Babybel cheese, part two

Tori Spelling speaks the truth.

Recently, when I was watching Tori and Dean, Tori said when she was a kid and used to eat these delicious wax-covered medallions of cheese, she would use the wax to make fake fingernails.

There's not enough wax there to make a set of fingernails, I thought.

With my last cheese wax, I conducted an experiment. As you can see, there is in fact plenty of wax to make fake fingernails, and I even had a bit left over.

the laughing cow

what the Pastor had for dinner:
potato salad
baked beans
bar-b-q animal flesh
gallons of bar-b-q sauce
texas toast
real soda

what the Pastor had for dessert:
ice cream
hot fudge

I also saw him eat part of a brownie, and exclaim he couldn't eat it because it was "too sweet" only to take another bite of it. A brownie from the batch of brownies I made last night and haven't even tasted.

And did I mention nothing was sugar-free, fat-free, low calorie and he didn't measure a single thing with a a measuring spoon, cup or scale?

what I had for dinner:
ice water with lemon

what I had for dessert:
ice water with lemon

what I did after my delicious dinner and dessert:
walked on the treadmill for 45 minutes

what the Pastor did:
read a book

After my workout, I joined the Pastor on the couch with a single Babybel light round of cheese - 50 calories of happiness for the evening, wrapped in red wax.

I sat down on the couch.

The Pastor said, "Can I have a bite?"

youhavegottobekiddingme

So I recite to the Pastor every morsel of food he has put into his mouth today. It's not difficult for me to do, as I am the one who so lovingly prepared it for him.

He still takes a bite of my cheese.

Then he says "I'll take one of those."

youhavegottobekiddingme
youhavegottobekillingme

It was the last one.

The worst part . . . I still probably won't make my Weight Watchers weigh-in this week.

p.s. After reading my blog the Pastor confessed a secret donut. I would not make a good priest. I do not feel forgiving, though I do want to require his penance.

just in case you're worried I've been slacking off

Calvin Klein and colorful beads. Cute shoes too, but you can't see.

Pastor, prints & partying

We should really coordinate our prints if we are going to take pictures.

The Pastor and I on our art museum movie date.

view from the top

of the art museum

peachy keen

Once upon a time
I made a pie
It was peach
It was pretty
I didn't get a piece
I was ticked

I got nothing

Sitting here thinking about what to blog.

I've got nothing.

I guess that means the Pastor has been very well behaved.

I need to get dressed and do something other than stare at this blank computer screen.

it wasn't worth it

Upon arriving home from va-ca, I was shocked to learn all the fried cheese curds, madeleines and soft-serve ice cream with extra cookie dough I ate were in fact not fat-free.

After all this time I can't seem to make the correlation between eating ice cream and then being destined to weeks of shredded wheat and celery sticks and the absolute worst: exercise.

I loathe myself. And the cheese curds.

survival of the fittest

Pastor - the mini-sermon you gave this morning to me - the matter-of-fact one about how women are genetically pre-disposed after millions of years to have fat arses, perhaps not your best. I'm just saying! Your audience, me, (the one of the two of us who works out for at least an hour every day and writes down every morsel of food she eats) may have missed your point.

Is that the true curse of Eve? Not that women will feel pain in childbirth (because I've been there/done that and there wasn't any pain, just really good drugs followed by an instant weight loss) but that she will toil for hours on the treadmill to no avail?

I may be genetically predisposed, but I am wildly optimistic and dedicated, perhaps even a bit psychotic. Even with millions of years working against me, all my hard work may pay off. And after millions of years, men still say the absolute dumbest things. This is why God invented flowers. And jewelry. You know where to find me, I'll be on the treadmill.

I'm looking forward to your next pearls of wisdom. I'm such an optimistic person, I'm hoping for something from Proverbs 31:10-12. Or even better, Song of Solomon 1:2. No one ever preaches on that.

Peace be with you.

Michigan, part 2

Me + Pastor - Stephen - Nate = more kissing = less pictures

and me, without my ball gown

I'm here in Grand Rapids and we have a banquet to go to tonight at the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Museum.

I brought a dress with me. But - I've worn it before and I don't do well not having choices. I was looking through pictures last night thinking "why didn't I bring that dress, or that one?" But now I'm stuck. I know he wasn't a very important President, but I still want to look nice at his museum.

The "old" Robyn - and by "old" I am not referring to age - would have simply gone and bought something new.

But the "new and improved" Robyn who is trying very hard to be a different person, is going to wear something she already has.

That's right. I am going to wear something I already have.

But that doesn't mean I'll be happy about it.

Sigh.

I don't know why I am even worried about it, why I even care. If this thing is anything like the theologian filled bar-b-q we went to the other day, it certainly won't matter. Here's one of the jokes that was said at my picnic table at that laugh-fest: "What on earth will we do to celebrate John Calvin's birthday - whitewash the walls of a Catholic church???" Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

The Pastor assures me this was funny.

goodbye, lover

I was flipping through our va-ca pictures, and there he was in so many photos. We looked great together - such a cute couple.

He was slick.

Handsome.

Hip and stylish.

It was tough to end the relationship.

Sure, he was always coming up with new things to try. Sure, he was always keeping me busy. Sure, he knew how to make a girl feel needed and important.

But it was time for me to let go. It wasn't him, it was me.

Bye, iPhone.

I've decided I don't need to check e-mail accounts every three minutes. I've decided I don't need to check the news (especially the news I read) every millisecond to see what's happening now.

I've decided I've got more important things to do. Now I've just got to figure out what those things are.

Maybe ice cream will help.

love, or drugs

Me, after being reunited with the Pastor after four very lonely days: "You got out of bed last night? I have no recollection of that. I just sleep so good when I'm around you."

The Pastor: "It might have had something to do with those two Benadryl you took."

it's a boy!!!

The Pastor and I have been trying very hard to add to our family, and now our wildest dreams have come true. And, Nate has always wanted a brother!

I think we'll call him Stephen, because that's his name. He came into our world at 6'3" and 145 lbs.

Here's some of the fun we had in Missouri, Michigan, Illinois and Indiana. So much fun that I've hopped on a plane and I'm back for more.

cookies!

Me, getting ready to jet off and meet the Pastor: "You probably have the place all decorated with candles and rose petals, huh? A playlist of romantic songs ready?

The Pastor: uncontrollable laughter.

The Pastor: "Nope, mainly, I've been walking around realizing that there are uneaten cookies all over the place. I take a bite out of a cookie, set it down, forget about it, and apparently go get another one."

*****

At least I'll have plenty of cookies.

Robyn's got her grove back. Well, not really.

Robyn, why don't you write anymore? Gee, if only I could pry one of my two computers and/or my magical internet thingy away from the Pastor or the Nate. I'm going to try to get out of my non-writing funk.

So here is just a bunch of random stuff about me.

As soon as I get home from the grocery store, I remove everything from the package. I can't stand to have packaging in my fridge or cabinets.

I will giggle like crazy at any talking dog movie. Makes me giggle just thinking about it.

The house I live in is the 9th house I've lived in in my life. And since it's not our house, I know it won't be the last : ) Takes the pressure off decorating!

I've been vegetarian for the better part of the past 19 years, but lately I've been thinking my body needs meat.

Things I don't like to share: my bathroom, my peanut butter, ok, basically my stuff. What can I say, my mom pegged me when I was little and I said I wanted a sister and she said nuh uh you'd have to share. She was right.

I stopped drinking soda March 12. I have the occasional diet coke with lime, and if the pepsi icee is frozen, I'm a sucker.

I stopped putting salt on my food, except tortilla chips. Too bad I pretty much eat those every day.

I gave up my dog for the Pastor. The dog now lives with my parents and gained a doggie sister. That dog, well he couldn't be happier.

I collect Starbucks City Mugs and those sit-by-the-sink-frogs that hold sponges that millions of women created in ceramic classes in the 1970s. My first sit-by-the-sink-frog was given to me by my grandma two days before she died.

I tan like a California Girl. Thanks Dad!

Guilty pleasure: Nancy Grace.

I wish I could sing.

I think wrist corsages are about the greatest thing ever.

My worst fears: twisty stairs, stairs with space between them, heights, revolving doors, snakes, lizards, getting old, getting fat, going gray. I used to also fear being the hairy old lady in the nursing home, but then I discovered laser hair removal.

OK, stupid, but at least I wrote something.