Away We Go (not the movie)

With the back of the Good Cat packed near to bursting and my metaphorical loins girded (I say metaphorical because in reality I don’t think I have the girdable kind, and yet I think I am psychologically ready to vacation without eating, say, Florida...) I am heading to visit my mother-in-law for a couple of days, and then on to the beach.

I got an email from Anonymous Friend (she of Goosey Goosey Gander Euphemistic fame) on the subject of Cheetos, which, in her lexicon of treats, are better than homemade rum cake. She believes the gods on Mount Olympus had powdery fingers stained the color of sunrise when they finished supping on their “Ambrosia.” She didn’t want to enter the contest because, you know, she is my FRIEND and if the gods of Random picked her it would be awkward---but she did want to pass along HER tip for heart healthy living:

Three days ago I took a snack pack of Cheetos in the back room, sucked every last atom of orangey goodness off each one, and then fed them to the dog.

HEE! Thanks! That’s a great tip, but I doubt the AHA would recommend it. It’s like...eating Morton’s. I wonder what the fat/calorie count on a Cheeto is when you don’t eat the ACTUAL Cheeto. Also, I suspect that leads to a Very. Gassy. Dog. My favorite part of the story is the CLANDESTINE nature of the Dog/Cheeto/Girl rendezvous. It’s a back room deal for sure, destined to remain secret because (sadly) Cheetos did not return from this assignation. And you KNOW the dog is not telling.

In further Questionable Nutrition News, Orla sent this link to a Florida news story about a woman who tried to SUE Cap’n Crunch (Yes! She sued the good Cap’n!) for duping her when she learned that his CRUNCH BERRIES are not an actual fruit. For FOUR YEARS she scarfedthe “berries” down, thinking she was getting one of her five-a-days. Poor lady. Truly, I blame Pepsi, the parent company, because they are tricksy hobbitses at Pepsi, and not to be trusted. I say this because I ate the blue pill, Nemo, and am thoroughly enslaved to Coco-Cola via a combination of well-targeted marketing, geography and the superior flavors of diet Cherry Coke.

My favorite part of the story? Down at the bottom it says, “The judge also noted that the lawyer in the case had previously been denied an attempt to sue Froot Loops.” Because, you know, CLEARLY FROOT refers to a real fruit, or a bunch of them, perhaps a pear-banana-crunchberry hybrid. *sigh* I wish to bring a class action lawsuit against that lawyer, actually, for wasting taxpayer money and being a weasel.

Don’t forget you have until MIDNIGHT EST to enter the contest to win a Better U, Better Me Kit. As per YOUR advice I am taking my FANCY red yoga mat with me to the beach and shall run my OWN boot camps, alone if I must, instead of just cardio-swim-walking-snorkeling.

Better tUesday: Motivational Goodies and My Future Doom (contest!)

My friends at the AHA want to hook you up with MOTIVATIONAL GOODIES in the form of a Better U, Better Me Kit with a retail value of more than fifty bucks. Look, it’s full of win:

o Super-cute tote bag for the gym
o BPA-free water bottle
o Go Red Grocery Guide to help you make heart-healthy choices at the store
o Go Red yoga mat
o Our signature red dress pin
o Heart-healthy snack, Craisins

Want one? I have two to give away. To enter, just leave your best tip for heart healthy living in the comments. I would especially LOVE some new healthy recipes (or a link to a recipe), even MORE especially, healthy crock pot recipes... I am getting bored with our usual dinners. If you HAVE no recipe and are tip-stumped, you can steal one of mine. Just cut and paste one of these:

---Take the stairs instead of the elevator.
---Try thin-sliced avocado instead of mayonnaise on your sandwich.

Just leave your tip in the comments before MIDNIGHT eastern time Thursday, July 2, and we will let the cruel and jaundiced gods of random decide who gets these cool things. The detailed rules are a click away, blatantly stolen from WANT NOT.

This week and the next are going to be HIDEOUSLY challenging because on Thursday, I leave for our annual beach vacation. I meet my WHOLE family there, all ten of us, so I only do 1/3rd of the grocery shopping. We plan to do a LOT of really fun things---rent a pontoon boat, see the Blue Angels practice their air show, long dawn walks on the beach, swimming, fishing, body surfing, snorkeling, so keeping my activity levels high is built in. BUT!

A huge part of this family vacation is ALWAYS the food. My sister in law makes her Satanic Chicken Enchiladas featuring about 213 types of cheese, I usually make a white chili that is as smooth as velvet thanks to a fat content equal to what’s found in your average chunk of whale blubber, my mother brings her famous cheese cake, my FAVORITE pecan rum cake and a triple chocolate cake she primly calls “Better Cake” because the real title on the recipe is “Better Than Sex Cake. “

It’s a decadent week. There are Cheetos in the pantry, and Chocolate Pop-Tarts, and Cap’N Crunch Cereal. WITH Crunchberries. Things that NEVER cross my threshold at home. All the time, they are there. Sometimes, we get crazy and have WINE WITH LUNCH like a buncha debauched Roman senators.

We go out to eat at a place that might as well be called FRIED UP HARRY’S CORONARY HOUSE OF GIANT PLATTERS. The portions there---one Captain’s platter could feed a pride of lions, and the Admiral’s platter could make every lion need some plop plop fizz fizz. You can get any kind of fresh seafood you want on these platters---shrimp, scallops, clams, fish, crab claws... but they all come fried. OR, if you really really really do not want anything deep fried, they are happy to “broil” you some shrimp and scallops. I put broil in quotation marks because they use that word to mean “completely submerge shellfish in melted butter and apply heat.”

I’ve never escaped from Beach Week unscathed by a few gained pounds, but I really want to try this year. If I can BREAK EVEN, just not GAIN any weight, I will call it TOTAL MORAL victory. Here are my goals this week, which have to change as I will not be commuting back to Georgia for six hours to attend boot camp four times a week.

---Continue to use WW to CHART everything I eat, even if it horrifies me. I read on the forums over there recently, “If I wasn’t supposed to EVER eat it, WW wouldn’t give it a POINTS value.” SO if I CHART, I will KNOW if I am splurging reasonably or if I have completely jumped the shark.

---Continue with my policy of FRUITS AND VEGGIES FIRST. Fill up on salad and fruit as I begin my meals, and THEN indulge in some Julie’s enchiladas, so the portion of SUPERFAT YUMMMMINESS that I need to feel full is smaller.

---Three Boot camps this week before I leave, and then a combo of beach walking/active swimming for at LEAST an hour every day. (This is going to happen without me even trying, I suspect. I love body surfing and snorkeling to see fishes and stuff, and I walk the beach at dawn ever day. It’s deserted then except for a serious fishermen like Mr. Nguyen. Remember him? And last year’s MORTAL DANGER? and I get to see the herons and all the little silly-footed panicky water birds and pelicans and one year I went swimming at 5 am and raninto a little pod of dolphins who parted and swam around me...love it.

---DO NOT EAT THE POP-TARTS. If I am going to splurge – and I AM, Best Beloveds---I will blow the calories on RUM CAKE, which is homemade and tastes like my childhood and which I can’t GET anywhere else. I will NOT waste calories on a sugary slab of petroleum by products that has less nutritional value than the BOX it came in. I WILL NOT. NOT EVEN ONE.

And while we are on the topic of deliciousness, my reward, if I do this all, will be to go to the theatre and see DEPP AS DILLENGER a week from Thursday.

LISTEN, in the comments, for your entry, if you have a tip for surviving vacation eating, THAT would be SO helpful. I recalculated my BMI today as part of week 5. It is 25.5, down from 26.5. 25 or less is considered a healthy BMI, and I am .5 away. I have lost over an inch and a half in my waist, and am down 7 pounds and change. I so do not want to blow it!
But I am weak, I am weak, I am weak, and the siren song of the Cheetos is MIGHTY.

BETTER Shut It (A Better U Rant Against Mean People)

Disclaimer: I am not putting up the Better U logo because I am MAD and about to use bad language that the AHA may not wish to be associated with, i.e. Buttmunch.

Jennifer in Comments said, “I have been officially DEMORALIZED. And, therefore, hiding under the bed. I went to a doctor (NOT about my weight, or eating habits; about a SLEEP issue!!!) and he asked me "are you happy with your current weight?" Naturally, I said no, and began to explain the BetterU program, my goals, what I have been doing, etc, etc, INCLUDING how I have lost 11 pounds and 4.5 inches (overall). He interrupted me to inform that I was NOT in a SUPERVISED program (and therefore a very inferior one), then gave me a quick up-and-down with a jaundiced fisheye, and said, "I recommend that you see a nutritionist, because obviously what you are doing is not working."
•
• Chicken biscuit? Oh, #%&*@# NO!!!
•
• Pizza and chicken wings, anyone? Since 11 pounds and 4.5 inches is FAILURE, and I lack the nerve to point at a man with an M.D. behind his name with the BAD finger, I have been taking my anger out on myself in the form of carbs and fried proteins.
•
There are FIVE things to remember, here, Jennifer, and everyone else who has run into a set back, be it in the form of a mean person derailing you, a unsupportive person trying to tempt you to skip the gym and sit on the sofa and eat bonbons because if YOU change they might have to as well, or someone being HATEFUL and saying you are doing it wrong or not good enough because you are not doing it THEIR way.

The first and most obvious thing is, that doctor is a buttmunch. And people like that doctor belong to the buttmunch tribe. We belong to a different tribe and they do not control us.

The second thing is, no one program works for all people, even though ALL fitness programs are essentially the same thing. ALL fitness programs that WORK are merely different packagings around a couple of core ideas: Commit for a lifetime to better eating habits, learn portion control and find a physical activity that you like enough to make a near daily part of your life.

ALL GOOD PROGRAMS that are good for you and not FADDY crap that hurts you more than it helps are basically THIS. But the packaging MATTERS. For example, I HATE anything supervised and MEETINGY – I am NOT a joiner. I am terminally bored and unhappy at WW meetings, but I LOVE WW online. Some people like Yoga, but the whole being STILL and QUIET part with the chimes makes me want to put a knife in my eye. I am a BOOT CAMP kind of girl. I like yelling and running up and down stairs. Heck, some people like to Deal-A-Meal while sweatin' to the oldies. The package does NOT matter. The CHOICES are what matter---put those choices in ANY package you like, and go for it. BetterU works for me because it is SHORT TERM GOAL ORIENTED and VERY self-directed. I LOVE setting my own goals and rewarding myself. It is ALSO working GORGEOUSLY for Jennifer. If it doesn’t work for you, NO PROBLEM! Find what works, and do it. Your body deserves to be taken care of, because you live in it, and it is you.

The third thing is, the reason week four was all about finding a support system is because of buttmunches. And who is a buttmunch? (Hint: see the first and most obvious thing.) You must not let the Buttmunches GET YOU DOWN. The best revenge is notnotnot EATING FRIED MEAT AND CARBS. That only hurts you and PROVES THE BUTTMUNCH RIGHT. Do not prove the buttmunch right by abandoning a package that was working for you just because he is what he is. And what is he? (Hint: rhymes with Duttmunch.)

The fourth thing is, The best revenge is sticking with what WORKS for you, losing the weight, lowering your cholesterol and triglycerides and blood pressure, getting your waist under 33 inches, getting more stamina, feeling great and lookin’ good, and then calling him up and asking his desk staff to please pass on a message, and the message is, of course, the politest form of
“DEAR SIR,
YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO SUCK IT.
LOVE,
ME”
that you can manage.

The Fifth thing to remember is, a feast of angry chicken and biscuits does NOT undo four weeks of work, 11 pounds, and four and a half inches. People who succeed at getting in shape are the NOT the ones who never fall off the wagon and land face down in a quart of Edie’s Grand Fudge Ripple. Everyone does that sometimes. The people who succeed in the long run are those who say, “OH WELL YOU KNOW I ate that fudge ripple *burp* and look, all I feel is bloated and weepy, and now I am going to climb back on the wagon, make myself my FAVORITE most expensive and delightful healthy thing for dinner – CEVICHE anyone? And put it all behind me.”

SO that’s what you need to. You ate the chicken. Oh well. That was THEN. This is NOW. What are you going to do NOW? Eat more fried chicken, or take the dog for a nice walk and have some fruit? CHOOSE B! We are all rooting for you to choose B. Especially the dog, who feels strongly that there are many fascinating messages in urine to decipher, if only you would just take him.

Also, there is a thing six that showed up in comments.
Rachel said: I bet he is a sleazebag who gets some kind of $ kickback from nutritionist referrals.

I bet she is exactly right! He brought the topic up, ignored your success, and tried to refer you to his own guy -- there was somethign in it for him. That doctor is SUCH a buttmunch.

Because I am CLassy Like That

Dear Men,
Please go away today. THANKS. I LOVE you guys, you know I do, but this is a lady post for ladies. Love you! Come back tomorrow! I will discuss FISHING! Or Boobs! All that stuff you like. But not today.
Shoo,
Joshilyn

Dear Commenting Best Beloveds,
Please, Tread carefully! Speak gently, and strictly in euphemisms. You know, for all I write some ....let’s say, VISCERAL, shall we? VISCERAL books, (and some might say GRAPHIC. Some might even say EXPLICIT. Some might even say GRATUITOUS but I sniff disparagingly at Those Particular Somes and say, “I had my reasons...”) Even so, I am personally quite prudish. I feel this post is borderline, but I am erring on the side of RISK and *cough* PUBLIC SERVICE, so I am ditching propriety.
With pursed mouth and a total willingness to disappear comments,
Sister Mary Evangeline Joshilyn

Dear Little Children,
Go away! Come back in 5 to 15 years, when you are a teenager or a grown up person. If you wandered in by accident, let me suggest you go HERE instead. You will like it.
Love,
Miss Joss, Former VBS Recreation Director and Veteran Sunday School Teacher

OKAY SO...I sent the following email to several friends:

Hey Ya’lls, Do you think I can blog this or is it too risqué and maybe oversharing:

Scott: Good LORD, woman. Suddenly, Toilet Man seems like a GREAT job title.

MY FAVORITE RESPONSE to “Can I blog this” was from Anonymous Friend. She said:

Yes, you can blog it. I hate the CV though. I had to see mine last week. I refer to my appointment rather obliquely by quoting "Goosey, goosey gander, whither do you wander" (upstairs, downstairs, in my lady's chamber).

Did you know that Injection Nurse is an actual job title??”

Holy non sequitur, Batman! But SUCH a welcome subject change. Now I am asking, DID you know Injection Nurse is an actual job title? I am horrified beyond all imaginings.

And now, I justify my tacky blog entry and lack of discretion! Pay no attention to the little man behind the curtain...watch instead my waving hands as I turn what could have been a SERIOUS breach of propriety into a public service announcement:

I only REALLY posted this risqué overshare to, uh, ENCOURAGE all ladies over 40 to call YOUR CV and schedule a mammogram! It is the right thing to do. If you are in your thirties, a baseline mammogram taken NOW can really help a tech spot changes EARLY, and early detection = WIN. CALL TODAY!

Peace out.

We Interrupt This Blog to Wet Our Pants (In a ladylike way, of course)

Oh hi.

The Girl Who Stopped Swimming just made the 7/7/09 New York Times Bestseller list.

This is my FIRST time to ever ever ever get even a toehold there. I am just...fancy. I am fancy.

Dear EVERYONE at Grand Central who read the manuscript and said, OH YES I LOVE THIS let's make it a lead title and get the cover JUST right and make sure the handsellers know about it and sell it to the Germans and spread the word,

Dear beautiful Handsellers who read the ARC and and the hardback and liked it enough to want to put it into the hands of readers and say, THIS ONE, YOU WANT THIS,

Dear Dear Best Beloveds who bought the book for themselves and their moms and siblings and best friends, who chose it for their book clubs, who talked about it with their friends and on their blogs and facebook pages and who liked it enough to go on review sites and say so...

Thank you.

The only thing, THE ONLY THE ONLY THING, that gets a book into the hands of readers is word of mouth. The only thing that works is...ya'll. The folks listed above, who read it and liked it enough to want to share it.

This is just a very good day for me. Because of you. Because of you. Because of you. Thank you SO FREAKING STINKING WEEPING CHAMPAGNE DRINKING MUCH.

Picture Pages Part Whatever: A Blog in Images

First off, I have to give a shout out to my peeps at Barnes and Noble West, in Madison, Wisconsin. Led by Fearless Jeanne, these SEXY BEASTS have chosen THE GIRL WHO STOPPED SWIMMING as their hand sell title for July, and can I just say, WISCONSIN? REALLY?

Thank you SO MUCH for dipping the landlocked toes of Wisconsinites into my ghost infested murderous Southern waters. Or well, not landlocked. You guys have some LAKES up there I heard? *grin* I kid, I kid – I lived in the Midwest for seven years, and loved it, but eventually the snows drove me home... I am having a bit of a Sally Field obnoxious THE MIDWEST LIKES ME me moment, but do not worry, Jeanne and co, I am going to TRY to refrain from driving straight north to kiss every blessed hand-selling one of you on the lips.

NOW ONTO THE PICTURES. The first one is titled: That Irony, It Is So Ironic...

Just after I lost my entire AHA international spokesmodel crap-bucket over eating a FRIED fast food breakfast item, and just after my husband comforted me by saying, “Honey, stop. You didn’t eat a BABY,” I go to Kira’s blog, and learn that Mir DID. She totally ate a baby. And yet she still wears size four pants. I KNEW I should have chosen to eat a baby over that wretched chicken biscuit.

This next pic is titled: Fan Girl HOLLAHHHHH!

It is MY book sitting next to a TANA FRENCH book in a Texas Airport. My book is sidling over to Tana French’s book, clutching a note that says, “I like you! Do you like me? Please check one ____yes ___no ___Maybe I have not read you yet.” My book wants to hold hands.

This next photo is called: FREE TO GOOD HOME OR LABORATORY TESTING FACILITY

May we discuss BOGGART for a moment. My SCUMBAG auxiliary cat. As you may recall, this is The Year of EVERYTHING BREAKING AT THE SAME *&#(*@#)&# TIME. Our material possessions have decided to band together to try to get us---the original DEBT-O-PHOBIC Dave Ramsey FREAKS---- to accumulate WHOLE HERDS of crippling loans, and they intend to continue to suicide and explode and melt and die in spectacular unfixable ways until that goal is met. THANKS MATERIAL POSSESSIONS!

We already had to replace, in the last 6 months, 2 cars whose repairs would be more than double their value, 2 unfixable melted-hard drive computers, and THREE “we are going to stop flushing to protest the war” toilets. NOW the AC has died---right at the FRONT of a Georgia July, when the afternoons are about 98 degrees ---- and died in such way that the REPAIR would cost more than HALF what the replacement would cost. And all the guys we have out to look are saying the system is 17 years old, and the repair could last a couple of years...or a couple of weeks. NO way to know. SUPER.

How does this relate to the Buttheaded Cat Demon I FEED and allow to poop in a box in my house? Well, you know, my issue with him is that he won’t let me PET him. He ignores me, and hurts my feelings, and rejects me. We have had 4 different Air Conditioner guys come by to give ESTIMATES, and BOGGART has cooed and purred and made Bbbbrrrrrtttting noises and pressed against the legs of EVERY ONE OF THEM. I offered to pack him up in a sack, paper or plastic, their choice, to take along, but all declined. Curses.

To add insult to injury, Scott lay down to read in the baking oppression of our un-air-conditioned sweltering living room...and LOOK WHAT HAPPENED:

He’s never done that before, and Scott was so flummoxed he whipped out his phone and documented the moment, lest when he told the story, I decided to have him drug tested for hallucinogens. Bog has NEVER snoogled with a concious me, NEVER, though I am the girl who drove 2 hours to the Alabama state line to SAVE HIM when a small shelter posted a Craig’s List add saying they would have to put down 42 kittens the next day if someone didn’t come get them. Scott says Bog only did it because it’s SO HOT that the LAST thing anyone wants is a heat-emitting furry object coating ones legs like an alive electric blanket with a gas problem. Also, Boggart pointed the tooting end at Scott’s face. So. Seen in this light, it is a bit more in keeping with his general behavior.

Last pic is called: And Now I Have Arrived.

This KILLED me. I had a library date in Gadsden. A few weeks before I went, the library sprung a BUNCHA roof leaks, and they packed up and temporarily moved to THE GADSDEN MALL. They call the branch “The Mallibrary.” It was cool – I spoke in a big open hallway in front of a department store. We had a good turn-out, and several people who had not come on purpose got caught up in passing and sat done and listened and then went down to the way-cool Gadsden Books-A-Million (they were so nice to me there) to give one of my books a try. YAY.

On the way out of the parking lot, I saw that for the first---and probably last---time in my life, I was on A MALL MARQUEE. Like, in between the Sear’s sale announcement and the TIME AND TEMP. The last line of the message was still UNFOLDING when I took the shot (you know how they animate those messages) but it is readable. HEE! I AM A FEATURED MALL ATTRACTION. Like Dip-N-Dots.