FlipSide:Starting September 24, 2001

A journal of the trials, tribulations, and triumphs in the life of a woman in the 21st century.

Today, Jodi bought herself an Almond Joy and called it "nutrition". Sorry, said I, you can't call an Almond Joy nutrition. Snack - yes, indulgence - certainly, nutrition - not. Thank you for playing. "But it has nuts! It has protein." Sorry, seeds on your salad qualifies as protein, nuts in your candy bar just makes it crunchy. (By that logic, my peanut M&Ms and peanut butter cups are veritable treasure troves of vitamins. Nuts are a good fat, ya' know. Unfortunately, I just can't convince my thighs of that.) An Almond Joy is to nutrition as chocolate filled long-johns are to a good breakfast. (Sorry John.) Kinda like ketchup is a vegetable. With all due respect to the Reagan administration (little as that is) ketchup is not a vegetable unless you eat 1/2 cup of it. THEN you may call it a vegetable.

(ed - and at a tablespoon per hamburger, that's ... uh ... a whole lotta burgers. -- jd)

Last night I was negociating with my daughter as to what vegetable she was going to eat with her supper. Her suggestion of pasta salad was firmly vetoed. She grinned. I could see the thought going through her head as clear as if she had said it, "hey, gotta try". She settled for carrots and dip. Jack, on the other hand, quite happily munched away on his salad with cheese (and yes, seeds). And the vegetable their dad ate was . . . um . . . er . . . gee, I guess I am going to have to call his mother about this one. I, the virtuous one, ate my vegetable while I was cooking dinner. Um, well, it was the nut inside my peanut M&Ms.

Okay, so I have stumbled on my road to health. But today I am turning over a new leaf. Today it is the first day of the rest of my diet. You know, I really hate that word. Even though I mean it in the sense of what I eat, not necessarily the starving, yearning, burning deprival (is that a word?) of calories of all things tasty that the word conjures up. Maybe it is from all the stupid diets I tried when I was a teenager and young adult. You know the ones. Where you had to eat certain foods in a certain order. Like I could eat all the cabbage I wanted, but I had to eat 1/2 a melon every other day. (Have I mentioned that I really, really, REALLY hate melon.) Or a banana with a slice of cheese. (Bananas too.) And anything even vaguely pleasing to the palate was strictly verbotten. Yuck.

Or maybe it is just because the word "die" is there. Whatever the reason, I absolute abhor that word. It makes me shudder to even hear it. And it is amazing how often you hear that word. Especially in the hospital. Everything is about the patient's diet. Couldn't they use a different word? They could send a person of already questionable health into some kind of shock or something just by uttering the word "diet". We need a new word. Food plan doesn't work. Too pretentious. Sounds like I should be walking around with a 3 foot thick daytimer or something. Not to mention, my life right now doesn't lend itself to planning out in detail what I am going to eat every moment of every day. I can't do that. I like to be spontaneous about what I will eat. Like today, I had a yummy dinner in the freezer, but Jane mentioned a salad and that just sounded so very good that I had to have it. I'm just not rigid enough to deny myself the salad because I already had my meal planned. Any suggestions of terms that don't suggest agony, denial, and guilt? Oh yes, the word diet also conjures guilt. 'Cause, sooner or later, I ALWAYS fall off a diet. And being Catholic, I am very VERY good at guilt. I plan to be buried with an electric fan and a really really long extention cord.

(ed - Heh. With her luck, she'll bring a good grounded cord, and forget the three-to-two prong adapter - thus be stuck carrying around an extension cord and fan all over hell. heh. -- jd)

Why are Catholics so good at guilt? Well, you see, we were born with "original sin". Kinda like when your brother painted the basement and you were there too so you got your butt beat too. That's original sin. Then there's the fact that you are going to have to go to Purgatory to burn off any sins that you committed while living. (Frankly, I think Earth is Purgagory, but that is a discussion for another time.) Then there is the guilt of missing Mass (even if it is only once a year you miss, that is still a no-no.) Then there is the fact that your parents are guilt-ridden 'cause they were raised Catholic so they will do their level best to make sure that you are just as guilt-ridden. We Catholics are big on tradition, ya' know. Well, you get the idea. We Catholics do guilt very well. In fact, life just isn't right if we don't feel guilty about something.

First off. For the record, Jodi would like it noted that tomatoes are, botanically speaking, a fruit, not a vegetable. So, being that tomatoes are the main ingredient of ketchup, it would be a fruit, not a vegetable, assuming one ate enough of it for it to count. Yet another instance where the Reagan administration was sadly misguided.

We got Jack's school pictures back last night. For once he doesn't have a funny look on his face (or bruises, assorted cuts, and/or stitches). School pictures when your kid is actually in grade school are reasonably priced. However, when said child is in preschool, the pictures are outrageously expensive. To the tune of $60 for the entire package. They will generously allow you to buy single sheets of pictures for $10 a shot. Sheese. Apparently they think you are made of money if your child is in daycare. Hell. Daycare is one of the chief reasons I have no money. For what they want for a package of pictures, I can go to Proex and get pictures of the entire family taken.

Rhiannon had her school pictures taken today. The kids are allowed to be out of uniform for picture day. So, after much discussion last night (and believe me, this kid is a fashion plate. She went through and discarded at least 4 outfits and not setting the tone.) she chose a pink long sleeve dress she got for her birthday last year. I will spent only $30 for the entire package of her photos. Poor Jack. I will buy just a few sheets of his and we will be able to practically wallpaper a room with pictures of his sister. Thank God for scanners.

Jack has waaayyy to much energy. So far tonight he has punched himself in the head, tipped his chair over at dinner, and attempted to do Jumping Jacks. (ed - as somehow differenced from the typical jumping jack. I dunno how, but she says there's a difference. -- jd) I say attempt, as he was having some difficulty coordinating bringing his arms over his head and spreading his legs apart. And yes, he did go down in a tangle more than once. Now he is trying to identify the letters on the keyboard as I type. If their are typos, you will understand why. Although I am gratified that the child can be taught and is learning a useful skill like reading, he could chose to demonstrate that skill at a more opportune (and useful) moment.

I see my husband is already attempting to make people feel sorry for him. Yes, he is being deserted. The kids and I are going to Iowa next week to help Grandma recuperate from knee replacement surgery. I can't help he has a software release and other activities and can't get away. The kids didn't want to be left behind, especially since the Sunday I would be driving back is Rhiannon's birthday. (Saturday is John's. I am amazed he didn't mention he was being deserted on his birthday. Must be saving that for when he's REALLY fishing for sympathy.) So, Rhiannon is missing 2 days school to come "help". I am not even going to use the euphemistic "help" to describe what Jack will do. "Amuse" is closer to what he will do. Annoy, certainly. Perhaps even destroy. Luckily, a friend of my mom's watches her grandchildren during the day and said she would take my kids on Thursday and Friday for a while.

On a more somber note, we received a letter from our alma mater today, the College of St. Benedict and St. John's University. It seems there were several alums at the WTC and the Pentagon. Luckily all made it out alive. However, one alum was not so luckily. But, because of him, a lot of others are alive. Tom Burnet, Jr. attended St. John's from 1981-84 and played for 2 years on the Johnnie football team. He was one of the heroes of Flight 93 that crashed in Pennsylvania. John was on campus part of the time he was. They may even have crossed paths. Sobering thoughts. I like to think that he learned some of the qualities of leadership and selflessness that served him so well on that fateful day while he was at St. Johns.

Sorry for the lack of post yesterday. John worked late and I was left with feeding the masses. Then we sat down to watch the new Star Trek series, Enterprise. I thought it was pretty good. I like the character of Jonathan Archer (Scott Bakula, formerly of Quantum Leap). He is more of a "cowboy" type, more in the mold of James T. Kirk. But the pioneers in such an enterprise (oops, sorry, pun not intended) would tend not to be the play by the rules type. It shows potential. We taped the episode since John was still at work and I didn't get to hear it all. I will have to see a couple episodes to see if it is worth tuning into.

What a lovely day at work. First, the boss took us out for a leisurely lunch at W.A. Frost. Since it was a beautiful day (temps in the high 60s to low 70s and not a cloud in the sky) we decided to walk the approximately 2 miles to the restaurant. The walk justified dessert, don't ya' know. (Don't know what justified the "hanger steak" with roasted red potatoes served over wilted spinach. Why would someone deliberately heat something until it wilts. Usually that is what I would call under-done. Either cook it or don't. Sheese.) A lovely triple chocolate something-or-other was for dessert. And they even had cherry Sprite. YUM. Probably makes this a loss kinda day for the "food plan", but, hey, ya' gotta live! Especially when the boss is buying. (Why is it everything tastes soooo much better when someone else is buying?) We left the office around noon and returned around 2:40. Then, I received an email inviting me to a little get-together for one of my coworkers who is turning 50 today. So, at 3 pm, I had a little champagne. Aaahhh, sometimes I really love my job.

Tonight is yet another trip to the grocery store. It seems like I spend half my life there. This time, however, I will have the assistance of another strong arm to corral the children. Maybe we can keep the cart upright that way.

My husband is a musical instrument. As charming as it sounds, believe me, it is much less charming to live with. You see, the instrument of choice is not his voice (although he can carry a tune) but his, well, let's just say it is a bit farther south, anatomically speaking. It seems between his new medication for his blood pressure and hay fever and his improved diet, he has begun composing a symphony of body functions. Especially trumpet.

It would seem his body is adjusting to the upgrade in fiber content in his food and it isn't quite sure it is pleased with the turn of events. The good news is, in my experience, this issue does indeed, you will excuse the expression, pass as the body adjusts to the new, healthier diet. In the meantime, the children are amused and entertained, my husband is chagrined, his coworkers are amazed at the depth, breadth and variety of sounds that are produced, and I . . . persevere.

John had a brief bout with high blood pressure before this and it came down with diet modification only. However it's back, and this time he is being treated with medication and was given a firm admonition to take off some weight and exercise, thus the new and better "food plan".

Please please SOMEBODY give me a suggestion for a better term than "diet" or "food plan". I am loathe to use the word "diet", especially as it applies to a person with high blood pressure (the word "die" being in the word and I don't want to be giving the guy any ideas) and "food plan" just implies waaayyy to much planning and aforethought. When it comes to food, the most thought that goes into John's food choices involves whether or not said food item is within his reach, will it fight back, and will someone get mad at him for eating it. Now, the guy has his moments, like at the grocery store last night. It took us a good hour longer than usual because he was reading food labels as well and asking me for a translation.

Mental Note: When making a salad for lunch, stay away from the romaine lettuce that has gotten partially frozen in the refrigerator. Just not that good when it melts. What a waste of sunflower seeds.

Apparently my son has discovered a new word. "Boobies". (Courtesy of Garrett at daycare, he tells me.) He knows what they are too. I was strapping him into his car seat last night when he says, "Boobies", with a great deal of glee. Apparently he is his father's son in some things. I asked him if he knew what boobies were. First he pointed at his chest. "No Jack, boys don't have boobies." Then he pointed to me. At which point I think his father was probably vigorously nodding his head, "yes, Mommy has BOOBIES!". John has decided he needs to clamp down and prevent the child from uttering this word, as he feels it should be verboten. Considering the things he could say, I consider boobies to be fairly mild, as long as it doesn't get out of hand. Of course, most things concerning Jack get out of hand in short order. We shall have to see.

Today I had yet more good fortune at my office. I am the happy recipient of 2 tickets to Kiss Me Kate! playing at the Ordway. The tickets are a gift from a vendor who we have dropped a great deal of money on to help us distribute the refund to our members. The performance is just a few days after our anniversary, so I am calling it an "anniversary event". A friend of ours with a daughter Rhiannon's age and an older son that Jack absolutely idolizes has volunteered (okay, maybe I begged a little) to watch the kids and even keep them overnight. YIPPEE!!!

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