Even if it's just breaking up with an apartment.

Having to pay rent plus all our own utilities on top of that was getting to be a bit much.  Especially when we thought about how much we were paying to be graced with the presence of smelly hipsters whose parents pay their fucking rent.  They just hang out in the building all day making "art" and looking like they just rolled out of bed.  Yeah yeah, I went to art school too but I grew up and got over myself.  There's a definitely 30-going-on-18 syndrome in this building, and I'm kinda grossed out by it.

I'm tired of the nameless, faceless Hasidic corporation who owns this buildling.  I couldn't tell you my landlord's name, because it's literally owned by who-knows-how-many actual people, and they like to keep everything a secret.  They're completely hands-off to the point that we do all our own repairs and foot the bill.  We're just the latest in a line of people going through the revolving door of this building while the property values escalate.  We're not people, we're dollars.  And they make sure we know it.  I'm fucking tired of shelling out nearly $2k a month in rent and utilities to put up with this shit.

I love love love our loft though.  We made it so pretty and cozy, and it's really hard to leave behind.  But we just can't do this anymore.  It's stressful having to shell out that kind of money every month!

Our next-door neighbors found an apartment two stops further on the same train we're on now.  There are only 5 apartments in the entire building, 2 per floor, and the two of the top floor were open.  We went to check it out with them: 1 huge bedroom, a smaller bedroom, huge living room and huge kitchen.  (I should mention that huge is all relative and that NY huge is a joke to the outside world.)  It's pretty much the same size as the loft, with lower ceilings and a long, skinny layout.  It's an old building, but it's in good shape.  It's clean and it's got a lot of character.  Old wood floors, tall tin ceilings, big windows with lots of sunlight.

It kind of reminded me of my two favorite apartments in Minneapolis: the studio and the 1 bedroom at the edge of downtown.  I looooooved those places.  And this area has the same kind of vibe.  Less prostitutes and drug dealers, though ^_^  What really sold that place to me was how effing cheap it is:  $1275 a month, and that includes heat + hot water.  We'd be saving $400+ a month!  We could take a frikkin vacation and not have to skimp on every damn thing.  We could actually afford our own internet connection for a change. 

We met one of the two landlords, something that has never, ever happened in the history of our NYC apartment searching.  While we were looking around the apartment, the second landlord called and wanted to say hi.  They're a brother and sister from Sicily who purchased the building from their father, and they are so fucking nice it makes my face hurt.  They were thrilled that Bradley's a handyman, and I see some rent breaks in our near future in exchange for updates on the building.

After hearing all the good things our neighbors had to say about the other landlord and seeing the

We handed over our standard 2 months' security deposits plus half a month's rent so we could move on August 15th.  And then we stood around forever with the landlord having a conversation about life, taking chances and self-discovery.  That's kind of when I knew we'd made the smart decision.

We tried to lock in our rent with a 2 year lease, but they wouldn't agree to it.  I can kind of understand. They have no idea what we're really like and whether they'd want us around for 2 years.  They're basically just going on instinct.  They didn't do a credit check or anything.  The female landlord said that they're not assholes who will automatically raise your rent 8% annualy (like our current landlords, ahem), and that if we're good to them, they'll be good to us.  Our neighbors are taking over their friends' lease, and those friends said that rent was not raised after the first year.  The second year, it went up $25.  That's unheard of 'round here.  Seriously. 

I think the landlords just want to maintain a quiet, clean building and make some extra cash on it (they already own a restaurant and a nightclub).  I don't think it's their main source of income, and I don't think they're out to gouge anyone.  When shit like that happens here, I'm taken aback.  You kind of get used to being fucked over, and when someone comes off as nice, it really catches you off guard.  Sad.

On our way out, we met the girl who lives below us.  She was our age, super nice and had great things to say about the building and how people actually give a shit about you in that neighborhood.  A brother + sister live in the apartment across the hall from her and they're apparenly very nice.  And downstairs is a storefront that an artist — not an "artist" — has rented and turned into his living space.  I saw that he has a back yard with a grill in it.  Must. Make. Friends.

The best part is that we get to live by our favorite neighbors ever, and we have the whole top floor to ourselves.  We could open up the 4 entraces to the apartments, baby gate the stairs and let the dogs play.  And we don't have to go into a new place and risk ending up with shitty caca neighbors again.  The worst part is that there have been breaks-ins in that building.  We have awesome security gates on the windows in the kitchen in case someone tries to climb up and in, but no more being absent-minded about locking the door when I go check the mail or take out the trash.  It can also be kinda loud on summer days because there are lots of teenagers that hang out on the street.  (Why must they yell about everything?  Especially when flirting?  Why??)

We have 2.5 weeks to find someone to take over the place, and so far we've only had one flightly Indian girl come to see the place. I'm making fliers and hanging them up around the nabe.  Then it's time to pull out the boxes and start packing.  Boooooo! 

Just like his career?  (Ooooooooooh, too soon??)

MJ was, like, my idol when we lived in Saudi Arabia — my mom had VHS tapes of some of his performances and my big bro and I danced along to Thriller on pretty much a daily basis.  It's sad for his kids that he's dead but, meh, he was frikkin nuts.  It's weird to hear people talk about "losing him" like he was actually doing something relevant these days. 

Yup, I'm an insensitive jerk.  What of it?

I'm a little jealous that Bradley's hanging out with two of the most awesome ladies I know all weekend long.  Our friends Cassidy and Jehra are visiting from Minneapolis and I'm missing out.  They're trying to talk us into moving back to the Minni-apple with inticing stories of cheap houses and job offers at Fallon.  Jehra's boyfriend's got major connections at Fallon and she's buddies with the HR woman.  Hmm.  I'll leave it at that for now.

Houston is so far so good.  The flight was weird.  I sat next to a smelly, pimply, greasy guy who was so gross that he made me truly appreciate my clean, smooth, hygiene-conscious boy at home. Ugh.  He took his shoes off and I almost threw up all over myself.  ...but enough about that.  I'd packed a banana, turkey jerky and a 100-calorie pack of cocoa almonds as my in-flight snack.  Good thing too.  They gave everyone chicken burritos.  White flour wrap?  White rice?  Sour cream?  Weird saucy shit all up in there?  Mmmmmmmnothnxkbai.

I got to the hotel at 9:30 and decompressed for an hour before meeting my coworkers in the lobby bar for drinks and dinner.  We hung out and talked for a long time, and it was actually not torture.  (Seryi, the pumpkin bucket should be right-side-up!)  We ordered dinner, and I ended up with a HUGE grilled chicken sandwich on ciabbata bread in front of me.  It was seriously the size of 2 sandwiches.  It didn't really have any veggies on it, but it also didn't have any mystery sauce so I can't complain.  I ate one half and called it a night.

I woke up bright and early this morning, which was quite the feat considering how late I stayed up last night.  It was partially out of habit and partially because I set the alarm for 7am to wake up for a run.  I made myself a coffee and then scrounged around in my bag of treats for a decent pre-workout snack.  Not a whole lot to work with.  Usually I'll have a bowl of shredded wheat with some blueberries.  Or a banana with some almond butter.  Or a piece of Ezekiel bread with sugar-free jam.  Today I had a Luna bar, and it's just not the same. 

The real test of a good pre-workout fuel-up is when you mosey on down to the gym and hop on the treadmill.  Some breakfasts make me super fast and light, and others bog me down and I can barely get 2 miles in.  The Luna bar held me over for, like, 20 minutes on the treadmill.  I switched over to the elliptical and got in my 400+ calorie burn, but it wasn't easy.  I didn't have time to go pick up some fruit either so tomorrow will end up being more of the same. Booooo!

After the run, I cleaned up and met up with The Boss in the breakfast area.  Seryi, you'll be glad to know they had oatmeal with plenty of mix-ins.  I opted for raisins, cranberries, almonds & a perfectly ripened banana.  It was like a breakfast at home.

I did some post-breakfast emailing while The Boss ran out to rent a car.  I talked him into a Prius (you're welcome, Mother Earth).  Then it was location scouting time.

The photographer, his rep and the producer were super fun, but it was a long day with very little coffee, too much heat and not nearly enough food.  We ate breakfast around 10ish, and then ran from location to location to location till around 7ish.  Ugh.  I'm used to eating every 3 hours, so it was kinda grueling.  Around 3:30, I split a bag of raw trail mix and a couple of 100-calorie packs of raw nuts with Account Girl.  Then it was more location scouting, an iced coffee from Starbucks, more scouting, and finally — right before Account Girl and I passed out from heat exhaustion and malnourishment — we went to a bar and ordered a round of bloody mary's. 

We met up with the photographer's assistants, two other guys from San Fran who were equally awesome, and they talked us into rounds 2 and 3.  Plus appetizers, which included an ahi tuna roll and a thin-crust margarita pizza.  Not the healthiest of choices, but the menu was limited.  Sometimes a grumbly tummy wins, and that's fine by me (as long as I logged in 400+ calories on the treadmill first!).

I seriously wasn't planning on drinking so much during this trip (hi, calories), but The Boss is in full party mode and it's super hard to say no to him.  He's waaaaay more fun outside the office than he is on the inside.  Seriously.  It's night and day.  He's a bad influence in the best possible way.  Man.  He should just be on shoots all the time.  It's his element. 

The photogs decided to go out to dinner, and we decided to come back to the hotel to pass out instead.  We have to wake up at 6am to be at the location by 7.  Blah. 

Here's the food breakdown for the day:

- Luna bar and a cup of black coffee to fuel my 50 minute workout
- Oatmeal with raisins, cranberries and almond slivers mixed with my own packet of Justin's Honey PB, a banana, 2 slices of cantaloupe and 2 cups of coffee with skim milk
- 200 calories worth of raw nuts and dried fruit
- Starbucks iced coffee with a splash of skim milk
- 2 slices of a mini thin crust pizza, a few bites of tuna roll
- 2 bloody mary's, extra spicy
- A big grilled chicken breast sandwich on ciabbata bread — same thing I ordered last night, only I ate the whole sammich this time

Not the healthiest eating day (alcohol, white bread, white rice, cheese), but with the morning workout and the amount of walking we did, my calories are totally in check.  I need to stop freaking out and realize that an intense workout means I can afford to splurge here and there.  At least this week, while I'm sans-kitchen and left at the mercy of restaurants.

Breakfast tomorrow is at the craft services table.  Nervous about that, but the producer has arms like Michelle Obama and the photographers are all runners.  I'm assuming there will be at least some fruit or something healthy available.  I'm having lunch with my mother-in-law tomorrow, and I might drag her to dinner & drinks with the photographers tomorrow night.  Key word for tomorrow:  salad.  Just hope we go somewhere that offers them.  Yiish.

Anyway, I'm off to get into my PJs, organize the day's recepts, pack my bag for tomorrow and watch a little cable before I pass out.

It is so effing nice to be out of the office.  Sure, I'm at the airport, but it beats a cubicle, right?  Right??

The trip is only starting and I've already had to dodge one nutritional bullet.  One word:  Mexican.  My biggest culinary weakness.  Luckily I had the foresight to have a Hugh Jass salad with my Salad Buddy before we left for the airport.  I was feeling kinda snacky by the time we sat down, but nothing on the menu sounded even remotely healthy—not even the Healthy Burrito.  Just cuz it's whole wheat and vegetarian doesn't mean it isn't 293402 calories.  Just sayin'.

I ordered a Diet Coke and called it a day.  And then I treated myself to a coffee to go with the baggie of Kashi crackers I'd stashed in my carryon.  Diet disaster averted.

I've gotten way better at planning for stuff like this.  I have a banana, a bag of almonds and a Luna bar to tide me over during the 4-hour flight.  I also packed single-serving peanut butter packets and dried blueberries to add to my morning oatmeal, plus some more Luna bars.  And 100-calorie baggies of almonds + walnuts.  And raw trek mix from Trader Joe's.  Annnnd — this one was Bradley's idea — a ziploc bag full of coffee grounds from home.  It's the only coffee we buy, and I'd die without it.  Seriously.  Jim's Organic is pure love.

Boss news: he's like a completely different person outside of the office.  He's.....fun.  (It was really, really hard to admit that.)  This week should be interesting, to say the least.  By the way, Molly, in case you're reading this:  he told me to tell you that we're going to blow your budget out of the water.  Eeps!  I'm sure he was kidding(?).

I'm leaving on Thursday for a weeklong business trip to Houston.  (Did that sound all grown up or what?)  It's finally time for the photo shoot I've been stressed out about for months now.  I'm at the point now where I'm no longer stressed about the actual shoot.  I mean, come on, that's the fun part of this job.  The thing I'm stressing about now is, um, food.

I've turned into kind of a control freak picky eater, and the idea of not having a kitchen for a week freaks me out.  I've worked long and hard to lose a butt-ton of weight and I'm determined as all hell to keep it off.  So the idea of not being in control, of being left at the mercy and whim of restaurants and room service — not gonna lie — it actually kept me up last night.  I have issues. *Le sigh*

The hotel gym looks really nice + roomy, and it's open 24/7.  That should help keep me on track.  I also stocked up on little 100-calorie packs of raw nuts and almond butter, freeze-dried berries, green tea, Luna bars and other purse-friendly foods, just in case the craft services table turns out to be a farce.  I can always count on two things being available at craft services tables: fruit and raw veggies.  The rest is kind of unpredictable and tends to be gut-bustingly bad.

I'm Googling healthy restaurants in the area that won't break the calorie bank or my per diem allowance, and so far so good.  On a side note, what did people do before Google?  Cry?

I'm taking it off.  I'm taking it all off.  The day, that is.

My entire body feels like a big pile of ground beef today, courtesy of a super hardcore workout yesterday.  It's been kinda stressful at work so I scheduled an extra workout with the personal trainer.  He whooped my ass on Tuesday and I was sore Wednesday - Friday.  But, stubborn bitch that I am, I didn't cancel our regular Friday workout and had to power through an even more hardcore workout yesterday.

Usually I'll do the 30-minute-calorie-annihilation with my trainer and then go run on the treadmill and do speed intervals on the bike afterwards.  If I'm waking up at 5am to go to the gym, I'm going to make it really worthwhile.  Yesterday, though, I was so sore that I just walked on the treadmill for 40 minutes.  Slowly.  And then I hit the elliptical for 20 minutes, also super slowly. And then I went and passed out in the sauna.

Today I can barely walk.  There are muscle knots everywhere and I'm walking like I just got off a horse.  So I'm taking the day to get stuff done around the house (sloooooowly) and taking frequent breaks to go sit on the couch and meditate over endless cups of coffee.  I need this. 

And, for the record, I'm totally not complaining about soreness or pain. Yesterday I wore a size small clingy t-shirt.  And the new jeans I treated myself to because all my other jeans are now embarrassingly too big to wear are fitting loosely already.  And then the icing on the rice cake:  I flexed my stomach in the mirror this morning and saw the very clear definition lines of a six-pack.  Booyah!

In other news, I've somehow gone from unapologetic meateater to sort of a flexatarian.  It's partially for health reasons and partially for ethical reasons.  I accidentally had a vegan day a few weeks ago, where I didn't realize until after dinner that I'd gone the entire day without eating meat, dairy or anything else derived from animals.  And I hadn't missed it.  I've had a few vegetarian days without realizing it, too.

A week ago I stocked the freezer with eco-friendly seafood.  As of today, it's been exactly 7 days since I've had chicken.  I can't remember the last time I had beef or turkey or anything else. I love meat too much to give it up entirely, but I'm becoming more and more conscious of where my food is coming from and how it was treated before it ended up on my plate. 

I'll treat myself to the free range local stuff now and then, especially since so many restaurants serve it around here.  But I love fish and I'm perfectly content with that being the major source of my animal protein. 

Meh.  All this food talk's made me hungry.  I'm off to make lunch.  Maybe I'll get to the laundry, maybe I won't.  Lazy days rule!

I am really running short on patience with people who complain complain complain about everything fucking stupid little thing in their lives, yet do nothing to change their situation.  Doing more of the same gets you more of the same, kapish?  Either learn to live with it (and shut the fuck up already), or do something about it.  Seriously.  P.S. Try talking about something other than yourself for a little while.  It's refreshing.

The Jonas Brothers are playing at the Fillmore, which is located directly across the street from my office.  All I've been hearing for the past 2 hours is 'AHHHHHHHHH!!!!" and "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" and "WE LOOOOOOVE YOU JONNNNNNNAAAASSSSSSS!"

Do.  Not.  Like.

Goooood morning! I have the day off.  Whoo!  It's a shiteous, rainy day but I'm OK with that.  All the more reason to curl up on the couch and do nothing.  Sorta.  I already got the day rolling with a 6am workout with the personal trainer, so I'm in full go mode.  I plan on tidying up the place, doing some laundry, hitting up a noon yoga class, and baking some low-fat brownies for tomorrow's grillout.  My birthday grillout that is.

Yup, I'm turning 28 tomorrow.  I couldn't care less, honestly, but it's a good excuse to eat a big, fatty steak without all that big, fatty guilt.  It's also a great way to con Bradley into going to a yoga class with me, because only a jerk would say "no, thanks" on your birthday.  What I really wanted to do is go camping all weekend and get away from The City, but no dice.  My parents would flip a shit if they couldn't get a hold of me.  Cell phone reception and all.  So instead we're going to hit up a park with a dog run and grill up some rib-eye.  Nobody's invited.

On a less misanthropic note, tomorrow is the deadline I gave myself for achieving my first weight loss goal.  I wanted to weigh X on June 6.  Turns out I'll be weighing in at X minus 3 pounds.  Yup.  I hit my goal a couple of weeks ago and I'm already past it.  I'm pretty fucking proud of myself.  Next deadline: losing another 7 pounds by July 11th. 

Why July 11th?  Because my cousin's getting married, and her sister used to torment me for being a chubster when we were in middle school.  And high school.  And college.  I don't mean a little light teasing either.  This girl was a straight up bitch and spared no expense to hurt my feelings.  She used to be a stick, but now she's packed on the pounds.  Her arms are the size of my thighs.  Is it wrong that I want to shove my bony ass all up in her face?  Probably....but I'm going to do it anyway.  Strut!

I'm going to Houston in a couple of weeks for a photo shoot.  Then I have to go Dallas a couple of weeks after that for the wedding.  And again over Thanksgiving for another wedding.  And then Christmas in Austin for 2 solid weeks.  Texas is getting waaaaaay too much Leena this year.

I'd better get a head start on that cleaning if I want to make it to yoga class at noon.  Later, suckas!

Major upset tummy today. It's so bad that I'm taking the day off just so I can stay close to my own bathroom.  This, by the way, didn't stop me from going in for my 6:30 workout with the trainer.  I had to do it on a mostly-empty stomach and ran back home just in the knick of time.  I'm not kidding about the running part either — I actually fucking ran home so I could go sit on the toilet.  How's that for TMI??

Speaking of running, it turns out I'm not the only one in the Ech-Dub family who's taken up the treadmill.  My dad's been running 5 miles a day, 4 days a week.  He's lost over 10 lbs, and you could see a HUGE difference in the photos he sent me yesterday.  Go dad!  We made plans to do a 5K when I'm in town.  I guess it's never too late to do a little father-daughter bonding.

I have to go help my sisturd and her husband move out of their apartment tonight.  It's one of those hoity toity Manhattan snob buildings where you have to sign up for a time slot where you can move out.  They give you 4 hours of elevator access to empty your entire apartment.  Heaven forbid someone should see you move out of the building!  I brought my heart rate monitor home with me because lifting couches totally counts as exercise. Um, lets just hope the old stomach settles before I have to do any heavy lifting...

We're going to check out an apartment tomorrow.  It's prime time to move because the shitty economy has driven down rents significantly.  We tried to negotiate with our landlords to have our rent lowered a little since we're good tenants and they're cutting deals with other not-so-good tenants.  They told us to fuck off.  Plus there are tons of yuppie Manhattanites moving in to the building now.  You know the type I'm talking about.  They're worse than the hipsters — they're wannabe hipsters.  It's time to move.

The place we're seeing tomorrow is further out on the L train in a quieter area, and the apartment is MASSIVE.  It's a 2 bedroom with tall ceilings and a fireplace.  Big bay windows, brand new kitchen, tons of closets.  It's bigger than the loft.  Did I mention we'd be saving over 400 bucks a month?  Four oh oh.  That's 4800 a year.  Our savings account will be so happy, plus we could afford to take another weeklong trip to the Carribean every year.  Whoo!  Fingers crossed for tomorrow's viewing.  If the guy is willing to budge even a little on the price, we're signing the fucking lease tomorrow.  Or as they'd say in Brooklyn: enough already with the raping of my wallet.  Say that in your head with a Dr. Zoidberg accent.  I dare you not to laugh.

Yup, another working out / eating right post.  Sue me.

Our trip to the Dominican Republic was fantastic (pics are up on Myspace if you care to see 'em!).  Not just for the sun and ocean stuff either.  For once in my life, I managed to not gain a couple of pounds on vacation.  In fact, I lost a couple.  (How many people can say that??)  I ran every day, swam a lot, and didn't take the "all you can eat" part of the buffet seriously.  The whole all-inclusive thing is lost on me.  I think I managed one, maybe two alcoholic beverages a day.

But I've been more or less stuck at the same weight since the week we got back from our vacation.  I don't have a whole lot more left to lose.  I mostly just want to tone up and lose a little more body fat.  I don't have a specific number in mind because I'm way more muscular than I've ever been in my life.  Muscle has more mass than fat, so the way I look at 130 now isn't the same as I looked at 130 a few years ago. I've decided that I'll stop losing when it feels right — when I look like a frikkin runner.

Anyway, I've been stuck at the same weight & body fat percentage despite working out 6 days a weeks and counting every calorie that goes in my mouth.  Something's up. 

I thought at first that it might be my thyroid acting up, but I don't have any other symptoms and I've gotten super anal about taking my meds every day.  Or maybe my calorie needs are super low because of the thyroid condition itself.  Maybe I'm eating too many calories even though I'm only eating 1300 calories a day.  Confusion.  So I set up an appointment with a nutritionist to analyze what might be wrong.

I went in and had an Resting Metabolic Rate test done. Basically you have to breathe in and out of a tube for 20 minutes and then the machine gives you a printout of how many calories you're burning in a typical day just to keep your body alive.  That's your baseline, and you figure out your daily calorie needs from that.  The test also tells you the condition your lungs are in and how your metabolism compares to the average person.

I was pretty blown away by what I learned:

1. Biggest shock of my life:  I have a crazy fast metabolism now, thanks to working out and eating 5 smaller meals a day.  I'm in the 83rd percentile, which puts me at athlete levels.  Halle-frikkin-lujah!
2. I don't have nearly as much body fat as I did in mid-January when I joined the gym.  Double whoo hoo!
3. The reason the scale won't budge is not because I'm eating too much.  It's because I'm not eating enough.  I've been having around 1300 calories a day.  Turns out I need at least 1600 a day to lose weight.  I can have up to 1800 calories a day and still lose weight.  And when I'm ready to maintain my weight?  1800-2400 calories a day just to keep my body from losing too much.  (How effed up is that?  I thought I'd be maintaining at 1600.) 
4. I'm not getting enough fat.  If I add a tablespoon of olive oil here and a tablespoon of peanut butter there, the weight will fly off in no time.
5. According to the rate of breaths per minute, my lungs are in tip top shape. Must be all that running!
6. I'm already eating all the right things. And I could easily sustain this "diet" for the rest of my life because it doesn't feel like a diet.
7. My body can handle more carbs now that I'm a gymrat.  A lot more.  Welcome back, potatoes.

The best part of the whole thing was that she checked over my food logs for 10 days that I picked at random, and she was mega-impressed.  She said I was eating all the right things, but not enough of them.  And she was pleasantly suprised that she didn't have to ask me to give up anything on my list of foods.  She told me to add in more fruit, which I thought I couldn't have because of the whole thyroid / sugar thing.  Turns out I've pretty much conquered my thyroid. 

She told me to come back when I start training for a marathon (I haven't picked a date yet), and we'll talk sports nutrition.  But for now, I just need to keep doing what I'm doing, eat more and watch the fat melt off.

Good nutrition & exercise, people.  It works.  Seriously.

Confession: sometimes when I type in livejournal, I accidentally type liverjournal. I don't know why.

2 days, 4 hours and 58 minutes till the vacation officially starts.  So.  Psyched.  I went in and got the old Brazilian wax yesterday to get me bikini ready.  Note to self:  never move to Brazil — you couldn't handle it.  I'm more or less packed already, since I'm only taking bathing suits, sundresses, flip flops and my running sneaks.  I haaaaate checking luggage in so I stick to one backpack and travel super light. 

Bradley and I are making a batch of homemade beef jerky for travel snacking.  I'm also taking a baggie of cut-up veggies, an apple, a couple packets of single-serving peanut butter and pumpkin seeds, plus a Larabar.  That should hopefully be enough to tide me over for the 7 hours it'll take to get from our apartment to the hotel.  I'll be damned if I let a little vacation screw up my months of healthy eating!

I'm backing up a batch of biscotti cookies for Cris tonight.  Thanks, Cris!  I got your AIDS Walk check in the mail, and I'll have these cookies out to you just as soon as they cool down =)

And I'm still alive!

3.2 mile run + 6.2 mile walk = 1035 calories burned, achey feet and an insatiable hunger.

It also = husband passed out upstairs, dog passed out in the doggie bed, and me soaking my poor feet in the heated foot spa thingy I got myself with last year's tax return.  Muahahaha....worth it.

The 5K was awesome.  I screwed up my breakfast by accidentally leaving my half-banana in the fridge.  I was supposed to eat it with my skinny latte on the 1.5 hour train ride to the Bronx, but I had to make do with just the shredded wheat.  And coffee.  I would never forget the coffee.  I'd fly into a homicidal rage if I didn't get my coffee.  (I'm brewing up a cup right now.)

So I made it in time and started getting all nervous.  I don't know why — it's a noncompetitive event and I'm a super noncompetitive person.  Maybe it was the idea of being the very last out of 3000 people to cross the finish line, or tripping and falling, or being there alone.  But then I realized that out of all the people in the city of New York (8,274,527...yes I looked it up), there were only 3000 of us who woke up at the ass crack of dawn to go on a run today.  I already won the battle.

The Bronx Zoo was gorgeous.  This peaceful, green, quiet sanctuary.  You forget you're in a city at all. 

As far as running goes, it was a little weird not getting in a warmup walk before the running part started.  One minute you're standing there, the next you're running.  It was also weird not running with music, but the nature sounds were pretty soothing.  I made it to the one mile marker before I even knew it, and that kind of amped me up. 

I stopped twice.  Once to grab a cup of water at the halfway point, and once more after the 2 mile marker to snap a camera phone picture of a female peacock who wandering out on the trail.  How's that for serendipity?

The finish line totally crept up on me.  I high fived a couple of guys in gorilla suits and that was it.  I'd finished my first 5k.  And I wasn't the last.  I wasn't even close to the last.  I was somewhere right in the middle.  I picked up a bottle of water, free t-shirt and goodie bag, plus a ciabbata roll and a banana to replenish with.  I picked out a corner by the seal pool and sat down and that's when it hit me.  I did it.  I've always wanted to be "a runner" — they're leeeeean fuckers — and I think it's official when you finish your first race.  And I'm so entering another 5k in the future — it was an awesome experience!

I walked around the zoo for a while and then headed out to meet up with Bradley & Jabba on 110th Street aka the north end of Central Park.  We walked south to 14th Street.  It was supposed to be a 5.2 mile walk, but we zigzagged east and west on our way down, so it ended up being at least 6.2 miles.  Maybe more.

It took us a good 3.5 hours to make our way down because we stopped to get lattes & oatmeal at Starbucks.  I hate Starbucks with a burning, seething passion, but my mornings aren't complete without oatmeal.  We also had to keep stopping to give Jabba water & let her rest.  We ended the walk by getting salads at Chop't & vegging out in the park near my work.  Now we're home and everyone's passed the fuck out except for me.

I'm fighting the urge to go take a long nap because I know it'll just screw up the frikking amazing night's rest I'll have tonight if I just stick it out.  More coffee, I guess!

First 5K's tomorrow.  I have to wake up at the buttcrack of dawn because the Bronx Zoo is — get this shit — an hour and 45 minutes from my place.  Race starts at 9am.  Two days in a row that I have to get up before the sun.  Anxiety.

The grillout was phenomenal.  I had a little preview of what's to come in 10 days, 21 hours and 44 minutes (thanks countdown widget!) when I sprawled out on a deck chair, shoulders naked to the sun.  The only difference is, my sun-worshiping dog won't be lying across my lap then.  I swear, she's the dog version of me.  We both closed our eyes and stared at the sun, and let out a deep sigh. 

Sadly it only lasted 10 minutes because we had a ton of work to do.  We weeded, turned the ground and got the garden prepped for planting sometime this week when we have a free night.  It took 4 hours and burned 1200 calories.  Score!  I also grilled, portioned out and froze enough meat to last me 5 days.  Double score!  I'm looking forward to a week of not cooking.

I woke up at 5 today to drag my ass to the gym for a workout with the trainer.  I bumped it up to 2 a week so I can maximize my beach sexiness.  Buahaha!  In all seriousness, I just purchased the first bikini I've owned since I was 6 years old.  I have to do that thing justice.  In related news, I tried on my bathing suit from two years ago and it fit....better than it ever has before.  The top, the bottom and the cute little board shorts that go with it.  Whoo!

I've been tired and feeling gross all day, so I treated myself to a latte. 

I signed up for the 5K solo.  Bradley's not a runner and he seemed way too hesitant to wake up early and trek to the Bronx at the buttcrack of dawn on a Saturday.  He did agree to meet up with me after the race with coffee, a hot thermos of oatmeal, and the dog.  And then we're going to do another 5 mile walk down the island.  This time on the west side of Central Park. 

We also signed up for the NY AIDS walk on May 17th.  It's a 10K walk that starts in Central Park, and Jabba's allowed in that one ^_^  They have water bowls for dogs at each checkpoint.  We decided to go all out and set up a donation page and everything.  I'm working on it right now.  So I'll get right down to the begging:  if you'd like to make a tax-deductable contribution to an awesome cause, I'll post a friends-only link and you can take that to my fundraising page.  Check out a list of all the organizations that'll benefit from your donation.  And, as an added bonus, if you decide to donate, I'll send you a batch of my homemade biscotti.  That's how I roll, babies!

We're grilling tomorrow!  Grilling!  On a grill! 

We've done that, like, twice since we've moved to NYC so it's kind of a big deal.  Bradley and I dream of someday owning a back yard with a grill.  And, uh, maybe a house.  I shit you not, when we talk about home ownership, we mostly just verbally daydream about how amazing it would be to have a yard and a grill.  Why?  Because a) we could install a doggy door and let Jabba take her own ass out in the morning, and b) we could grill 20 times a day if we wanted.

And then there are the memories.  Every time I smell a grill going, I remember when Bradley and I first started dating.  I'd drive up to Hinkley (Stinkley) and we'd run to Daggets, the shitty grocery store around the corner.  Then we'd fire up the grill and we'd sizzle some steaks while he'd make a big bowl of his garlic mashed potatoes.  He'd do all the work, and I'd kick my feet up and let the sun burn me to a crisp.  That fucker made me fat and I had to basically put a ban on those mashed potatoes indefinitely.  Lawsie.  It makes my thighs swell up just thinking about it. 

Bradley's boss is letting us plant a garden in his yard, and he gave us free reign over his grill while we're there.  Score!  I have a ton of work to do on an extracurricular design project in addition to the gardening work, so I'm taking my laptop and multitasking.  I guess we're spending the night chopping veggeis and prepping burgers for tomorrow.  Can't wait!*

* No sarcasm there.  Seriously.  The highlight of my Friday is going home to the boy and cooking a meal with him.  And then snuggling on the couch to watch a movie.  And harassing him to rub my feet.  I love being married.

Get these muthafucking snakes off this muthafucking plane!  Yup.  That happened.

In other news:

1. Oatmeal + a date + a dark chocolate walnut Nectar Cacao bar, all crumbled up and sprinkled on top of the oatmeal = a heaven I can actually believe in.
2. I got my bank troubles cleared up.  My very nice banker set up a new account for me and we're gradually phasing out my old account so the jerkoffs can't keep taking money out.  So far so good!  I just have to wait for a couple of bills to clear and I'm done.
3. As of today, I've officially lost 10 lbs of body fat.  Here's an amazing picture of a lady(?) named Bernice holding a plastic model of what 10 lbs of fat looks like.  I'm struttin'.
4. Three musicians / bands that cheer me up no matter how shitty a day I'm having:  Cake, Johnny Cash and Queen.
5. We haven't been to a Saturday morning yoga class in weeks.  I think it's half because I'm always exhausted and sore on Saturday from my intense Friday morning workout with the trainer.  And half because we're lazy fat fucks.
6. I want to get a haircut.  Something....drastic.  Remember when I used to do that, like, every 3 weeks back in Minneapolis?  Ahhh memories.
7. I've been getting easily irritated by people I know.  It's always for the same reason:  they complain nonstop about stuff but don't do anything to change the situation.  Which is totally fine.  To each his own.  But having to sit through the complaining and being too polite to say "Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up, already"?  That sucks.
8. It's going to be in the 70s this weekend.  The 70s!!!  I don't even remember what that feels like.  What is this "warm" you speak of?

I noticed a charge on my debit card yesterday that I didn't make.  I tracked down the company and spent 3 hours on the phone yelling at some customer service (and I use that term loosely) guy in India.  I did some research online and realized this is a scammer company that's stealing from people.  I found thousands of the same complaints all over the internets.

Apparently they got my info through a Hotwire.com transaction where they were running a promo and I forgot to uncheck a box as I purchased my plane tickets.  I managed to close 3 memberships (that I didn't even fucking open!) but they opened up who-knows-how-many others with their "affiliate" companies.  They wouldn't even tell me the names of the affiliate companies and they wouldn't give me a way to close those memberships.

I'm leaving work early to the bank to transfer all my funds to a new account.  I have to wait for a couple of days for my direct deposit paycheck and some bills I just paid that haven't gone through yet.  Ugggggh.

And now some positive stuff to get my blood pressure back to normal:

+ A girl at the gym asked me how I "did it."  As in how I lost weight over the past 3 months she's seen me at the gym.  An awesome way to start the day.

+ Bradley & I had a "holy shit" moment when he realized I have a two-pack now.  Of abs, that is.  No joke.  And this is at 10 pm after a day of eating and drinking water and junk.  BEEFCAKE!!

+ My new fave blog introduced me to my new fave web app:  todoist.com.  It was made for anal list-makers like me.

+ I picked up a coffee filter thingy that you place on top of your own coffee mug to brew a single serving.  No more shiteous work coffee for me!  I bring my own grinds from home and enjoy the good stuff.  Best part:  it was only $2.50 at my fave grocery store. Booyah!

+ I've been, um, growing out my leg hair so I can get it waxed the week before we go to the DR.  This has made for some major awkwardness as I change in the locker room.  For me, I mean.  I don't know if anyone else has noticed because, hell, I don't know if anyone else is looking around.  Either way, today was one of those days where I felt like, "Fuck it, it is what it is," and I didn't feel ashamed to be walking around with a little towel wrapped around my waist and my sasquatch gams all hanging out.  I've never been the most comfortable with either nudity or with my body so this is a huuuuuge, albiet kinda gross step for me.  If I can do this, then bathing suit shopping is a piece of cake.  I'm finally starting to get comfortable in my own skin.

+ Leena and oatmeal sitting in a tree!  Oatmeal has changed my life.  Yes I realized how stupid that sounds, but I'm 100% serious.  I wake up every day and have a quickie bowl of puffed wheat cereal with fruit and then run to the gym to get my sweat on.  And then I get to work and have a bowl of oatmeal.  Sometimes with nuts or almond butter mixed in.  Sometimes made with hemp milk instead of water.  Sometimes just plain with a protein shake on the side.  Maybe a little agave nectar or some berries mixed in.  Oatmeal time is the most zen 15 minutes of my day.  There's just something so warm and comforting about a big warm bowl of the thick, rich, gooey stuff.  And then work starts and it's stress city.  *Le sigh*  The best thing ever is making a big bowl of steel cut oats on Saturday morning & eating it in bed while sipping coffee and listening to Bradley, Jabba and Smokey snoring in synch. ^_^

A health nut coworker-friend of mine emailed to let me know about a 5k to raise money for endangered gorillas.  It's a run/walk through the Bronx zoo, which I've heard nothing but great things about.  It's one of those place I've been meaning to go but never had an excuse to trek way the hell up to the Bronx for.  So even though I'm a little intimidated by the idea of actually signing up for a race, I'm doing it.  This is untimed and non-competitive, so pretty low pressure.  And if the weather cooperates, it'll be a really great way to spend a Saturday.  Besides, there's a green expo afterwards and that means free stuff! ^_^

I managed to talk Bradley into doing this with me.  He was totally trying to squeeze his way out of it because he hates running.  There was definitely a little emotional blackmailing on my part ("Think of those big, brown gorilla eyes...).  OK, fine, maybe I pulled out the big guns on this one ("If you don't do this, it means you hate gorillas and you're singlehandedly responsible for the death of each and every one.")  I also had to remind him of the 5 mile walk down Central Park we did a few weekends ago.  It was way fun quality time together. 

He finally (and begrudgingly) agreed to do it if I a) pay for his entry fee, b) treat him to a bagel breakfast before the race, and c) take him out to lunch at a place of his choosing.  He also said he won't be running, but that he'll walk with "occasional light jogging."  Muahahaha!  He's a difficult man, but he secretly has a soft spot in his heart for gorillas...and me.

17 days till we're on a beach sipping rum and getting killer tans slathering SPF 70 on our very nice, very expensive tattoos so we don't ruin them.  Every night I find myself fighting the urge to throw my sundresses & flip flops into my backpack.  I'm soooo ready to get outta here. 

Shit I need to do before then:

1. Get 2 or 3 new bathing suits (eeps!).
2. Get sunglasses, which hopefully insurance will cover.
3. Buy a new digital camera al-fucking-ready (we take such good care of our shit that we're still rocking a 3 megapixel piece of shit from, like, 6 years ago).
4. Visit ye olde salon for an everything-below-the-waist wax job, mani & pedi.

Yipes.  It's gonna be a packed couple of weeks.

So I finally worked up the nerve to ditch processed foods.  It's been a long time coming.  With a few exceptions, I've given it all up.  Ideally I'd like to give up anything that doesn't grow from the ground or have a mother, but I'm realistic.  Some things you just can't give up.  Most things, though, you totally can.  And it's surprisingly easy to jump in and just do it.

( Read more... )

It hurts to be this awesome.  No really. 

I just made and devoured the hell out of a grilled turkey, spinach & fresh mozzarella panini topped with homemade spicy mayonnaise.  It was good.  How good was it?  It was so good that I want the same thing for lunch tomorrow.  And then I want to marry it and have its babies.  And then eat those babies because that's how delicious this sammich was. 

Mah bellah is happah.

What's the big deal about a friggin' panini, you may be asking.  Well I'll tell you what the big deal is, jerk:  I haven't had bread in so long that I don't really even remember what bread tastes like.  Very good, I imagine, but that's besides the point.  I can't have bread (or pasta or rice or any other white carb) thanks to my thyroid disease.  And I was recently diagnosed with an autoimmune disease that erodes my stomach lining and prevents me, among other things, from absorbing vitamin B.  Doh!  That pretty much seals the deal that I will never have another piece of bread again.

So this panini.  It was made from a couple of slices of homemade wheat-and-gluten-free "bread" that looks and has the texture of actual bread.  It was to die for.  And it was such a different experience having a real sammich that you pick up with your hands — with your hands!!! None of that lettuce rollup shit.  Yup, it's been that long.  I could cry.

I'm off to make another sammich for tomorrow's lunch.