Recently my brother commented on Facebook that he was now the proud owner of a Fitbit and I made the typical little-sister snarky comment about needing one in order to add another facet to my life-long competition with him. I'm only competitive with him because he's smarter than I am and it pisses me off; but I have more college degrees, so there. Anyways, I had been a little curious about them for a while and decided what the heck. Today I went out and bought one, its pink since Lorelai helped me pick it out, and it's bitchen.
The technology they fit into this miniscule computer is amazing. And it's pink and has flashing lights on it.
In the 9ish hours I've had the thing I've noticed a few things.
1. It gets a little confused if you put in a target weight over your current weight. Yes, over. I want to gain weight but don't want to do it by sitting on my ass and eating potato chips. Not that that doesn't sound fantastic in its own way.
2. Apparently the average Fitbit user doesn't drink much bourbon, its not an option in the searchable foods. Yes, bourbon is food.
3. I find myself more than a little irritated I didn't get "credit" for the 5k "run" I did this morning before I bought the thing. I'm a little worried I'm going to get obsessive about this thing. But it's ok because it is pink and has flashing lights on it.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Empty Blog
Tonight I had an idea for a post and was shocked to discover its been almost a year since I posted anything... I was also surprised to discover the drafts of several posts I wrote but never published. You see, the only time I really have to write is late at night and generally only bother to turn on the computer to do so if I'm fired up about something... I write stream of consciousness and when I've read what I wrote, I decide its either too personal, snarky, or opinionated to put out there, or that no one would care anyways, so I don't bother.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Separate Lives
I lead two very different lives. In one, I'm a single working mom with two kids, my parents, and a dog. I do math problems at the dinner table and read Harry Potter at bedtime. I deal with therapists, music lessons, and Girl Scout meetings. In the other, I'm a single working girl with a dog and an amazing boyfriend. I have discussions about negligence of duty and the nesting habits of migratory rock pigeons.
Usually these two lives transition over the course of a work day. I go to work from one life, and come home to the other. Today one life ended roughly 30 hours before the other could begin. I didn't quite know what to do with myself so I watched lots and lots of The West Wing.
Usually these two lives transition over the course of a work day. I go to work from one life, and come home to the other. Today one life ended roughly 30 hours before the other could begin. I didn't quite know what to do with myself so I watched lots and lots of The West Wing.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Mac and Cheese
I had a weekend alone with the kids recently. The weather was mediocre at best so we didn't want to do much outside... bring on Jammies Day! We spent most of Sunday in our jammies with the blinds drawn, curled up on the couch in a blanket watching movies together. We finally had to emerge from our comfort cave sometime in the afternoon to procure some sustenance.
I had declared that the kids were in charge of dinner both nights as a project for them, and because I hate deciding what to eat. I hate it so much that sometimes I forgo the decision process entirely and just don't bother eating. Not a smart habit to instill in one's children. Anyways, Lorelai chose Saturday night and Spencer got Sunday. They got to pick anything they wanted but there was a catch: they had to cook!
Lorelai went safe and chose pizza. Trader Joe's pizza dough and sauce and some cheese and voila! dinner.
Spence tried to play it safe and chose mac and cheese. I said that was fine but he was going to learn how to make real macaroni and cheese, not the blue box. We found a recipe online, went to the store for ingredients and with a little help measuring from me, he made dinner.
The result looked yummy:
but didn't come out so hot (shame on you Alton Brown and your meh recipe!)
The proud moment for me was that they were both troopers and made a valiant effort to actually eat the resulting product.
Moral of the story: when you want mac and cheese just make the Kraft. Face it, its what you really want.
I had declared that the kids were in charge of dinner both nights as a project for them, and because I hate deciding what to eat. I hate it so much that sometimes I forgo the decision process entirely and just don't bother eating. Not a smart habit to instill in one's children. Anyways, Lorelai chose Saturday night and Spencer got Sunday. They got to pick anything they wanted but there was a catch: they had to cook!
Lorelai went safe and chose pizza. Trader Joe's pizza dough and sauce and some cheese and voila! dinner.
Spence tried to play it safe and chose mac and cheese. I said that was fine but he was going to learn how to make real macaroni and cheese, not the blue box. We found a recipe online, went to the store for ingredients and with a little help measuring from me, he made dinner.
The result looked yummy:
but didn't come out so hot (shame on you Alton Brown and your meh recipe!)The proud moment for me was that they were both troopers and made a valiant effort to actually eat the resulting product.
Moral of the story: when you want mac and cheese just make the Kraft. Face it, its what you really want.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Tongue-Tied
I know... I haven't posted anything in months. I suck as a blogger. Thank heavens I have a day job. The problem is I still don't feel like I can share the things I want to say. I've started posts in my head every couple of weeks only to abandon them as being too much information. I've even considered starting another blog, not linked to me in any way, with names changed to protect the innocent (and guilty I suppose) just so I would have a place to organize and vent my thoughts.
I mentioned months ago that I wasn't comfortable sharing what was going on in my life. Unfortunately, all that crap is still going on. My last trip to court was in September and the divorce STILL isn't final. Actually, I guess it doesn't matter if the paperwork is done or not since that wasn't really my reason for not sharing. I don't feel comfortable saying anything here that I wouldn't say in front of my kids. My closest friends and family know the details of my life, all the crap that has gone on over the last 8 or so years, and the final straws that led me to file for divorce but the kids have been sheltered from the truth.
That's not to say I've lied to my children. I have never told them anything that wasn't true. I've just left out some of the uglier bits. They are too young to absorb and analyze the facts of the situation. My daughter has accepted the fact that we're divorcing but she recently let me know that she was mad that no one had told her why we split. I gave her an 8-year-old-appropriate version of some, but not all, of the reasons. She absorbed it and seems to have moved on but my son still doesn't get it. Its almost a year and a half since we separated and he still asks me why Daddy doesn't live at home anymore and when Daddy is moving back. I give him the politically-correct, good co-parent lines about us not being able to make each other happy anymore, how we're both able to be better parents to him if we aren't together, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. We've had that conversation over and over again... and he still doesn't accept it. I can't tell him the truth. He's 5.
I mentioned months ago that I wasn't comfortable sharing what was going on in my life. Unfortunately, all that crap is still going on. My last trip to court was in September and the divorce STILL isn't final. Actually, I guess it doesn't matter if the paperwork is done or not since that wasn't really my reason for not sharing. I don't feel comfortable saying anything here that I wouldn't say in front of my kids. My closest friends and family know the details of my life, all the crap that has gone on over the last 8 or so years, and the final straws that led me to file for divorce but the kids have been sheltered from the truth.
That's not to say I've lied to my children. I have never told them anything that wasn't true. I've just left out some of the uglier bits. They are too young to absorb and analyze the facts of the situation. My daughter has accepted the fact that we're divorcing but she recently let me know that she was mad that no one had told her why we split. I gave her an 8-year-old-appropriate version of some, but not all, of the reasons. She absorbed it and seems to have moved on but my son still doesn't get it. Its almost a year and a half since we separated and he still asks me why Daddy doesn't live at home anymore and when Daddy is moving back. I give him the politically-correct, good co-parent lines about us not being able to make each other happy anymore, how we're both able to be better parents to him if we aren't together, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. We've had that conversation over and over again... and he still doesn't accept it. I can't tell him the truth. He's 5.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Who Am I?
I had assumed I would keep my married name after the divorce was final simply because it would be less complicated to have the same last name as my children, though I actually hadn't really given it much thought.
Until yesterday afternoon.
After we were done yesterday, my attorney let me know he still had some questions to ask (even though I'd testified for almost 3 hours already). They were the basic required questions to establish that I had filed with the court to dissolve the marriage, that there were irreconcilable differences, and if I was requesting that the court restore me to my former name. That got the wheels turning last night.
I thought about the pros and cons, considered the simplicity of sameness, and the issue of explaining a change to the kids. I realized that many children have different names than their mother, whether by divorce or design. After all, some women never take their new husband's name upon marriage in the first place.
Then I thought of how it would feel to be a Beck again.
So when my attorney asked me the question on the stand this morning I said that yes, I was requesting the court restore me to my former name. From that point on my attorney referred to me as "Dr. Beck" and it felt fabulous.
I made the right decision for me.
Until yesterday afternoon.
After we were done yesterday, my attorney let me know he still had some questions to ask (even though I'd testified for almost 3 hours already). They were the basic required questions to establish that I had filed with the court to dissolve the marriage, that there were irreconcilable differences, and if I was requesting that the court restore me to my former name. That got the wheels turning last night.
I thought about the pros and cons, considered the simplicity of sameness, and the issue of explaining a change to the kids. I realized that many children have different names than their mother, whether by divorce or design. After all, some women never take their new husband's name upon marriage in the first place.
Then I thought of how it would feel to be a Beck again.
So when my attorney asked me the question on the stand this morning I said that yes, I was requesting the court restore me to my former name. From that point on my attorney referred to me as "Dr. Beck" and it felt fabulous.
I made the right decision for me.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
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