Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Tuesday Random 5: Of Children, Diets, and Game 6

1. As I type this, my stomach is in knots. I’m not a die hard sports fan, but I do enjoy it. The World Series is giving me ulcers. Arthur Dent calls it the “World Serious,” and I am with him. Serious stress. The Royals down 3-2, but returning to Kansas City tonight. It doesn’t help that we are early to bed, early to rise in the Intrigue house, not by choice, but by necessity. Games that don’t get over until midnight make for long days. Anyway, I’ve got my blue lights up outside and my new Royals cap on. Hopefully it will be a rally cap! I’m sure the Royals will be glad to be home at The K- after all, the fans who make Arrowhead Stadium the loudest in the NFL will be the same fans cheering on the Boys in Blue tonight! (Update: as I finish this, the Royals are up 8-0 in the top of the fourth inning. I'm glad being the home team gave them a boost!)
2. I mentioned last week that I had the privilege of bringing dinner to a new mom and a mom who was suffering a miscarriage. This morning, I received an email about an old friend who is pregnant. Her child is not expected survive past infancy. I also received a text from a friend who was headed to the hospital in labor. It’s strange, in this day and age, we tend not to think so much about infant mortality, but I know more than a few mamas who have buried children with only one date on their headstone.  Heavy stuff for the random five, but this dichotomy of birth and death seems so pronounced to me lately. The realization that, what you thought was so simple when you were young, being born, is really a bigger gift and harder action than we give it credit for. 

3. On a MUCH lighter note, Halloween is upon us. Usually The International Man of Intrigue and I have very creative costumes. This year, I’m phoning it in with a pair of orange scrubs and a double dose of black eyeliner and red lipstick. I’m going as a character from “Orange is the New Black.” Speaking of orange, I can neither confirm or deny that I am currently trying not to get my keyboard messy from breaking into the trick or treat bags of Cheetos I bought to hand out. Speaking of crunchy, cheesy junk food, the Little Explorers think Pirate Booty is hilarious. No matter how many times I’ve explained what the definition of “pirate booty” is, they insist on calling it “Pirate Butts” and laughing hysterically. 

4. Why am I shotgunning tiny bags of Cheetos? Because, starting Saturday, I’m on a team of four in a “mind, body, spirit” challenge. It’s focused on weight loss, but has components of spirituality and kindness as well. I’m sure there will be a few rough days as I detox from junk food, especially Diet Coke, which is legal, but costs me points. I’m really ready. The Developing Nation Diet went to crap when we moved back to the states. I gained it back plus some. I’ve done a little on my own, but I need a jump start and some accountability (like motivation not to guzzle Cheetos). I recently purchased a glider type rowing machine which will allow me to work out in the evening while still bingeing on Netflix with The International Man of Intrigue. I’m working up a meal plan, and I’m ready to fit back into my clothes. Here we go!


5. Last, but not least, my joy. Laura Ingalls Wilder turns 11 months old tomorrow. The time has flown by. Allow me to gush about that curly haired, long eyelashed, beautiful, sweet baby girl. She is such a happy little thing. She giggles with joy when she spots herself in her carseat mirror. Every time. We should all be so happy to see our own reflection. When I go to get her out of her crib in the morning, she giggles with pure joy. Recently, a friend was watching Laura Ingalls Wilder and Arthur Dent for a few hours so I could, you know, scrape a layer of disgusting off the floors and bathrooms. When I walked in the door, my friend was holding Laura Ingalls Wilder’s little hands so she could stand up. When Laura Ingalls Wilder saw me, she literally jumped for joy and shrieked with delight. This teeny tiny for her age child was so happy to see her mama that she bounced, tigger style, and squealed with happiness. Oh, my heart. My joy. 

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