The Kool Aid Man is a-comin'

I won't be angry if you don't ask me to be a bridesmaid. In fact, I will say thank you and kiss your feet. I had to go to the bridal store and try on dresses for my brother's upcoming wedding, May 22nd. As it is, I have a Carrie, a la Sex and City, type aversion to weddings. I get antsy and my pulse races. I get sweaty and can't breathe. Yesterday was no exception.

My friend Bonnie went with me to try on the dresses. At first it was fun: laughing at the wedding dresses, the hideous colors in selected bridesmaid fashions, etc. Which, by the way, their wedding color is watermelon....for real? I, as my brother laughed when he had looked online at the dress styles, will surely look like the KoolAid man and be sweating profusely in 100 degree humidity soaked Texas heat. Anyhow, I finally had the 3 styles my future sister in law had picked and went into a dressing room. No sooner than I had taken them off the hanger and stripped down, I felt claustrophobic. I shimmied into every dress, each one worse than the last. It was hot and I had to adjust the girls everytime, until I gave up and just free balled it in the dressing room. My hair was everywhere and I wanted to, literally, throw a temper tantrum like the 2 year old outside my fitting room. Bonnie couldn't help but laugh. I mean I did look absolutely ridiculous.

We finally chose the most flattering style. $135 (plus alterations)of pure fugliness and bitterness. I equate my experience to Chinese water torture. Please, I beg of all you brides....stop the madness. No one looks good in whatever God awful color you pick unless it's black. NO ONE will ever shorten it to wear else where no matter how much you try to sell it that way. I say this is with steadfast conviction: this is the LAST TIME I will ever do this. I love each and every single friend I have, but I prefer to sit on the sidelines. I'll buy a nice gift and attend your multiple showers. I will smile and do all the things you ask. Just don't make me buy yet another detestable dress and participate in the shame that accompanies this ritual.

I heart Rocco

One look at my hips and you know I am no stranger to good food. Since my move to super healthy California I have adopted many new tastes, mainly more fruits, veggies, and anything packed with fiber (the stuff that keeps your intestines happy, makes you feel fuller longer, and yes, makes you poop.) As such, I have lost weight. The bad thing is when you're used to literally slobering at the thought of ooey, gooey pizza and cheeseburgers, no matter what how you try, low fat versions just never really stack up.

Today I stand corrected.

I read Runner's World on occassion. I fancy someday when my ass isn't as big I might actually run a race or marathon. Anyhow, they always have low fat recipes and tips for better eating, building muscle, etc. I saw a recipe in the April issue for fettucine alfredo. It sounded good, but it can sound good and taste like crap.

I decided it didn't hurt to try and bought the stuff to make it. I figured I'd add some broccoli to up the "fill up" content and make garlic bread out of 100% whole wheat bread. The results, my friends, was beyond words.

Whomever said it was impossible to healthy food that tastes good NEVER tried this. I DARE you to try this and not want to slap your mama. No, seriously.

Rocco Dispirito's Fettucine Alfredo
-8 ounces whole wheat fettucine
-1 tablespoon butter (I used I Can't Believe It's Not Butter)
-3 garlic cloves, minced
-A pinch of ground nutmeg
-3/4 cup low-fat, low-sodium chicken broth
-3/4 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
-3/4 cup 5% greek yogurt (I used 2%. It was all I could find)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add fettucine; cook according to package directions. While pasta cooks, melt butter in a large nonstick saute pan over medium heat. Add garlic and cook 2 minutes. Combine cornstarch and nutmeg in a small bowl; whisk in chicken broth until smooth. Pour into saute pan, raise the heat, and bring sauce to a simmer, whisking occasionally. Whisk in 1/2 cup of the cheese until melted. Remove pan from heat. Whisk in yogurt until smooth. Toss fettucine with Alfredo sauce. Season with salt and pepper. Top pasta with remaining cheese. Serves four.

Calories per serving: 336 calories; 47G carbs;18G protein; 10G fat.

Let me just say....

Men can be such pigs.

I was talking to grocery boy about my nutty coworker. She's crazy and I want to slap her all the time. It makes for good laughs because I have a big mouth and am rarely censored in our interactions. Everyone who knows we work together is always like let's go work together. These 2 are bound to have a fireworks display. We're fundamentally different people and that is always a recipe for disaster. Makes for good conversation and even better drive to outperform her.

But, I digress. I was telling him about her latest escapade with me last week. She drove me crazy with her indecisiveness on setting the account up, interacting with the account staff, and countless other things. I come prepared. I get in, get out, and make it happen. She sort of just "feels" it out. No plan of action necessarily and no ways of trouble shooting. It seems to always end in some sort of unnecessary drama.

"Do you think women have a managerial place AT ALL in the work force when they are so ruled by their emotions?" he asked.

I stopped mid sip of my drink. I looked up and he had this sort of sarcastic smirk on his face. Yes, it was kinda cute, but are you kidding me with that question? Needless to say, the dormant bottle rocket in my ass was ignited.

"Not all women are like that....this one just is. I happen to work with plenty of women who make business decisions with their heads and not their hormones, including myself," I replied.

"I just don't know if that's true. I mean they get all teary and start worrying about what's not really important."

Rocket about to launch. Please start the countdown Houston: 10....9....8....7...

I feel like I'm walking into a booby trap. I choose my words wisely and reply, "Well it's like saying men only think with their peckers and don't deserve to lead or manage people. You would never say that about a man."

Long pause. Deep breath. "It's absolutely possible to be a woman and lead a team without letting your emotions reek havoc on you. I've been doing it for over 10 years."

He smiled and just said, "Well then I guess it is."

That's right it is. This is probably why the woman you will marry will need to be a neanderthal. No real woman in today's society would readily stand up to be barefoot and pregnant catering to your every caveman needs cute or not.

He called

Grocery boy. He had a huge fight with his girlfriend and needed someone to talk to. We talked about how he doesn't think he can be with his girlfriend anymore. I didn't know what to say. I mean, I assume this has been a long time in coming. I just sort of listened and said I couldn't weigh in. You need 2 sides of a story to know the full scope of things. I said do what's in your gut. Your gut always knows well before your brain or heart.

He seemed pleased with that response. I tried to make him laugh because that's what your friends do when you are fighting with your boyfriend/girlfriend. He was in better spirits than when he called, which is always better.

I think I am in friend territory but it's actually ok. There was no fear to make an impression and isn't that really the best feeling of all when you are still licking your own wounds?

I think I might be....

a loser. I was invited to a wild girls night on the town. Yet, I willingly chose to go to yoga, rent movies, eat dinner and crash by 10:30. 10 years ago I would have been dolled up and ready for action.

And again, here I am, up @ 6:30 am on a saturday morning when all the cool people are still asleep.

I'm getting old:(

Commando

I'm a busy girl. I dont have time for a lot of things, like making my apartment spotless and feeding the poor. I do, or rather I should, have time to wash some undies.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am ashamed to admit...I have no clean underwear, or swimsuit bottoms to wear. Yes, I said swimsuit bottoms. I went there yesterday and yet still, I did not wash clothes. Given the severity of this problem, I refuse, absolutely refuse to reuse unwashed garments. I have some sense of pride left. Not much, but some.

I have no options other than the obvious. It's going to have to be a LONG maxi dress and some confidence today. I cringe at my ridiculous mistake. I mean who forgets to wash underwear when you wore a swimsuit bottom to work AND an event planning meeting?! (Besides me)

Note to self: wash clothes ASAP and get a bigger underwear stash.

Friends

An excerpt:

"Separation and distance are natural parts of the friendship cycle. We grow at different rates and in different directions, and sometimes we are better apart than we are together. And it's tough when your friend has a big job or a great love or a new baby and you don't. Being out of step can be excruciating, but it can also push you to evolve in ways you otherwise wouldn't."

Lately, I have felt isolated by some of my closest friends. While I'm happy they have found joy in new endeavors, to say I haven't felt sad at my own prospects would be a bald face lie. They are embarking on the adventures of a lifetime with new lovers, new jobs, and new careers. It can be easy to throw a pity party and say they suck and why am I so (fill in the blank with any misfortune, negative comment that comes to mind). This small paragraph brought me back to earth. I am but blessed to have these amazingly smart, ambitous women who have chosen me to come along in their journeys of self discovery and life in general. I don't think I ever realized separation and distance are normal when friends are in it for the long haul. From the tears over stupid boys, drinks for every imaginable holiday real or not, trips all over the country, uprooting our lives all over this blasted world, and quiet runs along the beach, we have done it all.

Thank you for taking the time to share your lives with me. I promise to stop being such a pissy brat and remember everyone gets a turn on the merry go round:)

92 calories of bliss

And this is why being healthy isn't all that bad.

My ass and thighs say thank you.