A potpourri. Kind of the cheapy, discount kind. But a potpourri.

Lately blogging goes like this for me: "Haha, that was funny. I'm going to blog it."


Then I clean up another mess, make a meal, or two, write (or most likely revise something), read a painfully average book (by assignment, unfortunately), referee a couple of spats, think of four different activities for Grant to do, and then  . . . 


I sit down to blog. An I stare at the screen. And I go, "Wait, what was that funny thing I was going to write?"


So . . .  sorry.


The more I blog, the more ideas I have to blog about. Now that I'm a tad out of practice, the idea well has dried up. I feel like I should make a breast-feeding analogy here.


Hm. No. Let's not get breasts and blogging all tied up, and yes, you're welcome.


My toddler is riding a toy pony and pushing a toy stroller. At the same time. A couple of months ago, BAM, that would have been its own blog post somehow. Now, it's just kind of funny and also a good reminder that we need to go visit somewhere with horses so she understands the fundamentals because right now . . . she doesn't have it down yet.


But it's okay. I'll do a better job of making mental notes when something funny happens. Or interesting. Or otherwise blog worthy. But I'm also not going to stress it. Because why? I've never used this blog to make money. I don't use it as a family bulletin. I don't have any obligations to blog. I'm definitely at I-blog-because-I-want-to now, and that feels good.


And now for some randomness. I have lost six pounds now. And my BMI is officially in normal range. I am apparently no longer overweight. Thank you, raw almonds, green smoothies, and protein shakes.


Downtown Abbey totally lives up to the hype.


I still really love fairy tales.


My husband makes a mean mango and sticky rice dessert.


The board game Pandemic is fun.


I need my upcoming girls' weekend desperately.


I can't remember the last time I read a book just for pleasure. Four more books to read in the contest I'm judging and I can read whatever I want again. That's not to say that within that category there aren't some really fun books. But I have about six to-read-just-because books on my nightstand and I'm itchy to get to them.


I am craving chocolate far more than normal lately.


Grant just told me I could be Strongbad because I'm writing an email. 


The children are shooting each other with giant pipe cleaners. I just said, "Quit hitting. You can only shoot each other." I find myself making a lot of equally absurd parenting comments. And now I'm going to make more of them because the kids want to play. And I kind of want to, too. So . . . progress.

Best Diet EVER!

Sometimes I'm a natural genius, and other times I stumble across genius ideas. Either way, I'm always happy to share. Today, I've got the best diet idea ever in the history of the whole entire world. EVER!

1. Weigh yourself.

2. Eat right and exercise for two days. (Wait. Don't exercise for two days. Exercise ON each day for two days in a row, but for like, a half hour or hour. 48 hours straight of exercise is just crazy talk.)

3. Step on your scale on the morning of day three. Notice a slight dip in your weight and feel good about it.

4. Let your toddler play on the scale several times that day.

5. Weigh yourself again on day four. Do a major happy dance when you're down five whole pounds. IGNORE the fact that the toddler has obviously tweaked the scale in a way that means it should be exchanged for one that works properly. This scale is MAGIC and you must keep it forever.

Or until the five pound differential starts working against you. Whichever is first.

Surgical weight loss (which title leads thousands of Google searchers to disappointing results)

Only two of you stood up and took your lumps yesterday (my husband and Crash Test Dummy who is well known for banging her repeatedly against the same brick wall. Hello, check out her blogger ID. Just sayin'.) That makes the rest of you either very smart or big ole chickens. You may choose what you'd like to be.

In other news, I can't stop eating c**p. I'd spell it out for you but my faux MIL told me not to say that word anymore so I can't. I was riding the Eating Right Express until Family Night hit and stress knocked me off the wagon. Then I started stress eating. And all the time I had to put into planning interfered with my regularly scheduled workouts so my butt and tummy decide to just take it easy and spread out a little since they weren't being beaten into submission.

Which, you know...kinda sucks.

So I resorted to drastic measures. First, I went back to Weight Watchers on Friday even though it means losing my "Lifetime" status. I got to be "Lifetime" for about a week before the pound pendulum swung the wrong way so it's possible I haven't really internalized all those concepts I was supposed to learn yet. Like "don't keeping putting c**p in your mouth, you moron." Or, "If you do, make it SMALL portions."

Secondly, I went back to the gym. And you know, did more than loiter and make people in the locker room uncomfortable. I pushed some weights around and showed the elliptical trainer who's boss. And then, just as a sure fire way to make sure I kick this ten pound losing spree off the right way, I added a fool proof element to the mix.

Surgery.

You've seen all those commercials for the lap band and gastric bypass and liposuction?

Well, I'm getting my wisdom teeth out on Friday. That's WAY more hard core because it's IRREVERSIBLE, not like those lap band pansies. Once those teeth are out, they're GONE and they ain't coming back. I figure the enforced soup diet for the first few days ought to knock out at least the first five pounds for me. And it will only cost a mere $1200 out of pocket. Which seems like the expensive way to get hold of some Darvocet, but whatever.

So I'd refuse to blog but previous interaction with prescription painkillers has taught me that NOTHING can shut me up when I'm under the influence, so I expect I'll come wander through some of your blogs this weekend and babble. How fun for all of us.

A few numbers

I have this cool blog post idea that's bouncing around in my head. For days, I've been meaning to write it but stuff keeps coming up. The huge fundraiser I'm in charge of at James's school is eating into all my time. You know, time I normally use to do stuff like sleep, eat, and oh...breathe.

Then there's my self-imposed writing deadline. I wanted to finish my manuscript before the LDS Storymakers conference next week and my goal is 75,000 words. I'll definitely finish that, which is wonderful, but it turns out my story isn't done yet. I'm guessing I'm going to end closer to 85,000 words. And so I'm trying to decide if I can balance extra writing against all these PTA responsibilities I have.

And then there's this lovely weird tummy thing I have going on today. It is the oddest bug. I'm thinking it's a virus or something but any time I'm upright, I feel like puking, and no matter what, I have these sharp cramps in my upper G.I. tract. I wonder if it's an answer to a prayer.

Freeze. Don't get all excited. I don't have an announcement.

Hang with me here. See, we're starting to think about the next kiddo. And so I've been praying about it, because I'd love another kid but I want to make sure it's the right time. (Like there is such a thing). And every time I pray that prayer, I soon end up having some random sleepless night that reminds me of the misery I had with my last pregnancy when I went days at time without more than two hours of sleep at a time. And I'm not so pleasant when I don't sleep. Or like today, I have this awful nausea that reminds me of the vague sense of carsickness I experienced through that same pregnancy.

And the thing is, I'm willing to deal with the physical discomfort. I realize people have far worse pregnancies, but my last one was tough for me. Even then, I wouldn't think twice about another baby, but now I have two kids already to think about and what good I'm going to be them if I'm an exhausted, ill mess. I had to call my husband home early today because I just had to lay down to fight the puketasticness.

So, here's the deal. I'm going to build a slight cushion into my decision. I already weigh ten pounds less than when I got pregnant with Baby G, but I think I'd like to drop just ten more pounds. The number that drops me to is part of the post I keep saying I want to write, and I will, but the idea that unlocking that number can mean I'm physically more prepared for another baby is pretty exciting.

But here's the other thing. Emotionally, I think I already am prepared. So maybe that weight is just going to stay some number, one to wave at from a distance with a much smaller number of pounds cradled in a soft baby blanket in my arms.

Hm...

I'm not asking for advice. I think me, my husband and Heavenly Father can figure that out.

I'm just writing to say that PTA is stressing me out, I don't feel so good, and I'm a little baby hungry. Just another day at the Jacobson house.

You are SO gonna get it, Charrette

Thank you for all of your comments yesterday. You people are very nice.

I am making a last minute change to my post topic today, because I need to make an announcement.

**************************

CHARRETTE is in A LOT of trouble. She dropped by my blog yesterday and threw out this comment urging me to try candy cane joe joes. And I did. You know what those are? They're the Trader Joe's brand of Oreos but the cookie cream has candy canes crushed in them.

Wanna know what happened?

I ATE THE WHOLE BAG. Almost by myself.

You are so going to get it, Charrette. Maybe next time I'm in Utah, I'll ding-dong-ditch your house and leave five pounds of chocolate covered cinnamon bears on your doorstep.

Mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-HA!

I am very susceptible to the power of food suggestion so nobody else better throw out any good ideas.

Penance for publicly whining

Do you know what happens to a girl who is blessed to take an awesome Alaskan cruise and then has the gall to whine about the sub-par buffet selections? Do you?

She gains seven pounds in two weeks. Ha! ha! ha! ha!

The following section contains a bunch of swear words that I would say if I still remembered how to swear except I don't because I'm too virtuous for that anymore: #^#&(*#__)#Q27@^$(^&%^%!$^&()(#%^$&#*#)$@&@$_%*$*56@@*##(%&#%#&()#@@&!*##$*&$#()$.

That's what I get. I sure told me.

So the counterattack begins. Gym everyday (I'll be seeing you soon, personal trainer/Spanish Inquisitor Zeb), healthy cooking (must buy stock in Jennie O turkey), and my favorite: rewards!

I pick:

2 pounds: Yo Yum Yum frozen yogurt, with mochi balls!
5 pounds: Yo Yum Yum and a manicure/pedicure
7 pounds: Yo Yum Yum, a new shirt, and we can eat out once
9 pounds: Yo Yum Yum
10 pounds: Shoes or an outfit

Is it bad that most of my weight loss goals include food? That's probably not how it's supposed to go. &%$*#%^!

I don't care! I get a frozen yogurt treat every time I lose two pounds and who's going to stop me? Oh, and don't tell Zeb. He's big and scary and will glower at me from beneath his unibrow and the frozen yogurt will taste like dirt if he knows I'm eating it. Shhhhh.

Off I go to eat my instant oatmeal because a half pound of crisp bacon from the cruise buffet every morning? Bad idea.