With my husband gone to Kentucky, visiting the McArthur Clan, I've been finding new and exciting ways in which to occupy my time. I refer to it as "Real Houseives of Aurora" (RHOA for short).
Deeply rooted into Day 4 of my Christmas Day oath to start the mighty diet, blog more, exercise until my limbs fall off and in general be a better person, I attest to "so far, so good". Greek yogurt is my friend. Water bottles are placed in strategic zones throughout the house to ensure that I get 64 oz. delivered to placate the hunger pangs. Dog leashes are now in both cars to allow the spur of a moment dog walk! The 6lb min-pin isn't sure what the heck is happening.
In between the various pledges I rendered unto myself, I re-enlisted in Twitter. Social media is, at least for me, a path towards finding people who share my same point of view on various topics; mostly conservatism and irritation towards the current administration, dismal societal groups, i.e. Ferguson rioters, anti-police/law/military protesters, and the pinheads who wear t-shirts proclaiming, "I Can't Breath [sic]." The latter being one of my favorites.
My husband can attest to my recent frustration with the news. An ardent FOX News viewer, I find myself yelling at the television. I look forward to Bill O'Reilly's "Word of the Day" as the way to quell my anger with the earlier segments. Just how many nitwits live in this great country? Apparently quite a few. That statistic is at least satisfying with the fact that FOX News is the number one cable news network.
Most nights you can find me bantering with pundits with opposing points of view, albeit couch side. I realize the television can not register my opinions, but I enjoy sharing them regardless. Facebook is fun, but Twitter is a somewhat instantaneous. I suspect my husband would relish time a bit more if I were not having one sided arguments with the news. So, social media has become somewhat of a companion of sorts.
In the end, social media is the new path to communicating with one's fellow man, the sharing of opinions, views and dialogue. Sadly, it also has created a world wherein face to face exchanges are far and few between. There's the juxtaposition.
About Me
- anniemac
- My husband tells me I am a makebate. So, what's wrong with that? I love to write. I have 2 great kids and 1 grandson. I'd love to say I am "retired" but really, who retires from life? Shoot me a question, comment, rant or rave. They are all welcome here. Love dogs, my family, and most of all, debate. Pro NRA, conservative and a right wing lady.
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Friday, December 26, 2014
Big butts, jello and jiggles
With 2015 almost upon us, I decided to jump start my body overhaul early. What better time to tackle the curse of menopause, sagging breasts, big butt syndrome and all that nonsense then Christmas. Tis the season of all things chocolate, sugar, savory and cheese. All big RED flags on my plate.
The holiday started off ok. By 1300 I was famished and convinced that I had not eaten in days, when it had only be a mere 4 hours. By the end of the day, I was convinced beyond the shadow of a giant sugar cookie that I would die in my sleep of starvation.
One great standard is that the United States counts weight in pounds rather than stones. After a great Christmas eve conversation with my cousin Louise (in Australia), I realized that it sounds far more esoteric to measure out weight in stones than pounds. But, after doing the conversion, those stones became giant boulders, and the fairytale became more of a horror flick!
I made it through the first day! Now begins day two. That carb shake and banana do not taste as good as a slab of bacon alongside. Of course, I've heard people say, "Bacon goes with everything"! Luckily, the pre-diet grocery store festival did not include bacon. I loaded up on fruits, lean cuisine meals, carb shakes, green veggies...all the yummies that say, "healthy eater".
Ironically, this week's edition of People magazine arrived in my mailbox featuring ordinary Joes and Josephines who had lost half their body weight by eating sensibly, exercising and staying determined. I read their take on meals, snacks, etc that gave me the extra boost I will need. My little min-pin Lady Byrd will provide the walking I need until I can get my failing back remedied and move on to the bike.
What is it about age and expanding waistlines? Where do spare tires come from? How did the lunch lady find me and sling a ladle full of arm flab upon my bones? The gray hair was fine. I accepted that with gusto. I believed it added character and a sense of refinement. The crows' feet that landed on my face - again, I wasn't too concerned. "Maybe it can be the lines of wisdom" - that's the big FAT façade I told myself. But, to suffer the indignity of my ass being bigger than my head; well, that's just too much.
Of course, I really have no one to blame but (there's **that** word again) myself. Trips to Macaroni Grill, or a Snicker's Bar are on me. I accept that. Giving up alcohol was easy compared to leaving espresso cake at the store! And who am I kidding when ordering a green tea frap from Starbucks?
So, Christmas...you've come and gone taking all your naughtiness with you. I've got a jump on the all too common New Year's resolution to lose the extra baby weight from my youngest baby of 29 years. 2015 will be my year. I can do it.
The holiday started off ok. By 1300 I was famished and convinced that I had not eaten in days, when it had only be a mere 4 hours. By the end of the day, I was convinced beyond the shadow of a giant sugar cookie that I would die in my sleep of starvation.
One great standard is that the United States counts weight in pounds rather than stones. After a great Christmas eve conversation with my cousin Louise (in Australia), I realized that it sounds far more esoteric to measure out weight in stones than pounds. But, after doing the conversion, those stones became giant boulders, and the fairytale became more of a horror flick!
I made it through the first day! Now begins day two. That carb shake and banana do not taste as good as a slab of bacon alongside. Of course, I've heard people say, "Bacon goes with everything"! Luckily, the pre-diet grocery store festival did not include bacon. I loaded up on fruits, lean cuisine meals, carb shakes, green veggies...all the yummies that say, "healthy eater".
Ironically, this week's edition of People magazine arrived in my mailbox featuring ordinary Joes and Josephines who had lost half their body weight by eating sensibly, exercising and staying determined. I read their take on meals, snacks, etc that gave me the extra boost I will need. My little min-pin Lady Byrd will provide the walking I need until I can get my failing back remedied and move on to the bike.
What is it about age and expanding waistlines? Where do spare tires come from? How did the lunch lady find me and sling a ladle full of arm flab upon my bones? The gray hair was fine. I accepted that with gusto. I believed it added character and a sense of refinement. The crows' feet that landed on my face - again, I wasn't too concerned. "Maybe it can be the lines of wisdom" - that's the big FAT façade I told myself. But, to suffer the indignity of my ass being bigger than my head; well, that's just too much.
Of course, I really have no one to blame but (there's **that** word again) myself. Trips to Macaroni Grill, or a Snicker's Bar are on me. I accept that. Giving up alcohol was easy compared to leaving espresso cake at the store! And who am I kidding when ordering a green tea frap from Starbucks?
So, Christmas...you've come and gone taking all your naughtiness with you. I've got a jump on the all too common New Year's resolution to lose the extra baby weight from my youngest baby of 29 years. 2015 will be my year. I can do it.
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