Back To School Countdown

I realized I've skipped out on this blog all summer when my mom started calling two weeks ago with the countdown (in hours) to preplanning - an annual teacher ritual. I was left scratching my head wondering where all my good intentions for a hot tan went. It got me thinking about this bittersweet time of year. Shopping trips for school supplies, buying blue Bic pens by the bushel and praying my mom would finally buy me a real live Trapper Keeper. I perused the aisles of Roses and Wal-Mart for hours looking for the perfect supplies to last me through the year. Then, came picking out the first-day outfit. Probably the most important decision of the entire year. It's a defining outfit. Literally. My first day of fourth grade at a new school in Blairsville, Ga., I wore a bright orange Ronald McDonald T-shirt. I loved it and thought it was the perfect complement to my green shorts. People still remember me to this day as "the girl who wore the Ronald shirt to school the first day." This is one of the most stressful times of year for a kid (second only to the CRCT or whatever asinine test determines the future of their next grade level and, therefore, social life forever.) As the countdown comes to a close this Sunday and alarms are set for times that should be illegal, I fondly remember those days when the biggest decision I had to make was college-rule or not and does bright orange match green? Why, yes it does.

Ice Scream

Since the weather has turned warmer and spring is upon us, there is the regular jingle of pure, unadulterated joy in the air. Every evening around 5 p.m. and again around 6, the sound of what is meant to be jovial music wafts through the air. Even when it is two or three streets over, you can hear the happy tune of the ice cream truck making its regular rounds. While this is music to every child's ear, there is also something eerie about the repetitive tune. Then, you see the man behind the wheel of this fun-mobile, and a flash of uneasiness wiggles through your stomach. Never mind the cigarette hanging out of the left side of his lips, but the scowl darkening his face puts a tinge of fear in your heart. The creepy jingle mixed with the grimace on Mr. Icecreamman's face and the electronic "hello" that squeels out every five minutes is all I need to be reminded of any excuse to pass up an orange push-up pop or fudgesicle. It all just makes me want to scream.

Glue Guns and Mirrors

I love HGTV. My fingers go automatically to channel 59 whenever holding the remote. My favorite shows are the ones where people are searching for a new house - first home, or just a new house or especially an international house hunt. But I always get sucked in and am particularly fascinated by the speedy make-overs, most of which include professionals making wall art out of aluminum and hot glue. If the room is small, they create magical illusions with lots of mirrors. An entire renovation only takes two hours and most of the time is spent cracking silly jokes about how one guy holds his paintbrush. It's just good clean fun. Then, the owners are always super excited during the big reveal. If only they could hear me screaming that it's all just super glue and mirrors.

Motivation

Signing up for (running) races makes me keep running. That, and the fact that I eat my weight in sugar, candy, chocolate and did I mention sugar most days. Lately, I've gotten less interested in the fact that I'm consuming more than I'm burning off, so my back-up method is kicking in. It was that split-second decision I made on December 31 to register for the ING half marathon before the entry fee skyrocketed $20. Right now, I'm cursing that saved $20 and trying not to punch myself in the face for wasting the $60 I spent on the early bird registration. Good grief, those race weasels know me too well.

So, here I am. Approximately two months before race day and just thinking about a 5k is enough to get me sweaty and heavy breathing. This is not the first time I've put myself in this position. It's one of those sick little mind games I play just so I'll keep coming back. I'm just waiting on the day my joints and lower back finish seeking their revenge on me for doing this to them.

All that is to say, it is on like Donkey Kong. The training, the below-freezing temperatures, whatever it takes to make sure I get four safety pins and a number...and OF COURSE the T-shirt that says I ran the ING half. Cheers to motivation.

I Moved North to The South

It's a fun connection to make with people when I tell them I'm from Florida. It goes sour when I have to tell them I moved to the great state of Georgia when I was 3, so I have zero recollection of that heavily fluorided water in Tampa FL. The first time it became apparent that I was officially a Southerner was a telephone call I took from a friend of my mom's. When he called from Tampa, I politely informed him my mom was out in the garden picking "bayens." That was 25 years ago and it's still the first thing he mentions on the rare occasion I see him.

Then, there was my introduction to biscuits and gravy. Oh, that fateful day. I'll never forget the disbelief on my friend's mom's face when she found out I'd never had, let alone heard of, this Southern delicacy. While some Southern food might be an acquired taste (grits, okra, etc.) my first bite of biscuit and gravy affirmed my rightful place in Southern society.

So, when I tell you I'm from Florida it's only to see if you and I have any connection to the Sunshine State. More importantly, I was raised in Blairsville, GA a small town in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains that only makes it on the map because the temperature is always at least 10 degrees colder than anywhere else in the state. It's a beautiful place with super nice people and some of the best water you'll ever drink - straight from the tap.

Zone-ing Out

I started trying to "eat better" about 15 years ago. That day I was sitting in band class (trumpet, first or second chair depending on the day and how much Chad or Celestine were on their game) and noticed my upper thigh area poking out on both sides of my shorts. The tops of my legs were overflowing the sides of my chair and that was the first time I ever really thought I might need to eat better. I wasn't a fat girl, but I learned early in life how to put away Swiss Cake Rolls, Oreos and all types of candy bar delicacies. Every day after school I purchased a snack from the vending machine - an oasis of nutrition preserved so well I know it's still with me and always will be.

That "eating better" has carried me to where I am today. Looking up Zone recipes and trying to demystify my ever-present sweet tooth by tricking her with low calorie snacks or even tea when she flares up every afternoon. I don't believe in diets, but this Zone animal makes a lot of sense and really is just "eating better."

As I type this, I'm thinking about the dark chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter icing (all homeade) I'm making tomorrow night in preparation for game night with the neighbors. I'd punch someone in the face for one right now (not originally my quote) and cannot wait to lick the bowl. Seriously, these are the things I think about. As long as my thighs aren't hanging out of my shorts or within my peripheral vision looking down over my trumpet, I will not deny my sweet tooth the pleasure. Zone-ing out for now...

Blog Virgin

It's Friday night, I just ate Honey Nut Cheerios for dinner and Back to the Future is on. The only reason I'm sharing that is because I know no one will ever actually read this. So, is blogging like a diary where you just give the key to the world? When did we all become so "public?" Or, rather, when did we all become so egotistical to think that other people actually care about our kookiness. My personal infatuation is with reading what other people are doing. Facebook status updates rock my face off. Some call me curious, but let's call a spade a spade. I'm just nosy.

So, being a virgin at this I'm not sure exactly how long I should drone on. Michael J. Fox "Marty" just landed in 1955, so it's about to get good...