30 by 30

I am hereby declairing my weight loss intentions publicly: I intend to lose approximately 30 more pounds by January 31, 2010.

You see, to this point, I have lost 30 pounds by using an online weight loss program. Check older posts if you're curious about which one. They're not paying me to advertise. ; )

However, about a month ago I plateaued. Not because the program quit working, but because I quit working. I haven't gained anything back, but I've also not lost any more. I got lazy about it.

On January 31, 2010, I will turn 30 years old. I'd like to celebrate this momentous occassion at my goal weight (technically, 31 more pounds, but "30 by 30" is catchier) and in the best shape of my life.

So I'm declaring my intentions publicly to give myself the extra dose of motivation I need. I hate losing and I really hate letting people down. (I know you probably don't care, but humor me.)

In order to do reach my goal, I will stay within my weekly allotted food intake, and I will exercise moderately for at least 30 minutes, at least three times each week.

I will keep myself accountable to the blogging world with a tally of weight loss in the right hand column, which I will update every Monday. And should I exceed my caloric intake OR neglect to exercise, I will post this information, as well.

Gulp. This is really scary.

But I can, AND WILL, do it!

29 reasons I can't dispute the result

I just took another Facebook quiz, and the results have cut straight to the heart.

Just when I was getting used to the idea of turning 30 (start planning your over-the-hill themed presents now; you've still got about 6 months), I find out that I'm actually much older.

According to Facebook, I act like I'm 43. Wow. That's rough.

Of course, I mean no offense to any 40-somethings who may be reading this. It's just that ... well ... would you want to be accused of acting 14 years older than you really are? I didn't think so.

What's worse is that I think it might be right. In honor of my biological age, here's 29 reasons why I may, in fact, be confused with a middle-aged woman:

1. I drive a mini-van


2. And I think it's cool.


3. I'm routinely plucking grey hairs from the top of my head


4. And from my face.


5. I have, on multiple occassions, scheduled my evening around the late night show.


6. That is, on the few occasions where I was up past 10 p.m.


7. I recently bought a hideous pair of shorts, with an elastic waistband, because they were $6.


8. Then I wore them in public.


9. I own a swimsuit with a built-in skirt.


10. And the only reason I quit wearing it was because I'd had it so long it was becoming see-through.


11. I buy underwear based on practicality.


12. It's been at least six months since I've seen the end of a movie without falling asleep.


13. I've used the term "blouse" in the last week.


14. I refer to college students as kids.


15. And I don't understand what the kids are in to.


16. I can count the texts I've sent -- ever -- on my fingers.


17. I eat Fiber One bars for breakfast (They're REALLY good).


18. I gripe about commercials being too loud.


19. I do not know, nor do I care, who Lady Gaga is.


20. But I do crank up the radio when Phillips, Craig and Dean are singing.


21. Or when a Mr. Big song comes on


22. Or Lionel Ritchie


23. Or Aerosmith


24. Or D.C. Talk


25. Or practically any hair band from the early 90s.


26. The last time I saw Zach Effron, my first thought was, "Why doesn't that boy cut his hair?"


27. My purse is large enough to house a small family of rodents.


28. I have no desire to read or see Twilight. It's not a moral stance. It just seems absurd to me.


29. My favorite attraction at Disney World was the Hall of Presidents.

Wow, when I put this all together, I realize I'm even lamer than I thought.

Perhaps I'm more like 73.

The beginning of letting go

This morning began with incredible news. As of 4:35 a.m. today, our good friends Frank and Mary are the proud parents of a new baby girl, Macy Elizabeth.

Wow! Of course we’ve known this was coming for months, but there’s just something about new life. It always catches you off guard in the most wonderfully exciting way.

Therefore, we’ve also known for months that we needed to make alternate arrangements for childcare, since Mary watches Emma during the day. And we did. After checking out local day care options, we decided on a center that was a good fit for Emma and relatively affordable (in a “we’re already going into debt anyway” sort of way).

In other words, I was technically prepared.

But for whatever reason, I wasn’t mentally prepared to send Emma to daycare today. Maybe it’s because her free “trial” day wasn’t scheduled until this Thursday. I don’t know. All I know is that I was a nervous wreck all morning.

I pictured my precious little girl scared in the care of strangers, confused by why her mommy and daddy had abandoned her.

That’s partly why I got ready at record speed this morning; so that I would have time to give her lots and lots of extra attention. I also wanted to allow ample time to introduce her to her teacher and to make her feel comfortable with the new routine.

We shared breakfast in the living room, so that she could watch Dora, her favorite cartoon. Then when she requested a pink, butterfly clip for her hair – a clip I hadn’t seen for weeks – I hunted through the back of the drawer as if my life depended on it. Phew! I found it.

By the time we pulled out of our driveway, my nerves were shot to the point of nausea. For a split second, I contemplated, “How I will ever survive the first day of kindergarten if this is what pre-school does to me?”

We arrived at the center, and I psyched myself up for what was sure to be a difficult goodbye. I could already anticipate the guilt I’d feel as she’d tearfully beg me to stay. But we walked in anyway.

The greeter efficiently welcomed me, and then she ushered us to Emma’s new home away from home.

That’s when it all fell apart.

It only took one look at all the toys and kids in the room, and a huge smile broke out on Emma’s face. I asked, “Are you excited?” and she literally started jumping up and down.

Emma gave me a quick hug around my legs, mostly to humor me, and then she was off. Off to explore and play without as much as a look back in my direction.

Seriously?! How could she do that to me? She didn’t even know these people! How could she abandon me like that?!

Yes, I’m not ashamed to admit it: I needed a longer, drawn out hug to assure me everything was going to be okay.

Before heading out the door, I asked if it would be alright if I called around lunch time to see how she was adjusting. Clearly used to nervous parents, the kind woman told me, “Yes, you can call as often as you like.”

So just after noon, I called for a progress report. They told me she’d eaten almost all of her lunch (which she doesn’t do at home) and that she had just closed her eyes for a nap (which she also won’t do at home).

The woman asked for my e-mail address to send me pictures of Emma’s first day, and the pictures corroborated her testimony. Emma was having a ball.

Sigh.

I suppose I should be grateful that I’m raising a confident girl. She knows the mommy who dropped her off at daycare will also be there to pick her up.

I should also be happy that she can roll with the punches. That she can, as her name means, “embrace everything” that life throws her, seeing it as an opportunity for adventure.

But at the moment, I’m just not feeling it. Not one bit.

Instead I find myself a little sad. Suddenly I realize, this is just the beginning of a lifetime of learning to let go.

My latest addiction - Part II

A couple weeks ago, I posted a blog about being addicted to Twitter. And even though I was mostly trying to be funny, there was some truth there.

So if you did check me out on Twitter, you might have scratched your head at my last tweet (assuming you give a rip):

“Trying to reclaim my life from techno overload. So long Twitter. It's been fun”

What transpired in the short time period between my public confession of addiction, and my sign-off to the Twitter world? A reality check.

I realized technology had crept into every facet of my life, slowly undermining my time and relationships. I was tweeting, networking with friends on Facebook, checking my e-mails incessantly from my Blackberry, blogging, IM-ing, and even tracking points for my diet online. I was so caught up with the virtual world that I was missing out on the real one.

Fearing I’d lost complete touch with reality, I quickly signed off of the most recent techno parasite: Twitter.

Then, a couple days after my last tweet, I received an eerie confirmation I’d made the right decision through an article in Christianity Today. One paragraph reads, “I often find myself so drawn to my Blackberry and laptop that I fail to be present with the flesh and blood person who is standing before me. I look at them and pretend like I'm listening, but my mind strains to get back to my email.” (From “Does Twitter do us any good?” by Mark Galli, CT online, June 2009)

Wow. I could have written that.

It’s not that I think technology is all bad, or that I’ve sworn it off completely. Obviously… I posted this blog, didn’t I?

My blackberry helps me keep in control of my inbox when I’m away from my desk for meetings. Facebook helps me keep up with the latest pictures and stories about family members who are hundreds of miles away. Weight Watchers online has helped me lose 30 pounds so far.

I’m not saying goodbye to technology. I’m just renewing my commitment to keep it all in check.

It’s kind of funny. The day I said good-bye to Twitter, I suddenly received several e-mails notifying me I had new followers. Really? Did they not read what I just said?

Actually, part of me wonders if they started following me so that they will be notified at the exact moment I relapse. If so, I have to say, “Sorry tweoples. You’ll be sadly disappointed.”

I’ve left Twitter for the real world, and I don’t plan on coming back any time soon.

My latest addiction

Back in the 90s, when Capri pants first came back in style, I hated them. Despised them. Thought they were the dumbest thing I’d ever seen.

Then there were Macs. Uh, you mean the same outdated devices I used in second grade with the green flashing cursor? I don’t think so. Microsoft’s got the market cornered.

And more recently, Facebook. Don’t even get me started on Facebook. A pretentious site for the “I’m much too sophisticated for MySpace” crowd.


All of these things were silly fads not worthy of my attention. That was, of course, until I adopted them all as my own.

I’m what communications scholar Everett Rogers would label a late majority adopter (my comm profs would be so proud!) AND I HATE THAT.

When it comes to all things trendy, I always start to think something’s cool long after the real trendsetters have moved on to something else. I’m such a loser!

And now it’s happened again.

I’ve been revolting against Twitter for months now – claiming it to be a ginormous waste of time and completely narcissistic. I couldn’t see the point.

Until this week. At the urging of several people much cooler than I’ll ever be, I started playing with it — and now I’m completely and utterly addicted. Every time I say something that makes me laugh or I find particularly clever (Yes… I am my biggest fan), I think, “Oooh, I should put that on Twitter.”

It’s really quite pathetic. I’m limiting myself to four tweets a day, just so I don’t come across as completely self-centered or desperate for attention. That may be the reality, but I certainly don’t want the cool kids on Twitter to know.

And like every good addict, I’m not just using. I’m pushing.

This morning, as I sat in Starbucks sipping my latte — yes, the same drink I used to declare the overpriced version of what I could easily buy at Speedway —I sang the wonders of Twitter to our university chaplain. With heartfelt conviction, I did my best to convince Chap Daddy that this is the best way for him to be an effective minister to the lost.

So yes, I’m a Twittering fool. But this is it. I mean it. This will be the LAST trend I jump on board with late in the game.

Unless everybody’s doing it.

www.twitter.com/quiteaday

How Nazarene are you?

I'm not a big fan of Facebook quizzes. If you've sent them to me, I've probably ignored them. I don't care what 80s sitcom character I am, what book best represents me, or what my stripper name would be.

But I saw one the other day that intrigued me. "How Nazarene are you?" Hmm.... this might be interesting, I thought.

So I took it. And after successfully answering basic questions about our church structure and history, I was declared a "Manuel Memorizer." Wow! Who knew?

I must admit, though, I was a little disappointed. Who cares if I know how many general superintendents we have or how often General Assembly takes place? Anybody can figure those out. (No offense to Stephanie, who bombed the test).

No, I think there's much more complexity in identifying a purebred Nazarene. Ask yourself these questions:

• Did your mom shed a tear or two when she ironed your Phineas S. Bresee award on your Caravan scarf?


• Have you driven out of town to watch a perfectly clean movie, so that no one would see you?


• When your friends start swapping stories about random celebrity run-ins, do you tell about the time you saw a general superintendent buying doughnuts at the grocery store?


• Did you hold two receptions for your wedding -- one for the church, and the other a secret celebration with you and your dancing friends?


• Do you own a collection of polyester dresses from your years on the Impact team?


• When you hear the letters NYC, do you think of massive teen gathering instead of a major U.S. city?


• (For women only) Do you remember a time when you couldn't wear pants to church because it was too provocative?


• (For men only) Have you ever felt guilty for staring at a provocative woman who was wearing pants to church?


• After years in teen Bible quizzing, do you still twitch your right butt cheek when you want to be the first to answer a question?


• If a short-cut in the grocery store meant going through the alcohol aisle, would you take the longer route just so no one thinks you've backslidden?


• Are you excited that this year's family vacation will be in Orlando, because you've seen just about all there is to see in Indianapolis?


• Have you calculated which direction you need to turn to face Kansas City when praying?


• When you're telling someone what part of the country you're from, do you automatically include the name of the nearest Nazarene college or university?


• When the song leader announces you'll be singing "Called Unto Holiness," do you set down the hymnal because you already know the words?


• Do any of your children have Wesley as a first or middle name?


• Do the highlights of your social calendar revolve around a potluck dinner or Old Country Buffet?

If you answered "Yes" to five or more of these questions, congratulations!

You are officially Nazarene through and through, and I'll see you in Orlando.

When I think of M-O-T-H-E-R

I had the distinct pleasure of singing with my mom at at mother-daughter banquet Friday night.

It all started when our ladies council president asked if anyone knew any songs about moms, and I said I'd heard one before. At the time, I didn't know any of the words, except, "M is for the million things she gave me." That qualified me to research and sing the song.

Thanks to ever faithful informational highway, I found it... and it was terrible. Here's the first verse:

I've been around the world, you bet, but never went to school. Hard knocks are all I seem to get, perhaps I've been a fool; But still, some educated folks, supposed to be so swell, Would fail if they were called upon a simple word to spell.

The composer then goes on to sing the traits of his beloved madre, each line beginning with the letters which spell out M-O-T-H-E-R. I'm sure it was touching in 1915 when it was first written, but it left me unimpressed.

Agreeing it was lame, my mom and I decided to write our own lyrics, updated for the women of 2009. (Watch here)

I don't know if anyone else really found our song funny, but we cracked each other up. And the process of writing and performing our song reminded me of just how special my mother really is.
So, sparing any form of spelling theme or alliteration, here's what I think of when I think of my mother:

- A woman who was widely known as the coolest counselor at kids camp.

- A woman whose vocal talent I first became aware of when my 4th grade music teacher told me she had the loveliest Soprano voice he'd ever heard.

- A woman who made the best with what she had, sewing us clothes throughout elementary school and convincing us they were stylish.

- A woman who treated Bible quizzing like an extreme sport.

- A woman who came to every single basketball game I ever played, no matter how busy she was.

-A woman who modeled what it means to love God's Word, as day after day, I'd find her pouring over the pages of her Bible.

- A woman who knows how to make the piano sing.

- A woman who never gives up the faith, no matter what life throws at her.

- A woman who always has a hug, a kiss and a sucker for my daughter.

- A woman who makes me laugh, and is there to hold me when I cry.

- A woman who I count as my dearest friend.

Happy (belated) Mother's Day, mom. I love you!