Dancing Without Rhythm

I am a new woman.

I joined a gym last week and today was my first day on my journey to the new me.

This is a gym with a daycare. AKA--slice of heaven with treadmills on the side.

I have 2 months to lose 15 pounds. I know that doesn't sound like much (and it's only a dent in the monstrosity of a number I need to lose) but it's reasonable and achievable so I'm going with it. Plus, this body has spent the last 3 years either actively gaining, or only losing weight that can be attributed to baby, placenta, and some water. Yeah, so this is a big change. :)

Benja has been campaigning for the last 5 days to get me to like Taco Bell. I don't know why. Everyday at least 3-5 times a day we have a conversation similar to this:
B: You like Taco Bell or not Mom?
M: Not. I don't like Taco Bell.
B: But MOM, WHY? What do you like at Taco Bell?
M: Nothing. I don't like Taco Bell.
B: Not even a hamburger from Taco Bell?
M: I'm quite certain if Taco Bell made hamburgers, I wouldn't like them---but you can't even get hamburgers there Benja.
B: I can. That's why I like Taco Bell. Do you?

Repeat above 3 times, and that would conclude ONE of our conversations about Taco Bell. It all started because last week we passed a Taco Bell and he exclaimed so excitedly, "TACO BELL, YES! TACO BELL!" From the front seat I rolled my eyes and said, "Benja, what do you like so much about Taco Bell?" He answered hamburgers, I thought that was funny and he said, "That's so funny, what do YOU like about Taco Bell." I cannot tell a lie. I understand I may lose friends over this confession---but it needs to be put out there.

I am very bothered by the makers of Bob the Builder and whoever put Sneetches on video. They BOTH use the word stupid in conversation. I am not so uptight that "stupid" is the "s word" in our house. We have one s word, I've used it, Benja used to use it, Avee probably does, I just don't recognize it, I've tried to get J to use it---it is what it is. But stupid is not a nice word, particularly coming from the sweet mouth of a 3 year old. I have overheard the word being said on B the B, but I thought I had been mistaken. I heard it again last week and I stopped chopping chicken long enough to say, "that sh*# isn't right!"

Then Benja got the Dr. Seuss video at the library (you haven't seen cute until you see a 3 year old retrieve his own copy of the book Sneetches and "read along" to the video) and there's some rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star that says something like, "Twinkle Twinkle, stupid little star" and of COURSE that's hilarious to a 3 year old. They spend days on end trying to come up with stuff that funny. Mostly it's, "Avee, you are a...a....TORTILLA head! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" so, it doesn't get too dangerous around here. Anyway, it bugged me, but I'm just too lazy to actually take this up with a one, Mr. Builder.

I know Benja will learn to distinguish between words he can hear and words he can use. But, until then, I'm probably going to complain about early morning conversations like this:
B:I'll have bunny crackers for breakfast.
M: No, that's not a breakfast food (which is a big fat lie, I know--because if I can eat ice cream for breakfast, bunny crackers are most certainly for breakfast)
B: Bunny crackers with milk?
M: Nope.
B: You're a stupid.

The conversation didn't really end there, but, out of regard for those who have DCFS on their speed dial, it ended there. Gently, lovingly, with no wet sponges being thrown at anyone's throat...

In conclusion, I would like to leave you with a couple of things I saw over the weekend that really made me laugh.

Shredded Velveeta. I've never seen it before, and I never realized I had a standard for what "shredded" should mean. It was small clumps of velveeta. In a bag. To be sold. Why is that so funny to me. I don't know.

Farm fresh eggs that were "hand picked". After reading this post I mentioned to J I wanted to try fresh eggs. He said he'd heard the same thing about fresh eggs recently and he was interested too (Yes, it really is that exciting when we talk). So we got some. While we were perusing the egg display, we were scrutinizing the labels to see which farm's fresh eggs we should try. I saw "hand picked" as one of the selling points on the farm fresh eggs. So, I started scrutinizing the mass-produced-hens-on-steroids-antibodies-and-prozac egg cartons to see what "picked" those eggs when they were ready. No dice. They don't reveal the source of their pickage. Shame.

And an article about a woman who posted "Our dogs are fed on JW's" in her yard and got the cops called on her. Not by any JW's---by neighbors! I guess it's not very nice, but dang people need to lighten up. I faced some rejection as a missionary and if anyone had been that creative, it would surely have made my work and the rejection---so much more enjoyable.

I'm off the change the world, one laundry pile at a time.

Posted by Angela on Monday, July 31, 2006 at 7/31/2006 | Permalink