Carrying around a small child

Most days when he comes home from school Riley drops his backpack in the middle of the kitchen floor. Why not? Where else would it go?

So today, for the eighth bajillion time, I picked it up. And my arm muscles actually groaned. It felt like he had a concrete block or two in there. I was a cat in a former life, so of course I looked inside. A few books and an organizer. Hmmm. I tossed that baby on the scale. 24 pounds. Can you imagine him carrying that home the 1.99 miles school officials say is between my driveway and theirs?

That's right, 1.99 miles - or a tenth of a mile less than needed for free bus service. However, our neighbor across the street whose driveway is about 10 steps closer to the school than ours qualifies for free busing. Figure that one out.

But I digress like always. Somewhere I have a point. But I'll have to figure that out tomorrow. Do you know how hard it is to blog and help with homework at the same time?

Procrastinating Christmas

My inner Grinch is coming out. Except for the green part. I don't look good in green. I'd prefer another color. Does this blog accept returns?

It's too early for me to think about Christmas. But everywhere I turn, there it is. Ornaments and wrapping paper in the store. Reservations for a holiday dinner. Christmas lists and holiday hams. I don't know what I'm eating tomorrow, let alone 90 days from now. OK, I'm pretty sure Klondike bars will be on the menu both days, but I might reform.

On a side note, I noticed that someone visited my blog after Googling Klondike. Maybe it was the Klondike people. Maybe they'll offer me a lifetime supply. That is the sugarplum dancing in my head.

In the meantime, I have other stuff to think about. Like what kind of Halloween candy to eat. I mean give out. And where to put my single turkey decoration. And why this family goes through an unbelievable amount of toilet paper.

Don't worry. I'll catch the holiday spirit eventually. But probably not before the leaves fall off the trees.

Must see TV for the crime-istas

Can you feel the excitement at the Hoop-lah house? It is Friday night and the new season of Medium starts in 15 minutes.

Carly and I are beyond happy. We've been waiting all summer.

My letter to Oprah

Dear Oprah,

Are you watching the TV premieres in your spare time? I haven't seen many, but I am trying to catch your show. Final season, you know.

My son, Riley, watched with me yesterday. It was about the Columbian woman, the political candidate who was kidnapped and held captive by rebels for more than six years. Her children had become adults while she was away. She no longer recognized her son's voice.

That statement burned. No risk of being captured by rebels here, but I know the pain of not recognizing your own child. It is how I sometimes feel about Riley. In my mind's eye, he is a boy. This boy.

Some days it's the voice or the facial hair. Other days it's the muscles or the size 13 shoes. But it feels strange. Like it's someone I should know, but am not sure I have ever met.

So please, warn me when you're about to break my heart. Puberty, menopause and the end of your show might be more than I can manage.

Calling 911

Don't panic. Everyone at the Hoop-lah house is just fine, minus a little sassiness, know-it-all syndrome, and a waiting heart attack from football fan overload. But I digress. This post is about me.

A few weeks ago, before I decided to lose 10 pounds, I thought I'd take an easier route. Gastric bypass maybe? No. Cutting out carbs? No way. A torture device that keeps you from eating because it severely hampers your ability to breathe? Yeah, I think I'll try that.

You guessed it, I bought a pair of Spanx. All the celebs rave about them, but now that I think about it they really have no fat to hold in. So what's the point?

Last night was the first night of card club for the season. What better time to whip out my Spanx and impress the 70+ crowd with my new fabulousness?

The pair I bought went all the way from my butt to my boobs. A little tight, I thought, but it'll loosen up. 15 minutes later I got a little panicky. That tends to happen when you can't breathe. And what was I going to? I'm driving down the freeway, no other underwear in sight.

So sometimes a girl has to make a hard choice. Last night, that meant getting out of the death grip ASAP and going commando. But I'll spare you the details. That's what friends do.

Famous last words

What could be so hard about losing 10 pounds?

That's what I said last week. Silly me. I wasn't expecting to lose all 10 in one week. But geez, I wasn't planning on gaining four pounds either. In one week. And I didn't eat a single Klondike bar. That is just plain wrong.

I'm not surprised though. I'm an emotional eater and last week pushed all of my buttons. Every single one. Working from home doesn't help. There's a lot more food in easy reach.

I think I'll start over tomorrow. Tonight is Wendy's night, and you know I'm not going to miss that.

Losing 10 pounds the Hoop-lah way #2

That Klondike bar calling my name during the night was totally out of line.