SOUTH BEACH DIET
Yesterday was a normal day in so many ways....
NOW. Here's the results from this morning's weigh in:
Mr. Mary, stepping on the scales: "Wow, you really do weigh less in the morning."
Me: "Oldest trick in the book. Even better after you poop."
Mr. Mary thinks for a moment, then sighs heavily and rolls his eyes.
We found the Splenda hiding behind the Banania and Rold Gold Tiny Twists. I grab the lowfat milk, make a cup of coffee and, so the diet begins...
You know, I doublechecked to see if Cuba was even participating in the Winter Olympics. Costa Rica, you go Tropical Knits, and Jamaica are there but no Cuba. Here's their flag just in case you spot one: now, here's the Texas flag: Gee, do I see a little similarity there? Apparently, Cuba was inspired by the Texans' fight for independence from Mexico/Spain and adapted the same idea for their flag when they gained their independence from Spain.Poor Spain...
I didn't get to see Texan Chad Hedrick kick Sven Kramer's butt in the speedskating, because nooooo, NBC had to treat us to South Beach Diet-deprived Dick Button as the talking Magic 8 Ball on the figure skating pairs short program. Sorry, all you figure skating fans, but I watch figure skating much like I do the rodeo--laughing at the tacky get-ups and waiting for someone to get hurt. (It's sick but at least I admit it.)
All you figure skating lovin' knitters should check out tangodiva's blog. By the time NBC got over the throw triple axel, the dinner bell rang. Oh, by the way, Tex and Bandit inform me that Shaun White is the guy in the McDonald's commercials--not some carrot-top dweeb, apparently.
OK, I haven't really started. Hysterical laughter, shrieks of delight...Oh, just put a sock in it, will you?
Weekends here on Planet Mary turn into some kind of Spielberg induced suburban nightmare. Yes, all the little aliens come home to roost and they need attention, a LOT of it. So, there's a baseball tryout for Tex, finding someone's uniform in the dirty laundry, a basketball game for Bandit, making a postgame cookie pizza, then a Manhattan before the Last Meal, then a couple of glasses of wine with said meal and, later, some quality Dick Button. And that's just Saturday.
On top of all this excitement, a blue norther blew in and the temperature dropped, like 40 degrees, in one hour. My maternal instinct kicked in(contrary to popular belief, I always spit out my young after eating them) and I decided to finish off the sweaters that didn't quite make it for our holiday ski trip. I have 1.5 sleves to finish on the braindead topdown sweater for Tex and then I can get started.
You can take that sock out now, and don't forget the dpns!