Saturday, August 29, 2009

After the Water Weight

Many of you have emailed with questions regarding ice box cake.  When I say many, I probably mean 1 or 2 of you tweeted me.  Possibly 3.  It's hard to remember.  I don't sleep much and I gave birth 6 months ago, so I am unapologetically still suffering from a hormone hangover.  Spell check is telling me unapologetically is spelled incorrectly.  But I googled it and it's not.  Stupid spell check.

Ice box cake is whip cream and chocolate wafers.  That's it.  And it's the type of thing that tastes even better the next day.  Or even two days later.  By the third day, it's a little stale.  But you'll be done with it by the third day, trust me.

The Ice box cake I made the other day felt like an end of a bender.  I'm trying not to obsess over the fact that there are a few extra baby pounds refusing to just disappear.  Pounds that actually AREN'T water weight, but rather evidence of a few too many Ben & Jerry episodes shared with my equally pregnant partner.  Back when we were simultaneously pregnant, that is. (what? you've never done that?) 

I'm actually going to have to DO SOMETHING in order to take off the remaining weight.  Ugh.  Seriously?

It's not even that I don't have time.  Though trust me, I absolutely DON'T have time.  These twins hand me my ass on a daily basis.

It's not even that I don't feel physically motivated.  But trust me again.  I sleep SO LITTLE I can nap standing.  I'm not exaggerating.  And I am an exaggerator.  But I'm not here.

It's not even that I don't like running or walking or biking.  Because I actually sometimes do.  Sorta.  About five minutes into it for the length of one rockin' P!nk song.

I'll tell you what the problem is.

My living room.

It's LOADED with baby "crap."  Definition of baby "crap" = exersaucers (2 of them), car seats (2 of those) Pack n' Plays (1 of those) and an 8 panel baby gate that takes up about 30 square feet in front of my TV (displayed in the photograph with only 6 panels).

It's making it impossible for me to start the P-90X program.

And the fact the program demands I take a "before" picture.  (shudder).

I'm at a crossroads in my life.  I can choose to become a fat mom who has swinging under arms, or I can pull my shit together and do the P-90X program.  The choice seems simple.

No more excuses.  But I'm not posting the "before" shot until the "after" shot.

Deal?

Deal.

-Hendo

Friday, August 21, 2009

Itch Scratched.


-Hendo

Icebox Cake

Tomorrow is my birthday. I want icebox cake. I googled it and found a recipe. It's easy to make.

I still haven't lost the last of the baby weight. So I've got this little demon on my shoulder making me feel guilty about the icebox cake.

Fuck the demon.

I want icebox cake.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Cartilage Floats...

Sandra Bullock starred in a movie called "Hope Floats." Did you see it? I'm not good at remembering specifics about movies. I just remember she was in it. So was Harry Connick. So was "Gloria"...Gena Rolands, I mean. I just googled that. Can you believe they actually remade "Gloria"? Why'd they do that? Anyway, the fact that I remember 3 of the actors from the movie is astounding. I also remember a particularly moving scene when the adorable daughter wants her daddy...none of this has ANYTHING to do with the fact that I have floating cartilage in my knee. It's just my blog title reminded me of the movie and I blogged my train of thought for you all.

Tomorrow morning I'm going for an MRI. The doctor seems to think I've got a piece of floating cartilage in my right knee. About 5-6x a day, without any warning or provocation, I get sent through the ceiling in agony because something (assume piece of floating cartilage) lands on a nerve in my knee. It's not the type of pain you can grab and rub and make feel better. It's the type of pain that decides how long it will last, how intense it will blast me, and when it will come back again. It feels a bit like what I assume electroshock might feel like. When I'm sleeping. When I'm walking. When I'm sitting. When I'm feeding babies. When I'm playing bass at my kitchen table with Nini and Cathy. Whenever it damn well feels like it. It lands. Right on a nerve. And I twitch, sometimes dramatically. Always with a vocal "ah" or "AHHH" or "AHHHH SHITTTTTTTTTT".

I will keep you posted on the results of tomorrow's MRI. In the meantime, I'm going to visualize hope floating in my knee instead of cartilage.

Hendo