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Friday, March 31, 2006

Not Your Ordinary Cold

I don't think this is just a cold -- where symptoms usually begin to disappear after 24 hours -- this, I believe, is the flu. Yesterday, as the day progressed, I felt worse and worse (a little like death warmed over), so I called in sick not only to the restaurant but to school as well, and I got a substitute for my evening class. I never do that. A fever persisted all day and my body ached down to its core. I took aspirin throughout the day, and while it would temporarily alleviate the aches and chills, it certainly was not a cure.

This morning I can't report that I feel much better. I still feel feverish, achy, and sore. I feel tired and I have a pounding headache. I started off the morning with a few more aspirin, but after these, I think I'll lay off -- I don't trust taking that many aspirin, and in its own way, a fever is working to help my body get rid of the virus, and I don't want to slow that process down.

Now the dilema I face once again is whether or not to call in sick to work. I have class in the early afternoon and then I'm supposed to work at the restaurant this evening. I think I can do class today -- it's a short class, but should I call in to the restaurant? I think so just because I feel as though I will need more rest this evening, and the idea of waiting on tables on a Friday night (when it will be very busy) does not sound like a good idea. Plus, I'm of the mind that sick employees in a restaurant should stay home since most customers don't appreciate a sick person serving them their food, but when I called in yesterday the management kinda made a big fuss over my absence. And I'm the sort of person who tries to please everyone and make them like me, so I don't want to be the "difficult" employee.

Ridiculous, I know.

I suppose I will decide what to do this afternoon after class; I'll see how I feel then.

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Sick, Again

I just had a cold about two months ago, and to be honest, I felt like I never entirely got over it (I had this hacking cough for forever), and now here I am again feeling like crap. Yesterday morning I felt very tired and kinda achy, and as the day wore on, I felt ickier and ickier (yes, that is the technical term). So, last night I tossed and turned and was, in turns, chilled and then sweaty.

Now, today I feel like a lukewarm piece of poo, and even though I feel absolutely icky, I am still wrestling with the issue of whether to call into work or not. I am scheduled for a lunch shift at the restaurant and I teach this evening. I don't want to cancel my class, and I can probably struggle through that, but I don't think I want to be serving food with snot dripping out of my nose. I might call in sick at the restaurant. Yet, I hate calling in sick -- for some reason, it feels as though I'm making it up, even when I'm not.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006


I have not run in over two weeks. Yes, it's true. I got a part-time job waiting tables at a nearby restaurant to supplement my teaching income, and "part-time" must not have the same meaning to some people as it does to others because I was looking for about 3 shifts a week, and yet I have been scheduled every available shift since I started. So between that, teaching, grading papers, taking care of Scooter (mangy, wormy little fella he's turned out to be), and trying to see my husband, I haven't had a spare second.

Last week I was at least good at getting to spinning and yoga, but so far this week has been a bust, and I have opted for sleep when the opportunity has presented itself. Even though waiting tables is good exercise (lots of walking, lifting heavy trays, carrying plates, drinks), it's not running and I miss my runs, but as I look at this week's schedule, it feels like a daunting task to consider a run.

I thought I would just grin and bare it with the restaurant schedule, but looks like I'll have to say something -- soon. I don't want to be scheduled like this again next week. I will end up strangling someone.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Doctor Dissapointment

Well, I was a little put out yesterday by NOT being wieghed at the doctor's office. What kind of place was this? The nurse simply asked me my weight; I said, "Don't you want to weigh me?" She said, "No, it's okay, you can just tell me your weight." Dammit! I guess I have to be satisfied with the home scale report. That, or I could use the fancy doctor-like scale at the gym (I just don't want anyone peeking over my shoulder for that).

Friday, March 24, 2006

The Weight of the Matter

This afternoon I have a doctor's appointment (just a regular yearly exam) and it will be the moment of truth. Every year I wait for that yearly check up to see what the doctor's scale reports. Sure, I have a scale at home, but I don't trust that it is the holy grail of accuracy. I'm sure it does an adequate job, but it always feels as though it's the doctor's scale that really tells you the truth.

But it depends on the doctor's office. Personally, I think it is inhumane to weigh someone with their shoes on, which has been done to me at past offices. And at home, I always weigh myself naked (to make sure those weighty clothes don't throw off my impression), but at the doctor's office that's not really an option, nor do I want it to be. Still, being weighed in potentially heavy clothes can be traumatizing. So, keeping shoes and clothes in mind, I usually try to wear the lightest stuff I have -- flip flops, light weight capris (less fabric), and a t-shirt or thin sleeveless.

I know that there are more important things to be examined and checked up on at the doctor's office (like the hacking cough I've had for a month), but they are of little consequence compared with my weight. I hope to weigh in about six or seven pounds lighter than last year, but I guess part of that weight in will be determined by my shoes. Now, when they measure my height, I always pray that they'll let me leave my shoes on.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Jesus Drink

This week I have not been running; I don't know why, but the past two weeks have been difficult to find the motivation, but I have been attending spinning class and yoga, so I don't feel bad; I'm still getting good exercise, and sometimes it's fine to take time away from running. Plus, spinning offers a workout that is truly comparable to running, and with the classes I've attended this week I know I burned just as many calories in cycling as I do when I run.

This teacher has so much energy and she makes the class really challenging. Maybe it's just because I haven't regularly attended spinning in awhile, I'm not sure, but it sure does seem hard. I leave there having sweated out every bit of water I consumed since the third grade; she wrings us dry. As I mentioned before, I figured she had to be high on something to have that kind of energy, but then I found out that she's high on Christ. Yesterday before we began, she was wearing a church t-shirt over her sporty cycling clothes, and I noted the cross tatooed on her ankle; plus, the "glory to God" song she was singing pretty much sealed the deal. So, she loves Jesus.

That's fine. Personally, I think Jesus is a good example to live by, but how is it that the lord can bless those who worship him with so much excess "spirit"? Is this something that can be bottled? Because if so, I think it would make an excellent energy drink. Forget caffeine, electrolytes, sugar and other energy enhancing chemicals, maybe we all need holy water (I guess there is Kaballah water -- movie stars and Madonna drink it, maybe even bathe in it).

Anyway, she's a pretty good instructor -- the first to help me set up my bike correctly, and it is so much more comfortable now; I had it all wrong before. Now I can peddle better and, ultimately, work a little harder.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Near Naked

I don't know if I'll ever really get used to seeing naked women in the gym's locker room. I remember when I was kid and I took swimming lessons every summer at the Y that I would feel so embarassed seeing all those middle aged women walking around buck naked that I usually wore my suit under my clothes so that when I got there I could bypass the locker room and go straight into the pool area where I just had to peel off my t-shirt and shorts and dive in -- no nudity for me. Now, all those middle aged women who were so comfortable with their naked bodies twenty years ago are getting quite wrinkly and they're still walking around the locker room.

Personally, I don't know how they do it (maybe I'm just a little self-conscious, I don't know) because today there was this older woman doing her hair and makeup in front of the central mirrors, and she was completely nude. She didn't seem the least bit bothered walking around the locker room like that; meanwhile, I just ducked in there to pee and I had to avert my eyes and I felt like an eight year old at the Y again.

I have nothing against naked -- love naked -- but love it at home, not in front of strangers. And I know we're all women in there, and yes, everyone has the same parts, but Jesus, would it have killed that women to wrap a towel around her wrinkled ass? A towel is close to naked ("near naked" I might deem it) and it would be a lot more tolerable.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Late Comers

Yesterday I went to spinning and sweated my heart out -- that instructor is either on cocaine or she is just that energetic, I don't know, but she really pushed us and I must have sweated off about five pounds. She was a good instructor, as are most in my gym, and that's why I always feel bad when people walk in late to the classes. And they walk in not just two or three minutes past the hour, but sometimes they stroll in once the class is halfway over, and it feels so disruptive.

It's one thing during spinning since the music is loud and you're not trying to concentrate on anything, and it's their own business if they come late and have to fiddle with their bike settings while the rest of us are in the middle of our workout, but it's quite another when these people come into yoga late. For one thing, the yoga instructor always dims the lights, so if you're walking in from the gym, it takes awhile for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. But if you're there on time, you can get your mat set up before lights out and it's no problem; however, these late comers saunter in to the dark and are fumbling around with the mat and are searching for a place to sit down and it's quite disruptive when you are trying to be focused.

Last week, this woman came into yoga twenty-five minutes into the class and grabs a mat, and while you would think she'd just grab a spot close to the door, you'd be wrong because she had to settle into a place in the middle of the room -- a very inconvenient spot and two people around her had to adjust their mats to accomodate her. In the meantime, we're all in the middle of down dog and she's wrestling with her shoes and keys, etc making a lot of racket. Then her cell phone starts ringing ("Pump it" by the Black Eyed Peas -- so annoying); I thought the instructor might yell at her, but the instructor was calm and just ignored the interruption -- I guess yoga instructors have the peace of mind to disregard such rude behavior (I have yet to achieve that kind of Nirvana).

It makes me think that the class studios need a no interruption policy. All they need is a friendly sign that says -- "If you're late, don't come in." Well, the wording might need some tweaking, but you get the gist.

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Diary of an Inconsistent Runner

The past week was not a super-duper running week for me; in fact, I only ran one day. I did faithfully attend yoga class, but it was not the week for running. There are several excuses, but the bottom line is that I have just not had the energy or the focus this week to commit to my schedule; however, I hope this coming week will be different.

Today I am too exhausted from our camping trip to get out there and go for a long run, so I will start over with routine tomorrow with the first day of the week. Every once in awhile, I have to feel like I'm getting s new start.

Friday, March 17, 2006

Happy Shamrock Day!

Well, it's the holiday of all drinking holidays. I think only Halloween out numbers St. Pat's for revelers, and because this year the holiday falls on a Friday, most will be out this evening drinking their share of green beer and embarking on leprechaun hunts (I think we'd all like to find that pot 'o gold).

Hope everyone has a very lucky day -- perhaps someone will come across a four leaf clover -- and hope you feel alright tomorrow (try to mix up the green beer with some Irish Whisky and Irish Cream; that way your internal organs adjust easily to all the greenness -- too much of that and your digestive system goes caput).

Good Luck!

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Dish Duty

Does anyone else sweat when they are washing dishes, or is it just me? I don't know if it's the extremely hot water I use or the vigorous scrubbing action, but I swear I get hot and sweaty doing the dishes (especially if I let them pile up for a day or two and I have a good half hour of washing to do; our dishwasher is broken and hasn't worked since we moved in 10 months ago -- husband seems to be in no rush to replace it). It could also be the sun shining down on me directly from over the sink, and it could be the cup of coffee I suck on while I wash; I'm not sure, but I do know that I usually turn on the ceiling fan in dish preparation so that I can maintain my core temperature.

It feels like some form of exercise.

In fact, much of the housework feels like a form of exercise: sweeping, vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom. By the time I'm finished cleaning the house, I am often just as worn out as I am after a run, which is precisely why I try to run before I clean. If I think to myself "I'll go run after I finish picking up and when I get done folding the laundry," inevitably I never go for that run because I'm pooped. Maybe I feel tired after cleaning because I do so many things the hard way, but I get that from my mother. She always cleaned the kitchen and bathroom floors on her hands and knees instead of with a mop because she reported that it burned more calories. I, personally, mop the kitchen, and Swiffer much of the rest of the house that has wood flooring, but I also clean the bathroom floors on my hands and knees.

Because it burns more calories? No. Two reasons: A. It is too small a space to mop. You can't really mop behind the toilet very effectively and I usually end up smacking myself in the head with the mop handle trying to maneuver in the tight space. And B. I like pretending to be Cinderella. It's something I've envisioned every time I do housework since I was five, and it's a fantasy that works for me. It would probably be much easier too if I had a few helpful mice to aid my work and sing me some uplifting songs instead of a dog who tracks through my efforts and doesn't sing one note, but one can only have so many trained mice in a lifetime and I'm saving mine for when I have kids (I think they might come in handy then; after that, I'm working on obtaining a few trained monkeys to run behind me in class and erase the board -- there just aren't enough trained animals in the world to do my bidding).

Anyway, I haven't run yet today, and I only plan on running a few miles this afternoon at the gym, but I do also plan to do some lifting (I have been slacking on that lately). However, after that powerful workout from the dishes, I'm thinking perhaps I could shave a mile off my run (I don't know how many calories I burned during the dishwashing session, but I would guess it was at least 20 -- not quite a mile's worth).

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

The Things You See

On my outdoor running routes, I see lots of stuff. Sure, I see different people and cars and buildings, grass, trees, etc, but I'm talking about the other stuff -- the stuff alongside the road or sidewalk or trail. Mostly I see garbage. One of my routes goes past a nearby high school, and a McDonald's is on the opposite corner of the high school, so I see empty cups, wrappers, and crumpled bags tossed next to the sidewalk there. I can picture the students stopping by McDonald's on their way to school and scarfing down that Egg McMuffin before they need to be seated in first period, or on the way home from school, when they crave a Shamrock shake they stop by again. And then, once they have had their fill, they simply toss the trash by the side of the road or out their car window.

But trash is everywhere by the side of the road, not just by the high school. There are wrappers, cans, beer bottles, cigarettes, and day old newspapers laying by the road -- apparently, there are a lot of litter bugs in the world. Garbage is the most common element I see, but it is by no menas the only thing I see. Every once in a while I spot just one shoe (always that loner shoe, where does it come from? is it dropped by heaven?), sometimes I see a kid's toy, a stray tennis or golf ball, and for several months, I continued to see what could only be debris from hurricane Wilma (pieces of screen, fence, roofing, etc). I have even passed textbooks and what appears to be notes and test scores; again, they must be the posessions of high school students.

I just observe all this discarded material and keep running; in some ways I feel as though I should pick it up, but I'm running, and I'm not carrying a garbage bag. Eventually it does get picked up (by gnomes I assume), but then someone drives by and tosses his or her mess out the car window. I never see them do it, but it's the only explanation (although, once I did see someone throw a McDonald's shake at another car -- I think that was thrown in anger though, but I didn't observe them retrieving the cup once it bounced off the other car). If only everyone ran and saw the crap by the road, maybe they'd think twice about holding onto it until they found a garbage can.

Monday, March 13, 2006

Time Flies

It's hard to find time to run during the week, but it always seems even harder on the weekend. Which might confirm what I have always suspected: The earth spins faster on Friday evening, all day Saturday, and all day Sunday; therefore, the days and nights are compressed, and we don't get the same amount of time as we do during the week. It's the only explanation as to why week days take so long and weekends go so fast. And it is also why I am sometimes gyped of my running time -- it's not my fault; it's the rotation of the Earth.

Yesterday in particular went by quickly. We went to the Renassiance Festival, and we saw jousting, ate some big pickles (which I think may be to blame for the strange poop I had this morning), drank some beer, observed many strange folks dressed up as elves, fairies, wenches, kings, queens, and a few animals with tails. I participated in axe throwing, a medevial skeeball, was fitted for horns, and fell for the dollar-tied-to-a-string bit (and I was so excited to see that dollar laying there too!); also, I baked in the sun. By mid-afternoon, I was nothing but a sweating, dirty mess and I could tell that my exposed skin was frying in the Florida heat. We were all pretty tired by mid-afternoon, so we left the games, beer, and fried food to the elves and made our way home.

I was so exhausted after a day in 1521 that I fell asleep while watching TV at 7:30 and slept through the night. Every once in a while, a girl needs to sleep approximately 12 hours to re-energize; it's particularly helpful to do this after a tiring day at the Renassiance. Today, I was rested and managed to get three miles in with no problem, and I was relieved to see the day's food and drink yesterday didn't add any pounds to my waistline; I must have sweated it all off.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Nothing to Say

You know those days when you think you have something to say, but then it turns out you don't? I guess today is one of those days. I automatically logged into Blogger and started a new post, but then just blanked out for about ten minutes. Literally, there was nothing to say. Then, I figured I could bribe everyone with some pictures of the dog (he has nothing to do with running, but he's cute, and studies show that people respond more strongly to cute animals than they do to scantily clad individuals -- hard to believe that could be true), but then, as I was browsing Scooter pics, I remembered that I hadn't downloaded new ones from the camera, and to do so right now seemed like too much effort. So, I'll have to retreat to cute dog pictures at another time.

Therefore, I'm left with really nothing to tell you. I ran yesterday afternoon -- a short distance (3 miles), and I read some running blogs (other people's achievement sometimes makes me feel like I did the same workout, and some people are very ambitious). Today I went to yoga, and tomorrow I have a long run ahead of me -- a little psyched out since I felt like death after Monday's long run, but still trying to remain positive.

Guess that's all I have to share. Maybe tomorrow I'll have better things to say. Talk to you then.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006


How come I can run as much as I do and still get winded walking up the four flights of stairs to my Tuesday night class? They're brutal! I'm usually fine for the first three flights, but by the time I'm inching toward the fourth floor, my legs feel weak and I'm gasping for air. Yesterday was particularly awful since I was late for class and was therefore trying to run up the stairs to my class; I was so winded when I stepped into my classroom that I had to take a minute to catch my breath.

My students mostly take the elevator and they always ask why I don't just hop on board and cruise up the four flights in luxury like they do, but I have my reasons for the stairs. For one thing, stairs are an incredibly good workout, even if that workout only lasts five minutes. Lots of articles on exercise and weight loss advise people to find extra bits of exercise wherever they can -- parking further out at the mall so the walking distance is greater, walking through an airport instead of gliding along on the automated walkways, and, of course, taking the stairs.

Climbing stairs is one of the best aerobic exercises you can do actually, and it burns more calories per minute than many other forms of exercise. How many calories you burn depends upon your weight, but some web sites estimate that an average person burns about 10 calories a minute walking up stairs -- takes me five minutes, I must burn around 50 calories (doesn't quite burn of the ice cream sandwich I ate for breakfast, but it's a move in the right direction). The chance to burn a few extra calories is a good one, and for a runner, the opportunity to fit in a touch more exercise is always beneficial, but exercise is not the only reason I take those stairs once a week.

You see, I have a certain fear of elevators. Maybe it's because I got my arm stuck in one in college, or maybe it's the feeling that the cables will snap and we'll plummett to our deaths, or perhaps (and this is probably the key factor), being stuffed into that box makes me feel claustrophobic -- that, and I always feel a touch motion sick in there. So even though four floors seems harmless, I would just rather stick with the stairs. That way if I trip and tumble to my death, I can rest assured that I burned a few extra calories and that might make all the difference when fitting me into a funeral dress.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

When to Pull Over

After getting a good dose of rest, I felt much revived this morning, and not too sore at all. Last night, my muscles and joints were just aching, especially my right knee (it's given me a little attitude in the past), but this morning I felt good as gold. I don't know what it was about that run yesterday; I'm not sure if it was the distance, the pace, the day itself, or what, but I was spent. Plus, once you start increasing mileage it can be surprising how long you're out there. I'm not too speedy, so those 61/2 miles yesterday took me about 70 minutes, and when I think about it, that's a long time to run.

Which makes me think about the truly long distances: the half marathon and the full marathon, when you run for hours. And after thinking about that length of time, it raises several questions for me. For one thing, would you need to use the bathroom? Because I usually pee before I go for a run, and while I run, I don't usually feel any urgent pee issues, but after four hours would I? And if I stopped to use a port-a-potty would I ever be able to start up again? And peeing is one thing, but what about pooing? It has happened once or twice when I have stepped out the door, ran about a mile, and had to run top speed back to the house -- I can't hold poo; when I have to go, I have to go. So, on a marathon, are restrooms available frequently? Would you ever have to walk off the road or trail and squat with some leaves? What if you filled your shorts? How uncomfortable would that walk be?

These are, I feel, pertinent questions, and they are the sort of questions many running discussions never touch on. When RW reports on races, they never interview anyone who says, "Yeah, the race was great, but I had to piss myself part way through. I didn't want to mess up my time." (Actually, something tells me there are runners out there who would think like this. Can you imagine the chafing?) Anyway, I suppose that as I work to increase my miles each week, these will be issues I'll just have to accept and figure out once I get there. For now, my greatest concern is doing the distances I have set forth, and as of yet, I haven't had any major emergencies.

Monday, March 06, 2006

Worn Out

I ran 61/2 miles this evening and I swear it aged me ten years. No kidding, I feel totally wiped out. I came home, showered, ate dinner, and have spent the past hour and a half laying in bed staring blankly at the TV. Thank god I plan on yoga tomorrow. I hope I don't feel like a pile of poo.

Sunday, March 05, 2006


Today I chose a nap over running. I got to sleep in this morning, but I was still worn out and late this afternoon I laid down for a quick nap before I planned to run, and that quick nap turned into two solid hours of shut eye. When I woke up, it was dark out and I just didn't feel like going. Every once and awhile I need a day of naps and late sleeping. Now I think I will have an ice cream sandwich and watch the Oscars -- well, as much as I can stand. I really just like to see the pretty clothes.

Saturday, March 04, 2006

No More Red

I saw an ad on TV yesterday that promoted a kind of "procedure" that eliminated red face. That's right -- the tomato face has a cure. I don't remember what the procedure (they did not say "surgery" nor was "medication" mentioned; it was very mysterious) was called, but the ad had a guy who was talking about how embarassing and horrible it was to return from a workout and have a beet colored complexion (I feel your pain buddy), but now he is so happy because he doesn't get a red face anymore!

I hate my red face too, but a procedure to eliminate it? What would that entail? Scraping off the first layer of face? Removing sweat glands? Performing a head transplant (because if we're gonna do that, I request Jennifer Aniston's head)? The whole thing just seems bizarre to me, but at the same time, I have to admit that my curiosity is piqued.

My face always looks like a stop light when I finish running, and it often takes awhile to cool off and resume its normal coloring. Should I visit this doctor's office nearby and have a look at the face scrap information? Tempting, but I don't think so. There's other important medical things I have to take care of first: Like getting a new pair of glasses and going to the dentist. The red face prodecure will have to take a back seat.

Friday, March 03, 2006

Locked Out

Well, it's only 9:15 am, but it's shaping up to be one helluva morning. I got up at 7 this morning to let the dog out and to get ready for my run. Left at about 7:15 to run. My husband leaves at about 7:40 for work and I told him I wouldn't be back before he left, kissed him goodbye and was off. The run went fine -- I'm not positive of my distance but it was somewhere between 5 and 6 miles (I'll have to take the car out later and retrace the route and measure the distance). But in the last half mile I had a premonition: I just knew my husband had locked me out of the house.

I don't have magical powers or ESP or anything: I just know my husband. Locking the door behind him is instinctual and I bet he checked it three times to make sure it was locked (he's a bit OCD). So I got home, tried the door, and sure enough, found myself shut out. At first I thought maybe a window was a possibility, but we have bushes that are right up against the building so unless I was going to brave the bushes, I wasn't getting in that way. Plus, even if I got past the bushes, and got a screen off, the windows would probably all be locked because my husband always checks them before we go to bed at night to ensure that they are latched. I knew the back door wasn't even worth trying -- my husband always ensures that door is double locked and that the patio door is latched (his concern for safety has made it impossible for me to break into our house).

At this point, the dog can hear me trying to get into the house and he is frantic to see me (he has a bit of separation anxiety) and he's barking up a storm: Yipping and yelping to beat the band.

So, finally I resigned myself to ringing the neighbor's doorbell. I just hadn't wanted to because it was still early and I know she has a young son and I could just tell by the stillness of their place that they were sleeping, and when I rang the bell, she appeared in her pajamas. But our neighbor is so nice and she didn't seem to mind being awakened to a sweaty neighbor and the sound of a maniac dog next door. She very graciously let me use her phone and I got ahold of my husband and he was able to leave work and come let me in. The dog, by this time, had worked himself into a tizzy.

I never take keys with me when I run because I don't like keeping track of them (ie, holding onto them or having them jiggle around in a pocket), but most of my shorts do have a small, inside pocket, so perhaps I should start making a mental note to slip the house key in there before I leave. That, or we need an extra key hidden outside somewhere -- maybe one of those fake rocks would help conceal its presence. Of course, my luck would dictate that the dog would see said rock, eat it (he has an affinity for swallowing rocks and chewing on sticks), and I'd still be locked out.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Chip Cuisine

Is it wrong to have chips as a side dish to Lean Cuisine?

You see, I was trying a new "cuisine" that was Southwest something or other, but it was rice and beans and some yummy sauce. It was very good, but after the first few bites, I decided it was missing something. What do I like to have with all my Mexican food? That's right, chips. So I got out the bag of Tostitos and happily dipped and enjoyed my rice and beans and chips. It wasn't until I was halfway through with the meal when the irony hit me: I was trying to stick to a low-cal meal and I was sabotaging it with chips!

I really can't do dieting properly. I'm just not cut out for it. I must have not felt too bad about it because I polished off my meal and a few more chips before returning the bag to the cupboard, and you know what? I think those chips really added something to the dish. Without them, it wouldn't have been quite so delicious.