.  Add some bacon, and I think anyone would be pretty happy.  But I didn't.  I'm a frickin' saint.  The green beans were tasty, healthy, inoffensive, and really unobjectionable on every level.  They lasted like 5 days and I think I lost a pound.  And I got my first camping "stove."  I removed BOTH ends of the can, bought a cast-iron diffuser-type thing to use as a top/burner for my sweet new red-enamel coffee pot and my cast-iron frying pan/deep dish combo, and I've got a kick-ass stove top for one of my new buddy burners.  In theory, because I haven't tried any of this yet.  But now that I think of it, doesn't it seem like a GREAT idea to try frying an egg on this rig in the morning?  Let's let that idea marinate and I'll let you know.

No. 10 can number 2, was an inoccuous tomato sauce that went onto some penne and will be seen on some chicken and rice with onion soup this weekend.  Too boring to merit much discussion.  I made a traditional tin can stove with this baby -- 3"-wide flap on the bottom and 5 triangle bottle-opener vents near the top.  I can cook my egg directly on the top of this bad boy.  But will it last?  Who cares, I can always buy another can of green beans.

No. 10 can number 3.  Now here's where we run into a bit of a thing.  This can was "ranch-style" pinto beans.  The bastards.  It's beans with a sauce composed mainly of beef fat.  What.  The.  Hell.  And the result (even after draining off the fat sauce) is something a little less severe than, but similar to, brussel sprouts and cauliflower mixed with alcohol in the rain while camping.  It's less severe, but of apparently limitless duration.  Lola and I are using the new tower fan in the bedroom.

And that leaves me with No. 10 can number 4.  Chilli.  (Do that whistle from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly here.)  Chilli.  I'll let you know when I work up the nerve to open up this can of whoop-my-ass.

Maybe I'll save it for camping.  :-)

Skip to my loo. My Lovable Loo.

Prophetic? Or pathetic?  Well, if you go back to my last post, you will see that I tempted Fate with some BS about bringing on the rain.  So...duh.  I lost my pocket camera, a book of checks (although Costco was able to process one really damp check this evening), some actual books, and a sponge masquerading as a roll of precious toilet paper, in the mini-flood that happened in my tent on Saturday night.  To be fair, if I had zipped up my tent door that last 2 inches before the rain, I think I would have been fine.  Seriously, like 2 inches or less, of the last teeny, tiny, little bit of the zipper fly got stuck to the inside of the tent, and I had like a gallon of water in there on my water-tight floor right where I was storing all my shee-ite.

(So here I am setting up the Nylon Palace.  Nice and dry at that point.  Nature can be so cruel.)

But we were having a great time in the lean-to on the other side of camp in the pouring rain, drinking, going tribal with wet M&Ms, eating mostly dry and still slightly warm brussel sprouts and cauliflower (more on that later), and, I think I mentioned, drinking.  So it was fun, even with the rain.  And I've always felt like a really miserable camping trip is a fabulous bonding experience.  Mission accomplished.  Bonding complete.  Plus I got to use both the fold-up rain coat and my Nature Conservancy umbrella.

So, let's review the portable not-peeing-in-the-woods devices that I took along, shall we?

First, we have the folding toilet seat that can be used with or without an attached plastic bag (on the left in this photo -- I've spared you the shot of me licking the toilet seat), but has no lid and a bag-retaining rim that falls off if you even consider looking at it.  Without a lid, unless you're replacing the bag every time, it seems kind of stupid to use the bag, because, well, yuck.  This one worked best the one time I trudged into the woods (which was never very far, because you can see forever in this area and there didn't seem to be much point in trudging out farther so that the view of my parts would be only a bit smaller and blurrier, and please ask me why every frickin' time I went to the bathroom out there, some stupid hunters would drive by.  Slowly.  Then turn around and come back.  Slowly.)...where was I?  Oh yes, trudging into the woods with the lidless potty.  And my adze.  This lidless seat is actually quite good for sitting over a hole that you've dug, doing your business, and then covering it up.  Saves the thighs.  (I guess that's why old people don't camp so much.)  But really, the star potty performer was the Luggable Loo (I'm groping the lid with great affection in the photo).  That thing is awesome.  Lived up to the rave reviews on Amazon (if I'm ever in a situation without water/sewer connection, I want this thing), and literally saved my ass and other body parts in the pouring rain at 3 am.  Because Nature DID frickin' call post-brussel sprouts, cauliflower and alcohol in a pretty heavy rain.  I mean, I fought it for like 3 hours (because the bitch rang me up at midnight), but then Nature's call could no longer be ignored.  As promised, I answered with the Luggable Loo, which I'm going to rename, the Lovable Loo.  At 3 am, in the dark with a very soggy roll of TP that kept breaking apart, struggling to hold my umbrella in the rain, sitting on my safe, sanitary, black plastic seat (that was dry because it has a LID), I fell in L-O-V-E, instead of into some chipmunk hole in the woods (or maybe a rabbit hole, because I think Chip and Dale were tree dwellers, at least at Warner Bros.).  And there you have it -- the Luggable Loo is really lovable.  I will not camp without it in future, and given the frequency of drive-bys while unsucessfully trying to duck behind ferns while on the pot, I am considering buying the Loo it's own privacy shelter.  Take that, you stupid hunters.  [Update: You know I couldn't live without a portable pop-up privacy hut for the privy.  Because I'm really not pooping in the woods on any future trips.  And thanks to the wonders of Amazon Prime, HERE IT IS!!!  ===>

Looks good in my living room, doesn't it?]

Camping was a lot of work, but totally fun, and made me crazy nostalgic for my old Girl Scout buddy burner and vagabond stove -- I've made two buddy burners since I got home and bought the ginormous number 10 cans of green beans and other assorted giant cans of food necessary to make the cooking surface/stoves over the burners tonight.  Look for a vagabond stove conflagration in my neighborhood soon.

Meanhile, I'll post the photos from the expedition (taken by those Divas who DIDN'T lose the charge in their phones within hours of arrival and DIDN'T let their sleeping quarters flood in the rain -- lesson learned; I get it) as soon as possible, like in the morning.  I'm only up now because I'm waiting for a yogurt cheesecake to cool off a bit.  Is that so wrong? 

Ena and I did some Yee on the trip right before the heavens opened.  (Maybe it was a sign.)  But I'm still pudgy and squidgy and middle-aged.

Look for Ena's Diva Camping trip blog (which will be much more interesting and informative and probably have less potty stuff) soon.  I'll post a link (like I know how).

Update:  No, I didn't post those dang photos right away, because I actually had to do some work.  But I'll post a few here and maybe some more with my latest brain infarction exploring the relationship between camping and beans, coming to this blog by the weekend.  Here you go.

In the driveway, before departure.  Of course we look good.  It doesn't last long.

And for contrast -- 1.5 days later in rain, post alcohol and soggy M&Ms.  (Yeah, It's a good look.  I was awake all night with the rain and the brussel sprouts/cauliflower colon expansion deal (not to mention alcohol, which I'm pretty sure I mentioned), and started chipping away at the blue candy-coated shell on my face sometime about 4 a.m.  I left a surprising amount of it on my pillow.  And on my face.  Lookin' really good on Sunday morning.  But I'm not a morning person anyway, so who cares.) Thanks to Ena, Mary J, and Julie for making this such a fun trip. 

I totally love this shot -- freakazoid Lola imprisoned in the Nylon Palace against her will.  She is the neediest little sh!t on the planet -- chewed a leash apart when I left her in camp alone to go up the hill for FB reception (that was before the phone battery died and I found out I brought the wrong cable for a recharge).  She would have ripped the tent to shreds if I hadn't left her a peep hole.

And the boo-boos sharing McD's french fries in the car, because what's the rule?  The rule is that I get to have a cheeseburger and fries whenever I do a road trip.  So we all had fries on the way up and back.  The doggies likey the fries.  (Look how cute they are!!  Thanks Ena, for taking such great photos.)

Because it's never a good idea to wrestle a wet tent with a poodle after two glasses of white "table" wine.

Well, I admit it, I've been a little bit depressed lately.  Just not feeling the working out/bloggin' thing.  I'm STUCK around 115 pounds, still a bit squidgy, and would like to lose 5 more pounds.  But, on the plus side, I was worse a year ago.  I'm trying to Bring It, but Ena hurt her back, so I have no motivation, and my sister can only work out like once a week, and that's at 8 or 9 at night my time, which is when I'm usually on my second drink, so it's not my preferred schedule.  I do, however, continue to try.

The BIG excitement this week is a camping trip!  Yes, squeeze me and squeal like a 10-year-old girl, I'm frickin' excited about camping.  It's like being a Girl Scout again, but with WAY better equipment.  I don't even care if the heavens open up like it's the friggin' apocolypse.  I am ready.  I've got a cool fold-up-into-a-bag rain coat, a sizeable umbrella, a tarp for under the tent, and a brand new two-room four/five-man tent for myself and two doggies, and I'm ready to rock.  Let it rain -- I'ma be chillin' in my tent with my homies on an air mattress with wool blankie, 800TC sheets, fleece, and a cotton quilt topper.  And if nature calls (hello?), I'ma answer on one of my two new I'm-not-peeing-in-the-woods pottie chairs.  Oh yes, it is possible to competely avoid nature while camping. 

Oh, and wrestling with the tent and the poodle?  Well, I did what was supposed to be a "dry" run with the new tent last night.  Easy-breezy slap up the tent in the front yard and make sure it's all there, check the size...you know.  But there must be some rule about putting up a tent.   I'm busy fighting the wind and running around to four corners of this nylon palace, when it starts to frickin' rain.  Yes, there IS a rule that if you put up a tent it must rain before you can get inside.  But I got the thing up and it was awesome and comfy -- so comfy that I couldn't get Lola the little-poodle-who-doesn't-know-she's-about-to-camp out of the tent!  Glad she likes it, because it's about to be home for two days.  Anyhoo, the wet run went pretty well -- only stepped on the poodle twice and I learned not to try to put the poles into the corner thingies until the end, and those two left over poles probably go in the rain fly.  So I won't look like an amateur when I camp and it was all worth it.  Maybe I'll turn into a "camper!"  I've certainly got all the sh!t now.

So, I'll update after the big trip -- am taking the Yee so we can yoga in the great out of doors, assuming my ipod holds out.  And maybe my special Old Gringos with the rhinestones, so that I can feel like I'm stylin in the wilderness.  And some champagne.  Lots of champagne.

Is it a groove, or a 115.4 pound rut?

Yeah, still not feelin' the blogging thing.  But I don't have much to report.  I'm in a self-improvement rut.  I'm totally stuck at 114.4, or 115.4, depending on time of day, month, and spot on the bathroom floor.  I'm Bringin' It with Ena and/or Steve whenever possible, but schedules do not always permit (we only got to Bring It once this week), so then I have to rely on my sporadic Skype workouts with my sister in St. Paul.  The good news is that I am actually starting to miss working out when I don't do it.  Yeah!  Because motivating to do the workout has always been like 99.8% of my problem.  So last weekend, when I was left to my own devices, I intentionally went for a walk (which would have worked out better without the toy poodle that pooped out after 20 minutes and had to be carried home), and then ripped up my abs with the ol' Ab Ripper X -- sixteen minutes of ab-tastic fun with "in-and-outs," "crunchy frogs," and "mason twists."  Yeah, it's as fun as it sounds.  But even with sparse work outs, I think I'm seeing some improvement -- the layer of fat on my arms is less dimply and I feel less like a breakfast muffin in my jeans and stuff.  I think if I keep it up, I might eventually get back into shape.  It just may be more like P900X -- what's that, like 2.5 years? 

So today was a good day -- Ena and I did shoulders, back and triceps, PLUS Ab Ripper X, and then I did 50 minutes of Power Yoga with my sister and the Yee tonight.  Now if I can only work out like maybe one or two more times this week.  And for the rest of my frickin' life.  Sigh.  SO depressing.  The Crazy Bitches of New Jersey are my only solace -- I can always rely on them for some excellent cussing, fighting, more cussing, some unnecessary scary plastic surgery, fighting again, and then some more cussing with Jersey accents.  All good and I feel better.  And classier, Bitch!

Those bastards at Safeway put the Blue Box on sale.

Seriously, when there's a GIANT end cap display of dozens, maybe even hundreds, of my favorite blue boxes all lined up and ready to take home, and the sign says 5 for $5, WTF am I gonna do?  I had to buy some.  BUT, I only bought two.  A year ago, I would have bought five, or maybe ten.  But I did have BBQ chips and cottage cheese for dinner tonight, so it's not like I'm a saint or anything.  I still have no will power.  I have to NOT buy stuff, because if it's in the house, I'm eatin' eat.  I might feel bad later, but I'm eatin' it.  In fact, just writing about the Blue Box and knowing I have 2 in the kitchen is making me salivate.  (Did Pavlov feed his doggies mac n cheese?  Cuz that would've done the job.)

The lazy blogger and America's evil body image.

I've lost that blogging feeling.  Just have nothing to say.  Maybe because I was SO bad for three weeks without my P90partner, Ena.  But Ena's back and we Brought It to our legs and backs on Monday.  And yet, I've still got what feels like 20 pounds of back and belly fat -- I sat and pinched it tonight during Coco Before Chanel.  (I KNOW it's not my fault and I should just take a pill and be all better, but somehow I want to do it the old-fashioned way.)  Enter FitTv, my hero.  I'm watching "The Skinny on Fat" produced as part of the National Body Challenge.  It's an Oz-fest exploring the fat that makes us Americans -- big, fat, diabetic Americans.  It's loaded with great information from our cute scrub-sporting doctor.  But even this show tells us it is NOT our fault if we're fat.  It that's true, then shouldn't some of the Biggest Loser contestants fail miserably?  And yet all of them lose weight.  Not just a little, but a LOT of weight once they start eating right and working out.  So, while I think people may have some predisposition toward obesity, I think it's lazy to just decide that you can't help it, because I think everyone can to some extent, and it's dangerous to do nothing about it.

But more annoying than the "it's not my fault, and I can't do anything about it" attitude, is the idea that doing nothing, not working out, not eating right, just piggin' away and sitting around, is normal, acceptable behavior, and that working out, say 3 times per week, is strange and "obsessive."  Seriously.  I told an acquaintance that I was working out and trying to get back into shape (and, as we know, I'm not working out that much), and she told me I shouldn't "obsess" about it.  "Obsess?"  WTF.  So working out like 3 times per week and actually attempting to get into some kind of healthy shape, instead of being a lump of lard (even if my lumps aren't nearly as bad as 60-70% of the rest of America) is "obsessive."  That's just frickin' sad.  Where has our body image gone, when working out a few times a week and trying to get into a healthy, stronger, leaner, and less future-diabetic shape, is "obsessive?"

Well, if working out a few times a week and trying to get healthy is obsessive, then sign me freakin' up.  I'd rather be crazy than lazy.  Ouch -- harsh, I know.  But there it is.  MHO.

Blaaaaaaahhhhhh and the Cirque pas du Soleil.

I haven't posted in forever.  I'm just not feelin' it.  Am doing a whole lot of NOT working out and NOT getting skinny.  Cheetos (the Natural ones, of course) are my life and soul.  (Although I did clean out my office and file stuff today -- once a year, whether it needs it or not.)

On the upside, TCM is running a night of circus-themed horror movies.  After Freaks, I caught Circus of Horrors, and now Berserk (Joan Crawford) is making my Friday night fabulous.  Who needs to work out? Pas moi.  Muscle?  Overrated.  I'm sure I'll be sorry tomorrow.  Because, yes, there was some wine and internet shopping involved.

P.S.  The eczema is almost gone since I've vampired-up with pants, long sleeves and big hats (what kind of idot vampire would live in Phoenix?) in 114F heat.  Yeah, it's a good look.  I love my life.  Okay, really I do, so my sarcasm there was kind of stoopid.  I blame the wine.

Bringin It Solo. Who knew?

I absolutely cannot believe that I done Brung It all by myself yesterday.  I guess I don't want to lose the progress I've made Bringin It with Ena and Steve (who are both out of town, damn their souls).  And maybe I've gotten used to working out and I kind of missed it.  So I popped in a little chest, shoulders and triceps action yesterday and did a full hour with Tony and the rest of the super freaks with ripped abs in my living room.  Oh yeah.  I'm bad.  I can do like 15 boy push-ups now.  In a row.  And I kind of like doing abs.  (It's so exciting to be getting back into shape and losing the flab!)

Don't get me wrong -- I'm a long way from ripped.  And my external layer of fat is truly resilient.  I thought it would be long gone by now.  But nope, it's permafat (kind of like permafrost, only fat).  So I still feel a bit old and pudgy, I bought bigger tops this summer, my fat still squishes unflatteringly around anything more constricting than baggy boxer shorts, and I won't be wearing a bikini any time soon, but the layer of fat is a little thinner and I don't feel as bad in my jeans and my larger-sized tops.  Plus I'm not as worried about what I eat, because I'm burning it off and then counting on the new muscle to continue to kill the fat.  I'm not ready to buy more of the Blue-Box-that-should-not-enter-my-cupboards yet, but I'm hoping by the fall that I'll be able to withstand the occasional Mac ('n cheese) Attack.

Because I'm feeling better in my pants, I haven't checked the scale in a while.  So I'ma do it now.  Do I undress first?  Who knows, back in a flash....

...well, after removing my heavy (French Gap) jeans, my Keen tennies, and my biggest jewelry, I came in at 115.6.  And that was at the most "accurate" (i.e., the lightest) spot on my bathroom floor.  Am I the only one whose scale gives different readings at different locations?  If I put the scale at one spot on my tile, I weigh a full pound more than at other spots.  What, is gravity working harder there?  Anyway, I'd like to be a bit lighter, but I'm chalking this one up to (1) more muscle from frickin' thousands of P90pushups, and (2) the really dense Baby Bel "light" cheese wheel that I had with my toast this morning.  That thing was like an alien material -- like half a ton in a 1" wax package.  Holy heavy cow.

A big slice of the Fourth.

Let's see, Cheetos (lots), fried chicken strips (also lots), sub sandwich, egg rolls, seven layer dip with chips (most of the platter, because I was lucky enough to snag the last tray at Safeway), 3 fudgesicles, and 2/3ds of a giant raspberry pudding cake ring.  And, of course, a Bud Light Lime and 2-3 glasses of wine.  Oh yeah, I'm a patriot.  A pudgy little patriot.

The good, the bad, and the itchy.

Well, the good news is, I'm Bringin' It again.  Yeah!!!  Kudos to Ena's spouse and P90X substitute, Steve-O, for Bringin' It this morning.  In fact, he's the one that motivated, cuz I probably would've gotten around to calling to arrange a workout, oh, next week.  So we killed ourselves with legs and back and then really put the hurt on with Ab Ripper X.  Wahooooooo!  Oh, I'm a health nut.  Another six months of this and I really WILL have abs.

The bad and the itchy are kind of one and the same.  My skin continues to try to kill me.  Yesterday I walked the dogs for about 10 minutes when it was sunny and about as hot as the surface of the sun, and with legs and arms exposed.  I guess my sunscreen must have worn off, because I paid for that with a return of eczema (the itch that rashes) all over my arms and lower legs (plus my face itches, but my hat must have protected me from the full-on eczema or Grover's on my face).  I'm back to where I was two years ago, waking up at night itching all over, so I have to get up and put heat (I like to use my hair dryer, thanks) on the rash to fire off the histamine.  Nice.  Basically, since March it's become more and more clear that I'm photosensitive.  So now, not only am I allergic to grass, trees, dust, pollen, dogs, cats, and basically everything that grows or breathes, now I'm apparently allergic to friggin' sunshine.  Sunshine!  Shit.  It's kind of sunny here in Phoenix.  And so much for spending the 4th poolside workin' on my tan.   

So life is good when it's not sucking rocks.  Let's do a quick check with the New Digital and see what two weeks in Europe did to my middle-aged flabby body....114.6.  Ouch a little bit.  And I must confess -- the scale actually said 116.4, but then I removed a shirt layer and moved the scale to another spot on the floor to get a "more accurate" read.  114.6 it is.

P.S.  Snooty photo of attempt to avoid French sunshine while face recovering from red-spotted Grover's inserted here -- always classy with my tiger T-shirt.

P.P.S.  P90Update: the legs and back workout provides a painful, but excellent, non-surgical butt lift.  You know what's great when it's 112F and your butt hurts?  A fudgesicle.  Hard to type with, but tasty.

Oh, so you can't open a bottle of wine with a shoe? I can.

Okay, two cool things, and then I've got to go:

1.  They had new layout options, so I'm trying this one.  Like it?

2.   The most awesome video ever, showing how to open a bottle of wine using a shoe.  Yes, a shoe.  Go there, see it, try it, report back.  open vino with shoe

I had to clean my whole fur-infested house this morning, then re-stock the fridge, so guess what got cut out of my morning plan?  Yes, Bringing It was a bust.  Didn't happen.  Not even 20 mins with Gilad as a substitute.

Dang it.  But the wine thing is totally cool. 

Pooped, lagged, and P90partnerless.

So I got home from Italy/France, after 21 hours of sitting on planes and in aiports, about 7pm local last night.  Was absolutely pooped in a figurative sense, and then stepped in a more literal version.  I somehow managed to step into a fresh bit of dog poop that my dog MAY have accidentally and completely innocently dropped on my kitchen floor.  Unfortunately, it was one of those deals where you don't see it, you step in it, and then you run around the house (yes, spreading it all over) going, "What smells like dog poop?  Why do I smell dog poop everywhere?  Oh shit."  So then I spent another half hour de-pooping my shoes and bleaching the hard floors and spraying sanitizer on the rugs until I can clean them more thoroughly.   Just what I wanted to do while exhausted.  My vacation is SO over.

Managed to get to bed early despite poop problem, but that was apparently a mistake, since my body was all BOOM, "welcome to wide awake," at 1:30 a.m.  I've already been to the bathroom, taken a Benadryl, watched the end of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and don't have much more to say, blog-wise.  That's not good.  Guess I'll have to watch the 1997 Ray Liotta thriller that's on next -- Turbulence is Airport with a bunch of in-flight murders and a really hard-to-believe ending where Lauren Holly, the scared-but-incredibly-brave flight attendant (can't call 'em stewardi any more, can we?) lands the plane.  OMG I hope I fall asleep before the dramatic ending.  And P.S., I've been overseas several times -- how come I never get the ginormous, 12-seat-across double decker plane with a cocktail lounge on the second floor and only a handful of passengers?  How do I get me a ticket on one of those, but with no snakes, serial killers, or engine problems?

Despite my scale photo from Paris (that big green thing did not work and seems to be a way for someone to collect 1E per idiot who thinks it might really work), I have no idea whether I maintained my weight over two weeks of eating yummy forbidden food with nothing more challenging to my fat than walking around old castles.  I don't think castle walking is any match for chocolate croissant consumption.  So, as much as I hate being healthy and working out, I'm gonna try to get back into the Bringin' It schedule this week.  BUT, my P90Partner, Ena, is now out of town for three weeks.  Double shit.  Can I bring it alone?  Doubtful, but we'll work something out.

And, in yet another free plug for the guys at Beach Body, Ena's husband Steve got back from Down Under about a week before I went overseas.  We showed Steve how swell it is to Bring It, and Steve jumped in and Brought It with Ena while I was gone, proving, yet again, that I CAN be replaced.  Steve likes it so much, that Steve and Ena bought another copy of P90X.  Dang!  Steve and Ena will eventually have to post a schedule to use their P90X (Bring it!) Studio.

Okay, gotta go -- the criminals have escaped and murdered the good guys, the plane has a hole in it (but Lauren plugged it up with a briefcase), the pilots are out of commission, and Lauren ("Terri") is already attempting to fly "the most sophisticated plane that has ever been built" into an "unsophisticated storm" with the assistance of ground control and a pilot busy flying another sophisticated plane.  Plus I think Ray Liotta is about to kill the mom from Child's Play (who is another, less-important flight attendant), because she knows too much.  Yep she's gone.

Red spots.

So I’m sitting here in CDG aeroport in Paris.  Just had another damn pain au chocolate (tasty croissant loaded with butter and chocolate, um, YUM), but that was my LAST one.  After this, I’m back home eating yogurt and fried rice and BRINGIN’ IT 3 days a week.  Can’t have a cup of tea, because I’m here 2 heurs avant my flight, and they ain’t no toilettes inside the gate area.  But they’ve got a nice place where you can drink yourself silly and pissy on coffee, etc.

What I need now is a big ol’ nap.  But I couldn’t lay down, even if there was a nice squishy bed in the gate area, because I’m wearing my giant red floppy French hat (because no matter how I configured it, it would NOT fit in my overstuffed luggage).  Totally inconspicuous.  But the passport guy liked it.  Am wondering whether my hat and my ass will fit comfortably in one coach seat on the flights home.

Who cares.  Had a great time in Italy and France (was technically in Spain, but won’t count that hour), but am happy to be going home.  Work is gonna suck, but looking forward to being home with my doggies in the “very dry” 110F heat.

And on a health note, my skin is still freakin’ trying to kill me.  Or at least make me look bad.  A day after I arrived in Venice, I got enormous itchy red spots all over my checks, from chin to eyes.  Definitely not middle-aged acne, and probably the Grover’s.  NO idea what caused it – was fine before and during trip over.  And I’m fine now – it got worse for a few days and then gradually improved over the last week, so that I’m almost normal now.  But everyone in Southern France now thinks I have crazy bad skin.  That’s okay, I mean, it’s not like I wanted to maybe take some photos so that I could remember this trip for years to come or anything.

Quelle Horreur!

Oops.  I checked the scales at my last stop here in Paris (you can't even see Notre Dame right behind me), and things are not looking good.  And that was before last night's large boeuf  with (what else) pommes de terre ('cuz I love my taters) and tart de citron revisitee.

Ena:  we gonna have to BRING IT when I get home, girlfriend!!

Hey, I can blog from Venice!!!

How sweet is this?  I’m finally relaxed and on vacation.  And it only took about 3 weeks of stress and four Snickers bars to to it.  So I’m sitting (alone) at breakfast this morning (because my sister and nephew were not moving when I woke up (itchy, of course) at   6:30 local time.   Arrived in the rain yesterday afternoon after about 24 hours of lovely travel.  Buy hey, I’m here.  And I’m ready to see Venice.  So they’d better get their butts up.

   Here are the favorite photos so far.Had  ginormous, delicious, expensive filet mignon with bernaise last night.  Plan is to walk ass off today in penance.  Oh, darn, will have to visit every shop in town.

Bringin It to the muscles and the fat -- is that an ab?

Bring it!  And today I really mean it.  Not sarcastically, not with crossed birds instead of arms, but really, truly, gag-me-with-a-spoon-from-the-eighties-enthusiasm.  Bring.  It.  

Because I'm pretty sure I caught a glimpse of ab in the mirror when I was getting dressed this morning.  And while I still have plenty of fat covering almost all my "muscle," that fat is definitely thinner, the thighs are less cheesy, and I'm getting some definition again.  Just, what, like three weeks into Bringin It?  So, clearly, actually working out and eating less DOES work (which I knew, of course, I just wasn't motivatin' to do it).  So I have to thank Ena for motivating with me -- there is just no way I would be doing this if it was up to me, myself and I.  Work out, or lay on the couch?  Tough call?  Nope, couch always wins.  Couch = about 6,000 and workout maybe 60 over the last 20 years.  So thank you Ena for helping me Bring It.  And kudos to the P90X program, which has actually been excellent for workin' out.   How refreshing to find a product that is well done and gives you value for your money.  If  Ena will keep workin' out with me, I will never buy another plastic-whatever that becomes a dusty clothes rack or plant stand to be Craigslisted a year after purchase.  Once we found out how to make Tony-baloney ZIP IT and play music instead, it's quite pleasant and really does the job.  Yesterday Ena and I Brought It to our shoulders, chests, and triceps, plus ripped our abs with Ab terror X.  We must have done like 5,000 push ups -- my arms were shaking as soon as we got started.  And Ena and I decided that the workouts seem like they're getting harder and we can't figure out why -- we thought the first few seemed pretty easy, and now we long for the days of Heavy Pants.  They've got like 11 DVDs in there, so maybe the later ones ARE tougher.  And I can feel it.  I can feel every one of these Bring It sessions.  But if you aren't feelin' it, it's not working, so that's good.  In fact, I felt so good about my possible ab sighting this morning, that I ran in and checked my weight on the New Digital.

Drumroll, please...............................112.6!  WITH abs!

Seriously.  I might have to stop mocking the whole Bring It deal.

So Snickers are on sale at Safeway.

Okay, I feel the need to post something, because it's been a while and I'm about to get crazy busy and then skip town.  There was no Bringing It this weekend, so I've done nothing but let my muscles heal since last Thursday.  Am relying on the new and improved muscle to burn more fat than usual.  The New Digital hasn't budged since Friday -- I have solidified at 114.4.  At least I'm not going up.

Confession: Had to buy 4 Snickers bars at Safeway the other day -- they were on sale:  buy 2, get 2 free.  You cannot ignore the get two free promotion.  But I've only eaten one so far.  I told myself they were for my trip next week.  If they make it to next week, I'll definitely take them -- I'd rather be flabby than eat some of that airplane "food."

Gotta go play catch up.

Snickers update:

Days to departure: 6, 5, 4
Stress level caused by work deadlines and trip planning: 1 bar, 2 bars
Bars to Snickers extinction: 2.5 2
Probability of Snickers survival for trip:  Not good.  Bars removed to packing area in guest room for their own safety.

Who wouldn't pay to see us do Super Banana Man?

Well, this morning I was only 114 point-something after Bringin' It and removing my heavy tennis shoes.  So I'm moving in the right direction again.  Ena and I done Brung It yet again this morning -- that's four times in the last week and a half.  As Ena pointed out this morning, it's a good thing we're not doing this 6 days a week (as recommended), because it would probably kill us.  They need a P90X for middle aged ladies who like to cuss and bitch and giggle while working out.  Someone told Ena the other day that we should stream video of our workouts and "make money" by charging people to watch.  And I'm all like "Who'd want to watch US work out?  We'd spend all our time giving refunds."  But then this morning, while we were doing "banana rolls" and "Superman banana rolls" and some other shit that I cannot remember (because I'm a middle aged lady, not 20-something), I kind of changed my mind.  It might actually be hysterical to see middle aged ladies rolling around on the floor of Ena's garage, while laughing and saying "F#CK ME!"  I might pay money to see our workout this morning, and I was there.  Like I said, there's a lot of cussing and stuff like, "What's he doing now?  Oh, shit!!"  And, of course, there's always the pre-Bring It thrash of, "Oh,  I forgot to change tennis shoes." "Oh, I forgot my water bottle."  And my personal favorite: "Where are YOU sore today?"  So maybe we should set up a web cam and stream video.  AS IF two middle-aged knuckleheads like us really know how to do that.  Hey, it's a dream.

Lemme tell you, the P90X (Bring It!) Core Synergistics was the toughest workout yet -- it worked both upper and lower body, plus about killed me with cardio, because it's HARD to work both the upper and lower body at the same time.  I felt like I got an @$$ lift from last Thursday's workout (that thing was awesome), and I can hardly wait to see what hurts tomorrow.  I've already graduated to boys' push ups at least SOME of the time, and the scab on my knee is starting to heal, so I think we're making some progress.  I also feel like my arms look better and my back fat is on the run.

Gotta go -- need to rest up for the next work out.