Ten Days of Chocolate
April 5, 2007

There's this Christian radio station that I like to listen to from 1-2 every weekday. They have a call-in show that's kind of like Dr. Laura, but a little less abrasive. People call in, they describe the ridiculous predicaments they've gotten themselves into, and plead for guidance. I love that! I can't tell you how much I enjoy listening to other peoples' self-inflicted troubles--it's my daily self-esteem boost. I listen and think "Oh my gosh! You freaking idiot! I would neeeevver do that!" "C'mon, what did you think was going to happen when you married a girl who never finished middle school!?" "Oooooh, ok, I've done that too...let's just get to the next caller."

Lately, I've been paying attention to the commercials on this radio station. Most of them are equally entertaining and something along these lines:

Make $100,000 a year working one hour a day from home!

Look 25 years younger in thirty minutes for only five dollars!

Grow the bushiest head of hair on your block!

and my new favorite...
Try the Ten Days of Chocolate diet and lose up to 20 pounds!

What?! The commercial goes on to tell the listener that they can eat unlimited amounts of real chocolate for ten days and lose their pesky flab. I'm sorry folks, I hate to poop the party, but there's simpy no way that this can be true. If you eat as much chocolate as you want for the next ten days you will lose one thing, and one thing only...your booty appeal to the opposite sex. In other words, you will become a broken-out-hunk-o-lard with an extra-large-side-of-saddle-bags. I know this, I've been pregnant.

I will however, let you on my own little dieting secret. Yesterday I ate a mini-bag of Cheetos. On second thought, "mini" is really not an appropriate adjective, so let me try it again. Yesterday I ate one honkin' bag of Cheetos. The bag was really deceiving. It was purchased at a Willie Nelson Bio-Diesel gas station and labelled "Big Grab." Back in my day, the big grab housed one or two servings of whatever crap it was that you were consuming--well, times have changed. This big grab had four servings of cheesy-powdered-goodness, 640 calories, and 40 whopping grams of fat! "Totally and utterly disgusting!!!" I thought.

And then I ate the whole thing.

Well, I woke up this morning, feeling fantastic. I felt even more fantastic when I stepped on the scale and learned that I had lost two pounds.

So please, don't listen to those numb-skulls on the radio. It's not the Ten Days of Chocolate diet, it's the Ten Days of Cheetos diet that'll get some results. If you would like more details about this fool-proof plan, send me fifty dollars and we'll go from there.

Oral Comps for Amy
April 4, 2007

I am a mom, and I am a grad student. These might seem like two completely unrelated undertakings, but you'd be amazed at how much my two worlds overlap.

I am finally--and thankfully--in the fourth and final year of my two-year grad program, which means I am finally--and thankfully--graduating in May. You might wonder why I have taken so long to complete this 36 credit degree, and the answer is simple. I'm getting a Master's in Public Administration and let's face it, the s*** is boring. You would have needed some diversions in your educational path, too.

As the crowning jewel of this snoring-boring degree program, I have to pass an "oral comprehensive exam." The academics call it "oral comps" for short, and I simply call it "another-test-that-I'll-cram-for-and-forget-it-all-tomorrow-anyway." But that title is too long for James to remember, so I refer to the test as "poop" when I'm talking to James. For example, "shhhh...Mommy is studying poop, " or "Mommy needs to concentrate because she needs to take her big poop soon."

Anywho, the big test goes like this...my advisor emails me eight questions related to my field of study. I learn the answers to all eight and have to answer four of the questions in front of a panel of my professors. Bottom line is this: you look way too ridiculously passionate about public administration and you get to graduate, or you look like a total and complete dumb-brain and you cry from sun-up to sun-down on May 12th. Both options have their advantages, but I'm shooting for the first one.

I finally got my oral comp questions this week and the studying has begun [sidenote: studying has consisted of me plugging key words into wikipedia and seeing if someone has already done the work for me]. I want to take this time to discuss how the real-me would like to answer a few of these questions.

Because I want you to keep reading, I have paraphrased the questions:

Q. You want to change the culture of an organization to reflect a greater commitment to citizen service. Outline two management strategies to do so.

A. Oh my gosh...I don't care! How about you hire bikini-clad super models to work at the town office and give people and order of mozzeralla sticks when they pay their taxes. That's two strategies...there ya go.

Q. Define the various forms of privatization. Discuss the conditions necessary to ensure the likely success of privatization.

A. 1) Buy mini-blinds, install them and keep them shut.
2) Wear pants when you go to the grocery store, and then keep them on the whole time.
3) When your neighbors are home, rely on silent hand-gestures to show your spouse how exasperated you are with him.

Q. Select a level of government you would like to work for as public manager (federal, state, local), outline your strategy to increase levels of citizen trust in your government agency.

A. Ok, I watch Dr. Phil--I know that people who can't trust have issues rooted in childhood. If they don't trust me, we'll hold a bake sale and use the proceeds to send them to therapy. And if that doesn't work we'll drive 'em out of town...I don't want those types in my world anyway.

Q. Illustrate and explain contrasting perspectives of equity and efficiency in U.S. society.

A. (?) I'm not even going to waste my brain power on that kind of junk.

So there you have it, my real-life answers to the oral comps. Wish me luck my friends!

Yes, I'm still *running*
April 3, 2007

Every time I get back in touch with old friends on myspace/friendster/facebook, they inevitably ask the same question… "are you still running?!" Welp, it's complicated…so if you're curious, please read on.

For those of you who don't know, I was a kick-ass runner ten years ago. I ran the mile in 5:09 and the two mile in 11:57 (for all you non-runners out there, those are fab times). I was the CT State Champ and the New England runner-up in the two mile, and I won my age group in the 7-mile Falmouth Road Race (42 minutes folks…that 6 minutes per mile). Oh the glory days!!!! I would lace up my shoes, set my watch and just run. It was so simple, and I was so good at it.

Well, time has marched on and life has changed—a lot. In the past ten years I've gotten married, adopted my husband's hyper-thyroidal eating habits, gained 15 donut-pounds, had a baby, gained and lost one hell of a badong-gadong butt, and started running again. I've noticed some distinct differences between running then and now, and I thought this would be a suitable forum to explore them.

Please refer to the discussion below:

1997-Running was natural, fun and challenging
2007-Liposuction would be a lot easier than this

1997-I felt like a Kenyan
2007-I feel like a nursing home resident who’s at risk of falling in the shower.

1997-Running required shorts, a t-shirt, shoes and socks. Sometimes I wore a watch.
2007-Running requires a membership to an on-line running forum, a membership to the YMCA, a subscription to Runner’s World magazine, specially fitted shoes from a running shop, wicking socks, a top-of-the-line baby jogger, a fully-charged MP3 player (with motivational songs like Eye of the Tiger and We Will Rock You), mace, my cell phone (so I can call friends and family and have them tell me what a good job I’m doing), running shorts with built-in underoos, a dri-fit shirt, a reflective vest (I’m a mom now—safety first), and the piece-de-resistance…a GPS unit.*

1997-I was faster than anyone I knew
2007-I’m way faster than every single member of the weight loss group for retired people that meets at the park near my apartment…suckers.

The good news is I'm still winning. I have two strategies for my continued success. First, I enter the smallest, most obscure races that I can possibly find. My chances of winning an age group award increase drastically when there are only 3 or 4 other ladies in my age group. This is how I picked up my victory in the JL Long PTA 5k last fall. It was held on a Thursday night and the field consisted of middle school kids, their parents, and me—just the way I like it.
I also scored a medal at the Too Cold to Hold 5k this past January. I woke up the morning of this race and it was 30 degrees and pouring down freezing rain—the newscasters were begging people to stay off of the roads. My first thought? "Perfect, no one is going to be there….I'm gonna get me a trophy." And I did.

My second strategy is almost as fool proof. In some races, women who weigh 150 pounds or more are eligible to register in the Clydesdale division. I have no pride; if it will score me some hardware I will take on the name of a giant work-horse that drinks beer instead of water. Hell, if it would increase my chances of winning a trophy I'd sign up for the "flabby-assed-junk-in-the-trunk-over-due-pregnant-elephant division"—fine with me. Now don't get me wrong, 150 pounds is not even close to hefty; most women are just too timid to put their weight down in writing anywhere, including a race entrance form. I generally hover between 147 and 152 pounds, so sometimes I don't make the Clydesdale cut. But you can bet your bottom dollar that the night before a Clydesdale race you'll find me eating country-fried chicken, buttermilk biscuits, banana bread and an ice cream sundae—I want to make the weight cut, so I give it my best effort.

So the answer is yes, I still run. But "running," my friends, is a relative term.

* Yes, I actually carry a GPS unit when I run. It tells me how far and "fast" I'm running. Basically, it tells me if I'm running slow-speed, really slow-speed, or you-should-be-really-embarrassed-speed. The freaking thing never stops beeping. [note: it's set to beep twice when I'm running slower than my target pace— 9 minute miles]

Do I need Ambien? Because....
March 19, 2007

I've been having some trouble sleeping lately. The typical sleep troubles--difficulty falling asleep, difficulty staying asleep, a vivid & recurring dream that my husband is walking around with a mini-pad stuck to his head, etc.

Dogs' mouths are cleaner than human mouths, right?
March 15, 2007

So I was standing around at the park this morning, chatting it up with some other hot-moms. James was running around somewhere, probably balancing on top of something tall, while I was holding Gracie on her leash (FYI: she's a dog, not a child). Gracie seemed kind of quiet, so I turned around to see what she was up to. I was a little flustered to find that her head was nuzzled into someone's jogging stroller. The flustration level went through the roof when I discovered that my pooch was licking the butter off of a waffle that was sitting in the stroller...obviously some kid's snack for later. Welp, I didn't know who the stroller belonged to and we had to leave the park. Sorry kiddo! Hope you liked your waffle....my dog sure did!