One of my son’s many quirks is that he takes everything literally. Literally.
To him, “The rain is falling in sheets” means exactly that; water-filled bedsheets, falling from the sky. Butterflies in stomachs, bulls in china shops, and saying that someone is in the same boat, have all lead to lengthy discussions about figurative speech.
So, does anyone want to guess what happened when he was reading “Socks” by Beverly Cleary and I told him to put his socks down the laundry chute?
No, not that kind of coming out! If there is anything to be gleaned from watching Josh Duhamel movies, it is that I am completely heterosexual. Okay, that’s probably the only thing to be gleaned from watching Josh Duhamel movies. I digress.
Almost a year ago, I had some routine blood-work done that showed my “bad” cholesterol was in the 260’s. For all of you 20-something readers, that’s high. Also, it’s been nice having you read my blog.
Truth be told, I was eating horribly; lots of fried, high-fat food and hardly any fruits or vegetables. I thought I could bring the numbers down by changing my diet. When my doctor asked, “What are we going to do about this cholesterol?”
I said, “I’m going to lose some weight!”
I don’t know if you know this, but you can’t just say, “I’m going to lose some weight” and have the weight come off. I’m sorry to break that to you. As a matter of fact, if you take a full-time job that has you sitting at your desk for long hours and working a lot of overtime, you will actually gain weight. Yep. It’s true.
Starting last September I really did try to change my diet, and in January I started working out about six times per week. I was making real changes, because the cancer in my family lit a fire under my patootie. I’m 40 now. I use words like “cholesterol” in blog posts. It was time.
When I went back to my doctor for a blood test in early February, I was sure these changes would be reflected in my numbers. Were they ever! My cholesterol went UP to nearly 290. It was awesome to hear that; almost as awesome as jumping off a two-story building and landing on your kneecaps.
My doctor said, “You’re building plaque as we sit here” and gave me two options; either take a statin drug every day, for the rest of my life, or drastically (and without moderation) alter my diet. When I asked him what that meant he said, “You’d have to go vegan.”
As in, no more butter. Ever.
It took me exactly two seconds to agree to try it. I have long said that I could easily be a vegetarian and when I pictured what was happening inside my body, the change was easy. Have I craved a nice, cheesy pizza? Yes. Is the cheesy pizza worth heart disease? No. I also know it isn’t good to drink alcohol while taking statins and if you ask me whether I’d rather give up animal products or beer, well…it’s not really a question at all.
I’m 11 weeks in to this lifestyle change and if my numbers are low enough after my next blood test, I can go off the prescription. Also, if that happens you’ll see me walking around with my arms in the air, like Rocky, for about a week. I’ll be the one yelling, “I WIN!”
Of course, not everyone has to take such drastic measures; I’m just lucky like that. I made my family cheeseburgers last night. Tonight, they’re having pork roast; tomorrow, barbecued chicken. You get the idea.
I, however, eat a lot of this:
So there, I’ve come out with it. Unless I’m miraculously approved to once again become a carnivore, you can refer to me as a vegan. Or, Rocky. Either one.
So it has come to this.
That is my microwave with a rock glued to it.
Last week the door wouldn’t open and we were all, “What are we going to do with all of these bags of popcorn if we can’t open the microwave door?” We started using a screwdriver to pry the door open, but a screwdriver on your kitchen counter is not all that aesthetically appealing; unless, of course, it’s made of vodka and orange juice.
I thought maybe it was time to start scouring Craigslist or looking at scratch-and-dents at the local Sears outlet (because that’s how I roll), but my husband had other ideas. He went all Harry Home-Repairman on me and took it upon himself to…well…glue a rock to the door. When you hit the DOOR OPEN button and pull on the rock, I must admit, the door opens pretty well.
In his defense, he thought the rock would look nice. And, I happen to think the glue that was left to drip down adds a nice touch.
But, truth be told, I keep thinking about how I could hide a screwdriver when company comes over.
I have a friend who told me that her nine year old son’s recent growth spurt has her mourning the loss of her little boy. After she mentioned it, I picked up my glass (the one that was sitting there half-full) and I realized that one of the benefits of having a child who is almost ten, but who is the size of a kindergartner, is that he still fits in my lap.
Yesterday morning, my son climbed into a chair with me and sprawled out across my legs. While I sipped coffee and scanned the newspaper, he reclined his head against my shoulder and read the comics. We sat like that for a while. I don’t know how long he had been staring up at me when I finally noticed.
I smiled and gave him a kiss on the top of his head and asked, “Are you finished with the comics?”
He nodded and said, “Yeah.”
Then I looked in to my coffee cup and saw it was half-empty as he remarked, “Oh, and Mom? You have really big nostrils.”
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