Thursday, July 31, 2008

Inside Out

It was a rainy day
But outside the sun is shining
I’m chilly
But it’s 106 degrees
I’m having a hot cup of coffee
And my ice is melting
I have days and days
Fifteen minutes have passed
Leaves are falling
The palm trees sway in the breeze that
Is so cold I can hardly stop shivering

The summer is
Fall and I’m home
For the first time.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

No Relief

I am not an avid sports fan by any means. But baseball is one of the few professional sports that I can watch and understand. I enjoy going to games and I can even watch it on TV. Ingrained in my blood is a loyalty to my home team, the St. Louis Cardinals. Despite my variety of homes, the Cardinals are always the team I root for. If I’m flipping channels and passing baseball news or a game, I’ll pause to see if the red birds are on. Because of my loyalty to them, it is required that I hate the Mets and the Cubs. Living in Chicago, I could have gotten killed for wearing any type of Cardinal gear. Nick suggested we become Cubs fans while living there. I said it was absolutely out of the question and should he feel the need to suggest it again, I’d file for divorce (ok, not really but it’s a serious offense!). While I was in the hospital delivering Ivy, the World Series was on. I don’t remember who the Cardinals beat in that series, but it doesn’t really matter. As I sat in my room waiting for serious contractions, I turned on the TV.

“Ooh, the baseball game is on.” I said to the nurse.

“Are you a baseball fan?” She asked.

“I’m a Cardinals fan.”

She frowned. “Honey, you are in the WRONG town.”

Similarly, when I visited the New York area earlier this year, I went into a gift shop with my boss looking for a souvenir for Nick. She suggested I get him a Mets hat. I politely reminded her that Mets are pond scum—the mantra we chanted as children.

This is the extent of my baseball following. I admit, it doesn’t go very far, but it’s there nonetheless.

This past Sunday was Make-A-Wish day at Chase Field (where the Diamondbacks play). Everyone in the office got two free tickets, so we decided it would be fun to go—which it was. Ivy was a great sport—clapping when everyone else did and eating ball park nachos (sadly, they did not have veggie dogs.). The home team was in the lead all the way up to the ninth inning—4-1 against the Dodgers. To wrap up the game as a sure fire win, they bring in the relief pitcher. This guy (Brendan Lyons or something like that) comes in to growling and a song I don’t remember—lots of heavy fanfare. Well why not? He’s going to bring it all home for us.

Three outs later, the Dodgers have picked up four runs! FOUR! IN THE NINTH INNING!!! What the heck?! What kind of relief pitcher gives it all up in the NINTH INNING? It really shouldn’t surprise me. I’ve seen it all before in San Diego. Nick and I went to a Padre’s game before we moved to Chicago. They were playing the Giants and in a similar fashion, were winning throughout most of the game. It was a sure victory. But just to be safe, they bring in the relief pitcher, Trevor Hoffman. He walks in to flames and Hells Bells blaring through the stadium. I’d heard plenty of hoopla about Trevor Hoffman, though in the few games I’d paid attention to, he’d yet to impress me. Well, here I was going to see it first hand. Ok, get ready. He’s gonna bring hell to the batter in the form of a baseball!

Not so much. I don’t remember how many runs the Giants scored in that final inning, but it was more than enough to win them the game. So much for the relief pitcher. Relief for the other team maybe. Oh well. If I were a serious sports fan, I’d be REALLY mad.

Friday, July 04, 2008

The Secret to Weight Loss

I know the secret. I know... It so simple and yet so...contradictory. But it's true. I know it! The secret to the most often asked question particularly among women: What do I have to do to loose weight? Well, let me just tell you...because I KNOW!

Here it is. Get ready. It's not eat less or exercise more. It's way easier and less time consuming than that. What is it? I'm going to tell you...


Yes, that's it! Sorry men, you're out of luck. You'll have to stick with your higher metabolisms and ability to just eat more. I feel no sympathy for you. Yes, I have simply lost 12 pounds and 2 pants sizes in 22 weeks. People usually assume I have dreadful morning sickness. While I did for a while, it's long gone. Well, you must be taking better care of yourself. No, I don't think so. As you know, I'm obsessed with food altogether and have been for some time, not to mention a rigorous worker-outer. Those things have not changed. I still drink coffee, though I've given up on going black. I like to think that I'm just more efficient. It makes total sense if you think about it. My metabolism is way up. Sure I'm hungry all the time, but it takes a lot less to fill me up. I smell everything and sometimes that's enough to keep me from eating.

Really, I have no idea why I'm shrinking everywhere except my tummy. The doctor says she's not worried, so I'll just not question and be thankful. It can't last forever. At some point, I'm bound to gain. Until then, I'll just keep sporting my pre-pregnancy clothes that are now too big!