Numbers Game

So, Chandler and Joey are peer pressuring Ross into drinking breast milk from a bottle . . . he's avoided the taste throughout the entire half-hour show.  It's the final minute of the episode: and he's DONE it!  Neatly washing it down with a couple of Oreo cookies.  "Friends."  Ashley's all-time favorite sitcom.  The girl owns every episode in an extensive CD collection she's gathered over the past few years.  There are a great many laughs to had with the stupendous six.  (They stray a bit too far near the edge at times for my tastes, but funny is still funny.)

Well, it's official.  Cramming one's face full of combination pizza and cherry pie, licorice and Skittles, In-and-Out burgers and nachos, donuts and cheesecake -- all during my five-hour visits with Gary, not to mention adding TWO lattes a day to one's dietary intake, Grandma Opal's chock-full-of-goodness carrot bread, and sucking down  plentiful glasses of red wine more than once or twice over eighteen days, oh, and hitting up Foster's Freeze AND that fast-food Chinese joint in one evening, will yield a net result of a six-pound weight gain.  To my credit, I did intersperse the binging with flax seed in plain yogurt and mucho veggies and fruit.  On the positive side, daily walks and keeping up with push-ups most likely kept off another six!  Doubtless, copious calories were burned by my regular blogging, texting, and Facebooking.  Thanks to all of you for those saved ounces.

While I missed my Valdez Bunch, including the animals and the home front, let it be said that never EVER did I state that I regretted leaving the humidity behind.  At 10AM, with the mercury hovering around 83 degrees Fahrenheit, I was sure I could easily handle the late morning walk after my vigorous striding around Merced and Modesto in 95+ degree weather.  Fat wet chance!  My dog barely cleared her daily mile, tongue lolling, panting unceasingly.  My shorts climbed, lodged, and stuck to me in ways most unpleasant.  What's left of my rapidly departing damaged hair was arranged in an alarming golden disarray beneath my sweaty cap.  And that was only my FIRST mile!  I'll spare you the damage done in the next two miles.  UGH. 

We had ourselves a real entertaining evening here on Marilyn Court.  A push-up contest for best form: 25 executed with chest hitting the ground and coming up into fully extended, but not locked, arms, maintaining a straight line with the body.  Zachary and I performed first.  Perfect!  Not too fast, not too slow.  Then, it was Jimmy V's turn.  We contend that he zips through his series too quickly for them to be of maximum benefit.  I laid in front of him, hand flat beneath his chest, policing the depth of his dip, encouraging him at each count with a friendly, "C'mon, Chippy!  You can do it!"  (This refers to his very cute front teeth which I find rather appealing when he grins.)  By number 19, he had collapsed in a fit of laughter.  Good times!

In keeping with my efforts to drop those pesky six pounds, I surrendered to my PMS-induced cravings for reduced-fat Original Pringles (I shared the tube with Ashley and Zachary, thereby reducing my overall intake) and 4 1/2 carefully culled selections from my hand-picked 48-count box of Ethel's Chocolates -- my splurge during my stopover at the Las Vegas Airport on Friday last.  Let's see.  Creme Brulee.  Raspberry ganache.  Tiramisu.  A rich caramel.  Cheesecake.  Peanut Butter and Jelly.  Half of a partially eaten dark chocolate truffle . . . and the final corner of a plain Peanut Butter and the wee sampling of Zachary's rum cocktail specialty chocolate.  Um-m, I'm evidently better at denial and weaker in math as the years run by; that should be 6 and 3/4 picked from my delectable stash.  Yikes!  Hey!  I'm downing a huge glass of water right before I hit the sack, okay?!

Wait.  Stop.  I peeked in on the two-layers of goodness nestled between individual plastic compartments and separated by candy-box lining.  I discovered 1/3 of the caramel and 2/3 of the cheesecake yet untouched in their spots.  Last I checked, six subtract one equals five.  Phew.  Not quite as bad as it sounded.  And I did hit 151 push-ups today with that extra contest set.  Not to mention 120 reps on the ol' thighmaster.  (Yes, Suzanne Somers is right: you can squeeze your way to firmer inner thighs in just minutes a day!) 

So there!