My husband who has introduced me to the joys of love and commitment has also introduced me to Philly cheesesteaks and babyback ribs. My husband who has the fastest metabolism on earth took over the cooking of dinner this summer, the grill season. Needless to say that the 10 pounds I thought would drop when Emily weened stayed put and I've been doing a ton of cardio and calorie counting (a new concept for me) to get it off. I am SORE, kids. Sore, sore, sore. The good news is that I've lost 4 pounds in the past week. The bad news is that it's probably just water, but it does give me incentive.
Did you know that one (1!) babyback rib has 810 calories and 64.8 grams of fat? Never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed. My heart almost seized up when I read that little tidbit.
Since I hate anything math like I'm happy to have stumbled across the Spark website. It's a free site that has charts to help you keep track of calories, fat, and protein intake, as well as the amount of calories you burn through cardio and strength training. It's not a diet, it's more of a lifestyle change. For me, it's brought a lot of awareness. For example I won't be eating any of my husband's cooking ever again. Gina, who is much more knowledgeable about these things than I am, says the the daily recommendations on Spark are typical of the food pyramid--mostly carbs, less fat, and even less protein, but it's a step in the right direction. (Aren't you glad you stopped by today? This post is all about literature, people.)
My seventeen year-old nephew went back to California last night. He was here for two weeks and it was great to spend some time with him, he's very, very sweet. I'm going to miss him.
Speaking of teenagers, mine had a rite of passage yesterday. He went to his first concert. Not just any concert, but Ozzfest. This is a new phase, the heavy metal phase. A mother (not me) took three fifteen year-old boys to the festival and stayed with them through the whole thing. I'm going to buy her flowers. The boys might think she's a cool mom, but I think she's a goddess.
On Friday, we're surprising my three year-old with this. His very own rite of passage.