B needs to get to NYC to see what all the fuss is aboot

"Empire State of Mind" is my newest fave running song. It is sick, as my younger, and much hipper, brother would say. I think that means it is bad-a**.

The Pink Jester at the Park

Rainy Day Boring Days, Can You Tell?

The Southern Version of Flint, Michigan

We just got back from a Sunday drive to Elizabeth City, North Carolina, which, in fact, is not a city at all. J warned me there wasn't much there (besides beautiful countryside- which is, obviously, something), and oh, he was right. Confederate flags everywhere! But I saw my first cotton field and it. was. breathtaking.

Tales From the Potty, I

Warning: the following story is not for the weak-stomached. STOP READING NOW if you're eating, or hungover, or both.

We've started dabbling in potty training lately. I know most people try to do it one day, as per the many books purporting to do just that, and even though I have one of those books, I just don't feel like the situation is dire just yet. So we got the doll (though she had gone once beforehand), and since then she has done something about once a day. Most of those somethings have involved sitting on the potty for 45 minutes, giving the doll water and watching her pee, and then finally going pee herself. Okay, so I know this doesn't mean she knows what the feeling of having to go is. I also know this is the goal. I'm sure we'll get there someday. (Preferably before 3, ideally around 2.) I mean, how many kids go off to college still in diapers? I'd venture to say not many, maybe even none.

So yesterday as I'm scurrying around trying to get out the door to go for a run she announces that she wants the baby to go pee. Ok, fine. I'm trying to be patient and zen about the whole thing. So we sit there, and sit, and sit, and I can see she's trying to do something but is obviously peed out. Then suddenly, she bolts up, strains for all of 8 milliseconds and as I lunged for her in what seemed to be slow motion, exclaiming, "siiitttt dooowwwnnnn!", releases, well, you can imagine. It was quite a mess. Fortunately most of it went in the potty, but not quite all of it. As I frantically tried to clean it up, I had to all the while try to be cheery and nice so as not to scare her of the whole situation. Breathing through my mouth. Yup. Good times.

Also good times is the number one heard phrase in our house these days, "yadia dooo!!!" (Translation: Nadia do it. That includes everything from putting in her own pigtails to washing the dishes.)

On an unrelated note, I've been going to Y-Change, a 6 week program full of seminars, cardio, and strength workouts. It's free to new members and as I joined the Y at the end of August, I figured I may as well take advantage of it. (And, as a new bonus, Nadia actually likes going to their free childcare.... she even tells me what she's going to do there when I bring it up, "baby and num num," ie. she plays with dolls and gets a snack. What could be better?) The class is really great and is totally kicking my bum. Not as much as those boot camps I've been hearing about I'm sure, but enough to get me out of my usual routine, ie. rut. I'm not trying to lose weight, per se, but a couple of percentages of body fat wouldn't be undesirable, especially after all of the weights I have lifted over the past 6 months.... it would be nice to see the results a little, um, clearer. I'm especially finding it useful to keep a food journal because though I'm not a terrible eater, it keeps me a bit more accountable for the excess wine, cheese, and/or chocolate, I am likely to consume in mass quantities after N goes to bed. Anyway, this lengthy report of my lifestyle improvements is to rockily segue into what I saw on Biggest Loser last night. They were learning how to eat out and still eat right and I'm all like, who goes out to eat so they can only eat steamed vegetables? Certainly not I. When I go out, I'm going out for a purpose, like, I want yummy food that is probably bad for me. Like, um, Thai or Indian curry? Yes please. So the trainers, Gillian and the other guy, also order their bitsy two teaspoons of food, and I couldn't help but imagine that they were both thinking "man I can't wait until filming wraps wo we can go out and get a freaking margarita and some real food, I'm starving!!!!" They were, after all, at a Mexican restaurant, and of course no one was allowed alcohol. But hey, I guess desperate times call for desperate measures.

What I really took exception to though, was all the food that was being sent back and one of the contestants saying that one shouldn't feel bad for doing that, that the staff wants you to do it, that all they care about it you enjoying your meal. Um, no. Having worked as a waitress and as kitchen staff, I know there is nothing more annoying. All most servers care about is getting their money and going home. All the kitchen staff cares about? Getting the meals out and NOT HAVING TO DO THEM AGAIN. Ok, sure, if there are only two people in the restaurant, maybe the cooks wouldn't mine mind broiling the shrimp after they have already sauteed them, but when it's busy....? Are you kidding me? Granted, I'm a WASP and a Canadian, so it is simply not in my DNA to put people out. I guess it's easier for everyone else. Well, good on y'all I suppose. I just hope you never have to work in a restaurant.