Starfish Envy

The Great Big Little Apple Pie Debacle

I find, as this wedding approaches, my eating habits are sliding.  

The no-sugar apple pie that I would usually ignore at Whole Foods, somehow found its way into my basket on Monday... and into my tummy about three point four seconds after I walked through my front door balancing bags of gluten-free crackers and "homemade" chicken noodle soup.  

I ate the whole pie.  

It was a little pie.  

But still.  Not intended for one sitting while watching House.

How envious I am of people who only want a little, who are satisfied with just a few bites.  Those people are fortunate indeed.  I could smack them.

Reeling, as I am, with guilt over my gluttony (okay, one little pie isn't really gluttony, but I like the alliteration), I seriously appreciated this video, which I found on Feministing:

And when you're done with that sandwich, Babs, eat a little pie, 'kay?

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What goodies "accidentally" make their way into your shopping cart?

I've Lost That Sinking Feeling... Now It's Gone, Gone, Gone

Sometimes, you know when you've made a horrible mistake.  You feel the weight of it in your chest, fight it as you toss and turn yourself to sleep, and eventually settle into the acceptance that damn, you really screwed that one up.  

We've all heard stories of people who realized on their honeymoon that they wanted a divorce.  (I know two of those folks myself.) 

I was little worried I might feel that way about my decision to keep my house.

But it's been three days now... 

And I'm happier than I've been in months.  Even with the awareness that remodeling is a total nightmare, I CAN'T WAIT.  I love my house.  I love my neighborhood.  And I'm so excited that I'm going to have the opportunity to make my house what I want it to be.

Here's one reason why: I've started working out with my trainer at the park near my house. And by near, I mean I could walk.  Easily.  (Although I drive. Because I'm ABOUT TO WORK OUT, and I know I'll be ready to collapse in my car by the end, and yes, I'm rationalizing, BACK OFF.  Oh, wait, that's me being judgmental of me, not you.  Sorry.)

Anyway.  Now, when I work out, I'm bird-watching, and people-watching, and being people-watched myself, which definitely makes me lift my knees up higher, because what you don't want, when working out in the park, is to look like a slacker.  And then, after the work out, I stop in at my favorite diner for oatmeal and read The New York Times on my Kindle, and then it's back home to get ready for work, and it's all so nice, and convenient, and exactly what I need.

This is my trainer Rita, stretching me out.  Those are my feet.  

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What's the BEST decision you've made lately?

Things To Do Before I Die (A Long, Long Time From Now)

Several years ago, I made a list of 111 Things To Do Before I Die. 

Then I shoved it into a box and promptly forgot about it.  But y'know how, sometimes, you find things you haven't seen in years, and you're like, OH MY GOD, WHERE HAS THIS BEEN!?!!  

Well, my list has been in a white, metal box in my kitchen, and yesterday I unearthed it, only to discover that HOT DAMN! I've ACCOMPLISHED some stuff!

Here's what I've done:

6. Create a television show and run it.

7. Run a television show. (Apparently, I really wanted to cover my bases on that one.)

14. Own a house.

17. Exercise four times per week for one year.

18. Eat no fast food for one year.

22. Sing in a performance for friends.  (I've done a couple weddings.  I figure that counts.)

30. Quit smoking. (Did that one a few times.  Last one finally stuck.)

31. Write a song and sing it for people.  (I wrote one song.  I sang it for my mom.  Which was harder than singing for "people.")

36. Stay at the Bellagio. (I put 35 other things before this one.  My values are in excellent order, thank you.)

43. Make and donate knitted blankets. 

49. Write Jim Shepard a thank you note.  (My college writing professor.  Great writer. Great teacher.  And I sent him an email, which is not exactly a note, but I'm giving myself this one.)

55. Go to therapy.  (Did this one A LOT.)

57. Read War & Peace.

63. Buy a DVD player.  (Seriously.  It's on the list.)

64. Get a desktop computer. 

65. Get a cell phone.  (When did I make this list?  1983?)

66. Get a nice filofax.  (Okay, this is starting to be humiliating.)

67. Buy my mom a Foremost Dairies collectible.  (Her dad worked there.  It's a thing.)

68. Go to Sky Bar. (Emmy party.  Saw Colin Firth.  Sigh.  Where is my Mark Darcy?)

73. Hire a business manager.  

74. Pay off my credit cards.

75. Get a credit card.  (I'm confused by this one.  If I wanted to pay off my credit cards, why did I need a credit card???)

80. Have a music room in my house. (When I moved into my house, I made this little nook into a music room.  Didn't last long, but I think it's enough.)

82. Read a book in Swedish. 

86. Have a personal assistant.  (For context, I was a personal assistant when I wrote this list.)

91. Plant and take care of some flowers.

92. Buy a sewing machine.  (If only I'd added "Learn to use sewing machine.")

101. Get rid of A LOT of my stuff.  (Not that I couldn't get rid of more...)

104. Ask a man out on a date.

108. Volunteer for a politician I believe in. 

109. Write a novel.

110. Get novel published.  

Pretty good, right?  Then there are some things that just don't make sense anymore, like "Hire K as an actress on a t.v. show."  

My friend K was a struggling actress when I made this list (which also includes "Treat B and N to a great vacation," only now B is married to the aforementioned K, and N is married to S, so I'm gonna say this one's out of the question...), and now K's a successful television writer.    

Still to do?

Well, there's number 12 (get married) and number 13 (have at least one child), which it looks like I will be doing out of order, at best.  And there's 28 (fall in love).  And 45 (learn to dye yarn).  And 58 (read Anna Karenina-- it's on my Kindle).  There are lots of places to travel, and lots of good works to accomplish, from small (83: Serve Thanksgiving dinner to the homeless.) to large (38: Give $10,000 to Teach for America. It's in my will.  They may have to wait 'til I die...)

And today it looks like I'll be adding another item to the list:

112: Remodel house.  

Because I think I'm staying put.  Every piece of advice in every comment was terrific, but I loved the coin flipping notion.  Only, when I read it, I realized that I didn't need to flip a coin.  Because from the moment I realized I wanted to remodel and stay... I've pretty much just been excited.

Which is a feeling I'm going to work hard to hang onto... because everyone knows that remodeling is hell.

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What's on your list?  What have you crossed off that you're most proud of?

Changing Up The Exercise Routine

Today, I sort of graduated.  For the last seventeen months, I've been spending every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning at the small-ish gym in my trainer's apartment building.  It was exactly what I needed-- well equipped, but not overwhelming.  And very private.  Then, a couple months ago, my trainer got married.  Now she and her husband are moving to a house.  With, obviously, no gym.  

So starting next week... we're switching it up.  Instead of the gym, we'll be working out at the park near my house.  So... y'know.  Less private.  Pretty public, in fact.  Pretty I'm-going-be-sweating-my-ass-off-in-front-of-lots-of-people.  

And I'm cool with that.  I'm even looking forward to it.

Not only is this change-up an opportunity for my to get over my self-consciousness about exercising in front of other people... it's an opportunity to share a picture I took a couple years ago of my new "gym:"

 Not bad, right?  Sometimes change is a good thing.   

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What's the best change you've made lately?

Sugar Free Me

I can’t start today’s post until I’ve written about the comments from yesterday.  They were… how to say?  Amazing.  Insightful.  Smart.  Challenging.  Abundant (twenty at last count).  Comforting.  Kind.  Encouraging.  Diverse.  And EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED TO HEAR.  I deeply appreciate the conversation we’re having here, and I’m learning a ton from all of you.  So, thank you.

And now, on with the post.

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For a little over a year, I’ve been trying to “eat right.”  Since The Experts can’t manage to come to any consensus on exactly what it means to “eat right,” here’s what it means to me:

Cutting out fast food entirely.  Having all of my food delivered in healthy, pre-cooked, diet-sized servings (that lasted about five months—five glorious months).  Going to the Farmer’s Market.  Starting a food diary.  Eating more fish.  Choosing fruit and nuts as snacks.  Drinking lots of water.  Avoiding even diet soda (most of the time).  Eating four or five times a day.  And ordering the good-for-you items on the menu instead of the stuff I like. 

Lately, it’s also meant cutting out sugar.  Which is no cake-walk, my friends.  Because the only thing I like more than a red velvet cupcake with butter cream frosting is a REALLY BIG red velvet cupcake with butter cream frosting.

As of last Sunday, I have had no processed sugar for TWO WHOLE MONTHS.  Excuse me while I throw a little sugar-free party for myself.    

(Party, party, dance, dance.  Party over.)

If I’m going to be a mom—which hopefully I am, sooner rather than later—I want to be healthy, and I want to be able to raise healthy kids. 

All of this would be much easier if I were willing to give up sweets entirely.  But I am SO not.  I NEED SWEETNESS, but I don’t want to replace sugar with fake sugar, which all-the-folks-who-know say is even worse.

Oh, the dilemmas of health!

Fortunately, I’m lucky to have very healthy, vegan neighbors who introduced me to agave.  So this weekend I hauled out my biodegradable bottle of agave and adapted a cheese blintz recipe from the Barefoot Contessa.  

Agave is sweeter than sugar, so I used slightly less than the recipe called for.  I also used low fat ricotta cheese for the filling (mixed with full-on all-fat mascarpone, of course).

The sauce is made from orange juice, agave (instead of sugar), a little corn starch, and blueberries.  Couldn't be simpler.  Or more delicious.

Put it all together, and... yum.  

The trick is managing not to eat it all in one sitting... especially when you're being all glum and self-pitying about being single.

But... I didn't.   Because this is the new, healthy me.  The me that, for the most part, eats right.  Even when what I really want is to eat very, very wrong.

Placenta Pill, Anyone?

Ladies and gentlemehhh... yeah, okay, so there aren't many gentlemen here.  But, just in case, ladies and gentlemen, for your viewing pleasure, a video of my (super pregnant) writing partner, who has a very important question:

This set off quite a debate in the Lie to Me writers' room today.  The upshot?  As a group, we're dubious.  And kinda grossed out.  

That said, I have a good friend who got the placenta pills and she did not get post-partum depression.  And my acupuncturist, who worked a miracle just last week by stopping my cold in its tracks, recommends them.  Thoughts?

I Have Doubt

No, I'm not talking about the play.  Or the movie of the play.  Although every time I think the words "I have doubt," I do think them in Meryl Streep's voice.  Which is creepy.

I mean I have doubt about the whole breeding thing.

It's been creeping in slowly.  Maybe all this nonsense with my dogs is making me tired.  I don't know.  But I'm worried.  About everything from ovulating to eating to exercise to my house to my dogs to taking my anti-blood stagnation herbs.

I think it's just a build-up of stress and a lull in momentum.  I made the decision to try to get pregnant, which was very exciting, and then... PAUSE!  Three months of nothing but preparing.  Getting my house ready to put on the market.  Eating right.  Getting acupuncture.  Losing ten pounds.  Buying sperm, which for some reason I just can't make myself do.  All while not eating sugar, which I have to tell you, is HARD.  I love sugar.  I miss sugar.  I want SOME DAMN SUGAR.

Funny aside:  Aaron Barnhart, the television critic for the Kansas City Star, interviewed WP and me a couple weeks ago, and then mentioned in the Star, and online, that I have this blog and that I'm doing this whole baby-on-my-own thing.  After which my mom received a very hesitant phone call from one of her friends.  "Did you know," the friend said carefully, "that Sarah is... going to do... artificial insemination?"  "Yes," my mom answered nicely, "I think she mentioned it."  

I don't know why I find that so funny.  But I do.  And kinda sweet.

Back to my doubts.  They're not just about the prep work.  Every now and then I get hit with a wave of terror about what kind of mother I'm going to be.  It's all well and good to think I'm going to be a great mom, and that I'm going to commit all this time to my child, and cook healthy food, and play with him or her, and teach him/her all kinds of great things.  But... easier said than done, folks.  And I know that my expectations are probably unrealistic, but I really feel like I have to do more, be better, if I'm doing it alone.  Because there's no fall back.  There's me.  And that's it.

I've also been trying to imagine what it would be like to be a kid with a mom and a... donor.  It's actually quite hard to do.  What would it have been like to grow up with just my mom?  No dad.  No step-dad.  No relatives on that side of the family at all.  There are a couple people I wouldn't mind being rid of, but for the most part, it feels... lonely.  Is a few essays and some medical records, and maybe a baby picture enough to fill that hole?  If that's what you're used to, does it even feel like a hole?  I'm just not sure.

(And yes, I know that it's possible that I could meet someone and get married and blah blah blah, but I'm not holding my breath.  If you want to, feel free.)

And it's not like I haven't read all the books.  I know that I have to work through my feelings so I don't inadvertently pass on my fears and issues to my future child.  If I can even get pregnant.  That's a whole other area of worry.  It's entirely possible I won't be able to.  I am thirty-eight, after all.  Downright ancient.  How many times am I going to try?  If unmedicated IUI doesn't work, would I do medicated?  Would I do IVF?  I dunno. Not a clue in the world.

It doesn't help that I went to my acupuncturist this morning, who is wonderful, but who thinks I should set aside two hours three times a week to cook bison stew.  And other healthy, blood enriching, foods.  Which is an absolute impossibility at the moment.  I mean, literally an impossibility.  Unless they add hours to the day.  (Hmmm.  I do know people who know Jon Favreau-- the speechwriter, not the actor-- and he knows the President.  Can someone talk to Jon Favreau about talking to the President about adding some hours to the day so I can cook?  Seriously.  This is very important.  Possibly more important than health care reform.)

If I can't cook now, how am I going to do it once I have a child?  At which point I am reminded of a piece of brilliant advice from my friend Mel: GET ROTISSERIE CHICKEN. But then I remember that my acupuncturist said it's hard to find rotisserie chickens that are free-range and I should really cook them myself and THEN MY HEAD EXPLODES.

At which point my exploded head and I give up and go to bed.

Miracle on No-Sugar Street

The craziest thing happened to me today.  

I FORGOT TO EAT LUNCH.

I am not one of those people who plops down at dinner and casually announces, "I haven't had a thing to eat today!"  If anything, I'm the person who makes that particular announcement at breakfast, with the tragic intonation of Romeo mourning Juliet.

Food is very important to me.  I like food. I spend most of my time either eating food or thinking about when I will next eat food.

But not today.  Today, I had oatmeal and walnuts and milk for breakfast, and then I went to work and FORGOT TO HAVE LUNCH.  Around three-thirty this afternoon, I got a little hungry in the tummy and had a glass of milk and some almonds. And STILL DIDN"T REALIZE I'D FORGOTTEN TO HAVE LUNCH.  It wasn't until the end of the day when my assistant, AC, was getting me organized to leave, that I realized my lunch (which, by the way, was my very favorite salad from Urth Cafe, accompanied by my very favorite soup) was still sitting in the fridge.

I can only attribute this bizarre anomaly to the fact that I'm not eating sugar.   Those of you out there who have also taken a sugar hiatus, did this happen to you?  Did you get less hungry?  More importantly, did it last???

Me On A Hot Tin Roof

So I decided to quit eating sugar without really thinking about all the things that actually contain sugar.  Like bread.  And peanut butter.  And salad dressing.  And almost everything else in the ENTIRE WORLD.  So now I’m retroactively going back and reading books about what, exactly, I’m getting myself into.  It’s annoying.  But good for me.  Really, really good for me.  And good for me is good!  I’m embracing good for me! 

Y’know what else is good for me?  Exercise.  And because I worked late every night last week (including canceling my birthday dinner—sigh) I had to cancel all my trainer sessions.  Now tomorrow I’m going back and Rita is going to KICK MY A.S.S.  And I’m going to be like, hey, aren’t you about to get married?  Why don’t you just go off to Costa Rica and dress up in a fancy white dress and be all happy and get all married and just let me suffer here in my soulless, sugarless, miserable existence. 

This no sugar thing is going to get better, right?

Have I mentioned I don’t have air conditioning?  Because no air conditioning on top of no sugar is MAKING ME CRAZY.  And usually the no air conditioning is fine, but with the smoke from the wildfires and the heat and the no wind… my brain is baked.  

Which reminds me...

I want a cookie.

Baby Steps

Okay, so the whole thirty-eight's going to be the BEST YEAR EVER thing apparently doesn't start until tomorrow.  Because today, instead of having dinner with my friends, I stayed late at work integrating a bunch of notes into a script.  

Happy birthday to me!  Happy birthday to me!  Happy birthday, dear workaholic!  Happy birthday to meeeeee!

Let's put a more positive spin on it:  My writing partner (WP) is a friend (from high school, no less), and after 2+ years my assistant AC is a friend, and we all had dinner together (take out burgers from the diner down the street), so I suppose it could be argued that I DID have dinner with friends.  Just without alcohol.  And with a lot more work talk. 

Plus I got to look at these beautiful orchids (a gift from AC).

And on the way home I picked up this crazy decadent red velvet cupcake (it looks even better when it's not blurry).  I'm happy to say I could only eat half of it.  I used to be MUCH better at eating rich foods.  These days the one-more-bite just isn't worth how crappy I feel after.  

And that, my friends, is that for me and sugar.  We're done.  We are no longer best buds.  I'm cutting it loose. Sugar is on its own.  Sugar can fend for itself.  Good luck, sugar.  If I see you on the side of the road, I'm driving right by.  Cuz I'm over you.  I'm QUITTING YOU, SUGAR, DO YOU HEAR ME?

Y'know, for a month.

If I can do a month without CLAWING MY EYES OUT, I'll go for a year.  

Giving up sugar's going to be a lot harder for me than giving up fast food has been.  But I think it's important.  I really want to raise kids who understand healthy eating.  And I think that means I have to understand it first.  

One step at a time.