a bit of a loner

Continuing with the theme of adolescent-humor movie themes, we're moving on to The Hangover.

Let's be clear: I'm not really a fan. I've seen it twice, and both times it was a little (lot) bit much for me. And the end credits? With the photos? And the "eeuuwww"? You know? Yeah, you know. My favorite part is about the first 30 minutes. Specifically, the scenes with Zach Galifianakis. Like the wolfpack thing.


I had checked out several books on running from the library two weeks ago. Because you might not know this internets, but I have reached the tipping point with running. I'm going to do it. For the last year, when I've pictured myself happy, satisfied, and excited about life, I've pictured myself running. I'm out on a run, wearing something cute (because when you are imagining things, you can wear what you want. Ask Anne Shirley.), and its awesome. Its amazing. And I decided its time for me to get out of my dreams and get into my car, if you get me.

So. I checked out these books, loaded my little mp3 player up with the Outlander audio tape (yes, I exercise to a book on tape. I have become the most boring person you know.), and planned to head out to the Y. I did some thinking and realized that in my imagination, I was running outside, not on a treadmill. So I decided to run outside, which is something I've only done once since high school gym class. I was going to be a lone wolf, running free at night wherever the paths on campus took me. But then I realize that I have seen way too many Law & Orders to run by myself at night, regardless of the location.

So then I asked my friend Nicole to come with on my first run last Tuesday. And then she said yes. And then I asked Laura, and she said yes, and then Laura asked Lesley. And now my lone wolf pack has become four.


We can run outside of campus at night! Like some sort of slightly to very overweight fitness gang! I'm in a gang! In California!

This kind of exciting life has always seemed to allude me. But not now. I'm in a gang. And we run. And then walk. BUT THEN WE RUN AGAIN. If you are thinking of messing with us, you better be able to run/walk better than us. And that is a debatable skill.

The goal of the running gang/wolfpack is to be in the San Jose Rock 'N Roll Half Marathon next year. Next year, you ask? Yes. Next year. Its not a secret that I'm chubby. I don't want to get hurt, and I do want to run. So I'm doing a 13 week training plan to do a 10k and then I'm moving on to a 26 week half-marathon training plan. And then, in October, I'm going to do a half marathon. Which seems so ludicrous. Thirteen miles? Me? Not in car? I know, right? But it's going to happen.

So, watch out for the roving gang of moderately paced women. One of us wears a weight vest, and she's not afraid to use it.


I've been thinking about that movie Knocked Up.

I first saw Knocked Up when I was barely pregnant. I was still wondering who was going to be my doctor, as my current doctor was also pregnant and would not be around when I was to be delivering the current blob of cells residing in my uterus. So I went to see Knocked Up with my friend Anita, as something fun to do, as I realized my propensity of being able to do fun things planned just an hour before was slipping, like the days of our lives, through the hourglass of time. Depressing, no? But that is how it was in my mind.

So, I went to see Knocked Up with Anita and it was funny, and it didn't make think about things like plot, or denouement, or if some demon was going to be coming though the door to eat someone's soul. It was just a good time. And then we saw our professor sitting two rows ahead with some other guy. We talked about throwing popcorn at his head to get his attention, but for some reason decided against it. At the end of the movie, we went over and said hi and met the friend, who happened to be a doctor. A doctor I was thinking about having as my doctor. For the blob of cells. I realized immidiately I could not have this person who I met socially at a movie about people getting knocked up be my doctor for the time I was knocked up. It simply couldn't happen.

So anyway.

The main reason I was thinking about Kocked Up recently was because of the scene where Paul Rudd is talking to Seth Rogan, while Paul's kids are playing. Paul is talking about how he wishes he was excited for anything as much as his kids were excited about bubbles. And, how their enjoyment just pointed our your inability to enjoy anything. And wow, isn't that true?

What do I (or you) like as much as my daughter likes bubbles? Or the swing? Or slides? Or counting to four (technically, she says 1, 2, 3, 8) and running to me to get a hug?

I mean, I like a lot of things. I like sitting at the table when everyone is either asleep or gone and reading a book. I like baking. I like seeing friends. I like it when it's windy enough for the leaves to move in trees. I like airplanes. I like coffee. But none of those things will get me running around and laughing like a hyena like anything Birdy likes.

Where did she learn to enjoy things like that? And when did we forget?


these two

These guys, let me tell you. They are thick as thieves When we were in Washington, Birdy would look forward to when Grampa would come home--seriously, it was the highlight of her day. When Grandpa was around, no one pushed the swing as well, no one had better shoulders for sitting on, no one made weird enough noises. It was great seeing the two of them become friends, and it's only a matter of time before they start ganging up on me like we did to my mom.



Best summer treat ever.

Also, a giant burn pile that doesn't burn down the house is also a pretty good treat at any time of the year.


i really hate this toy

This toy is sucking my will to live while simultaniously feeding Bridy's dance fever.


baby june

I have the awesome privilege to be in Chambana with my best good friend Brianna and her husband to celebrate the newest addition to my extended family. June was born just a few days ago, and has been so much fun to watch, cuddle, and sniff. Oh, the sniffing! New babies smell so nice.

Birdy is off gallivanting with her cousin Brenna in Vancouver and having the time of her young life. The Hoosband is playing all the music he wants and eating Hot Pockets. I think it's a win-win for everyone.


birdy's bookshelf

Birdy loves a good naptime or bedtime story. These are the current favorites...what were yours as a kid?


oh, have you been here all along?



Anyone here?

No? I guess I understand. It's been, well, a while. Sorry for that. I go through periods where I'm totally in to writing and post a lot (or write a lot in Word or my journal) and then periods of silence for whatever reason. For the last month, I just haven't felt like I have had anything to say, which is sad, because a lot of fun stuff happened.

Here's a little list of interesting things that have developed since my last post:
  • I had wine in a theatre
  • Remember Me is a terrible movie. I recommend bringing wine with you when you see it.
  • I had brie in a toasted sandwich. Sorry cheddar, move on over.
  • We celebrated Birdy's birthday.
  • I made an 11 layer cake.
  • I've gotten in to geneology. I have a relative named Orris!
  • I haven't lost any weight.
  • But I have been more active.
  • But I haven't lost weight.
  • I'm planning on cooking dinner that involves tofu for my family tomorrow. Any and all well wishes appriciated.
  • The Hoosband's parents visited.
  • I've been to the Tech Museum.
  • I had to watch the Star Trek movie.
  • I bought an AWESOME rug at Ikea.
  • Many of you are jealous that there are 2 Ikeas within an hour of here.
  • I just think that might be a good reason for YOU to come and visit us!
  • My brother, my friend Anita, and my friend Jessica are going to visit in the next month.
  • I love my brother.
  • Birdy is a terrible two year old.
  • Birdy is also an incredibly sweet two year old.
  • We welcome any and all two year old parenting advice.
  • I've taken some great photos. Perhaps you will see them before the year 2050 ends.
  • Did I mention the sweet Ikea rug? It's sweet. It's also red.
  • MSN messenger now works on my computer. Let's chat, amigos!
  • I discovered an amazing curry sauce in, of all things, a Weight Watchers cookbook.
  • I haven't lost any weight. I blame the curry sauce. It turns out that just becuase it's a WW recipe doesn't mean you can't just drink glasses of it. Weird, I know.
  • Parenthood is an amazing show. Please to watch and enjoy.
  • Birdy got a guitar (ukelele) from my Best Good Friend Brianna. She now walks around strumming and singing the alphabet song from A-F.

So, here's to a month with more in-depth hard-hittting information about your favorite California girl. Unless you have another girl who is a bigger favorite. If that's the case, then I hope I'm your number 2 girl. At best your number 5.

If it's lower than number 5, I don't want to hear about it.


paging carrie bradshaw

The real question is, if I had these $695 shoes, what WOULDN'T I wear them with?


what is up with cake?


If there is one thing that I want more than anything else right now or 89.4% of any given day, it's cake. Cake with good frosting, like the kind you make. The stuff in the can is good for graham crackers, but not cake. Not delicious, crumby cakey cake. Oh cake. The cake need comes once or twice a month, and usually I make a cake or brownies or something, but you should be proud. I've only make a cake-like item (chess bars, which should have been better than they were, but were still cakey enough that I ate more than I should have) this month, and I think that is much to be proud of considering the last 5 months had a birthday, Thanksgiving or Christmas in it, which is a whole lot worse than cake just once, you know? It's like I'm in the negative for cake eating. If I think about it long enough, I'll find some way to figure out that all the past pieces of cake are cancelled out because of this recent stand against cake making.

Writing about how much I like cake is surprisingly not helping the cake craving that I'm trying to ignore.

I begin to see a root of the continual chubbyness.

However, it should be noted that I have worked out three times this week, and tomorrow will be number four. And I've lost a few pounds since starting.

I will say that the prospect of losing weight is a little scary for me. I almost have to not think about the healthier choices I'm making because it stresses me out as much as it does. The reason for the stress is stupid too--if I lose the weight I want to lose, then I have to keep it off. And that seems incredibly intimidating, since I never set out to gain the weight that I did, you know? So what if I become wildly successful on this journey into sweating for the fun of it and then I fail all over again?

Ma would tell me to stop borrowing trouble. Ma would be right, but Ma also ate salt pork every day and her family almost starved to death in the Long Winter, so I think Ma would say that I'm worrying about the wrong things.

Sheesh. What a convoluted post. I blame it on the cake.


stuff and junk

We've been out of the YMCA loop for a week, since Birdy got the sniffles and the runny noseles two Saturdays ago. Since then, I've worked out once. I felt that it made me sore enough for six workouts, so it all evens out in the end. :-)

But today, I am back in busniess.

I ran for five straight minutes. I feel pretty proud of myself, considering the last time I did that was about a year ago. What makes me laugh is how I kept myself motivated during the longest 5 minutes of 2010: "yes, this sucks, but isn't intense nausea even worse?"

If this is how I'm going to get through this whole business, I think "this is better than throwing up" is a good slogan.

Do you have a slogan for your weight loss?


jelly belly, the lamentable part deux

Today, I went to the YMCA.

At 6:30am.

And weighed myself. With the trainer.

And then did a body fat composition test. With the trainer.

And then kept my face carefully neutral when I saw my percentage. In front of my trainer.

Has anyone ever done that? The body fat thing? Because holy melty cheese nachos, Batman, it's intense. I have a system when it comes to numbers and my body. When I weigh myself, I think of a number that is a few pounds heavier than I think I will be, kind of like a worst-case scenario situation. That way, when I do step on the scale, it's always with the attitude of "it could be worse." This makes me feel better about myself. It doesn't make me feel better about myself when the number is much, much, much higher than my mentally prepared already high number. And that is what the body fat composition test did for me. Yikes.

I mean, I know I'm overweight. I know that "medically" I'm "technically" "obese." But what do "doctors" know, really? Well. I guess more than me. Because the body fat test was a big wake up call for me. Peeps, I have some issues and I need to deal with them as soon as possible. I find the segment on the Biggest Loser where the doctor goes over their health risks and numbers related to their weight, and think to myself that I'm not that bad. I don't weigh 250 pounds, or 300, or 400, and I take comfort and feel smug with those thoughts. Even at my most fit, I was 150 pounds and not necessarily skinny. I don't have the build for that, I think. But today, I realized that I've been living in a fabricated dream world where I think I'm okay and that I don't really have a problem.

I have a problem.

Because many things haven't worked for me, I'm trying something new. Remember when I said this was a shame based Puritanical society I run at this here blog? I'm going to take advantage of that and start posting weekly updates on my progress. Or my backsliding. Or my stagnation. But the big thing is that I'm going to start being accountable for what I eat and how often I work out. But mostly, it’s about humiliation. I think that might be good for me. For more on another very funny guy who lost weight using humiliation and a whole lot of biking, check out Fat Cyclist, who isn't fat at all anymore.


Without further ado, here we go (you can feel free to stop reading now, if you'd like):

Weight: 225
Body fat: 43.7% (Thank god I have big bones??)
Pants size: 20

Ugh. That was rough. But I feel better. I think.

Photo from Cathy Zielske


jelly belly

This last weekend while my parents and brother visited, we made the pilgrimmage to the Jelly Belly factory. And internets, it was pretty cool. We went on the free tour, which allowed us to spend our money elsewhere in their factory store. Needless to say, many beans were purchased, and many beans were consumed. Yummy.


I think I may have overdosed on the candy beans since last Friday. I have a headache that I believe is from the sugar, and is threatening to derail any progress the 30 Day Shred has made. Boo.

 Posted by Picasa


white all night!

My fellow internets, can we talk? I'm rarely passionate about pop culture or celebrities in general. But I feel a need to stand up for Coco. I mean, seriously. SERIOUSLY.

I love Conan.

He's just so tall. And his hair. It's so floppy, it's surpassed silly and soared on to awesome. I mean, seriously. LOOK AT IT.

And also, we need to talk about how funny he is. 1864 Baseball? Classic. Conan goes to Ireland? Amazing. Conan goes to Finland? Even better.

But Jay. Oh Jay. You had a 6 year heads up to when you were leaving. And you can't bow out like a decent person, and instead you selfish choices and try to blame the netword execs. Also, you can't make those jokes about it because you are the guy causing the drama. I mean, you had a great career as the host of the Tonight Show. But you're time is over. It's time to pass the buck. I mean, seriously. PACK UP THE CHIN, MAN.

bloggy blog blog

Many moons ago, I used to live in a small town. I love that small town. Also many moons ago, I was on a design team with some awesome and creative women...and one of them has had her layout just published in Creating Keepsakes! Way to go Angela!

These fabulous women are having a blog hop, and I encourage you to participate, especially if you like paper, free stuff, paper, great ideas, creative things, and free stuff. Start here for more information!


the weiner

Oh peeps, thanks for entering! It was nice to read about what you had for breakfast (points to KP for calling it what it really is: breakie), how awesome I am, how cute Birdy is, and that my Hoosband likes Italian food.

That being said, the big weiner is Jill, comment number 6! Congratulations! Jill, email me with the color/size you would like, and I'll do my best to get it in the mail within 6 months. Just kidding. Kind of.

Can anyone tell me why the post office is the hardest thing to cross of the to-do list? I've had a package that I've been adding to for my best good friend Brianna since the beginning of November. It's shameful, is what it is.


And, it's interesting to note, I smell of bacon, beef, and onions. And it's 12:11 am. Why, you ask? Because I'm a big dumb dummy and started dinner for tomorrow (I guess it's really tonight, at this point), which is stew, which is time consuming, late at night. And the smell of bacon woke Birdy up (THAT'S MY GIRL!). So it's been an evening, to say the least. And I'm due to be up until 1 or 2. And isn't that so incredibly totally awesome in a horrible way?

If anyone wants to hang out with a lady who smells like something Htr or Ron would eat in a heartbeat, I'll be on Facebook.


giveaway funstravaganza!

Hey! Wahoo! It only took me almost two years to get this far! And I haven't really posted anything in the last few months! But no matter!

As a thank you for continuing to click on my link even when  (mostly when) I'm just blabbering along, you can win a piece of our current family history.

The big, super fabulous prize at stake here is one Yikes! Santa Clara University shirt, in any of the colors above. Sizes range from S-XXL. Sizes and colors are limited to what the bookstore has in stock, so if you win and the color/size you choose isn't here, we'll work though it and sub something out.

To enter, leave a comment. It can be anything, from your favorite color to what you had for breakfast to what you WISH you had for breakfast, to how awesome I am on a daily basis. Whatever you want. That being said, please enter only once. You'll need to enter your email address if you are commenting anonymously. Remember, this blog participates in a shame-based Puritan society, and we frown on big, fat, cheaty cheaters. I'll use random.org to choose a winner, so entering early doesn't mean you have a higher chance of winning.

The contest ends at 11:59 PM on Tuesday, January 12th, 2009.

Let the fun begin!


a year ago...

...Birdy was still a baby. Luckily, she continues to love bath time.


a portrait of the artist with crayons

Birdy got an awesome easel for Christmas from Brandon's parents. And by awesome, I mean something that I would have l-o-v-e-d as a kid, considering one of my most prized possessions was my 96 color Crayola crayon set. I did have some last minute doubts as Brandon's dad and I were assembling the easel the night before we had Christmas with them--what if she liked the wrapping paper more than this gift?

But my fears were unfounded, as the little lady spends about 30 minutes each day coloring, painting or chalking. Or rearranging her crayons. Or trying to use crayons on the white board. Or clap her eraser on me. Or sheepishly eat the paint. Or whatever it is that she does while I'm making dinner in the vacinity of the easel.

Either way, she loves it, and that warms my crayon-loving heart.


a dilemma

I feel a quandry, dearest 4.3 readers.

It's time for my second round of Starbucks applications to go out. There are also several full-time positions open at Stanford and at SC. What do I do?

I want the hours and flexibility of Starbucks. Also, I love coffee.

I want the money of a full-time job.

I feel guilty not using my Masters.

I want to be with Birdy during the day and watch her grow.

I want to be able to pay down our debt and maybe save for a house.

I don't want to put Birdy in daycare.

I don't want to pay a lot to commute, if anything.

I always thought that I would stay at home until my kid(s) went to kindergarten. I want my kids to be raised by me, instead of a daycare employee. Nothing against daycare employees, but its important to me to be there for Birdy. Well, either me or Brandon. Conversely, its good for Birdy to be with other little kids and be able to socialize and play with other kiddos. I also like money. Money is good.

If anyone has any advice, please to share it with me so at least I feel like I'm making a somewhat rational decision whatever I choose.



We've been over at the student union building a few times this week, and thankfully I didn't have any cash on me. Why? Because a student group was selling cupcakes that looked like Sesame Street characters. And they were adorable. And Birdy loves Sesame Street. And I love cupcakes.

But I didn't, and it was just yesterday that Brandon brought home a Cookie Monster cupcake, which took him about 3 days longer than I thought it would. He has a way of spoiling her, you see, that can go from 0 to 492 in about .3 seconds.

The following is a public service announcment: cupcakes in the afternoon are not recommended by the surgeon general for those under 5. If you've done it, you'll know why.


some stuff

It's a good sign your workout regimen is working well when it's your off day and you are so sore you are thankful that all you have to do during nap time is clean. And not try and kill yourself with Jillian.


But we have a friend getting married this summer. In Hawaii. And, I have this dress from my friend Shelby's wedding that I would really like to wear. And it's a 14. And I last wore it three years ago. And I'd really like to wear it on the beach in Hawaii this summer, you know? Sigh.

I also made an appointment with a personal trainer at the Y this Friday. It was their next available time as of last night. The time? 6:30 am. For those playing along at home, it's still dark then. And a little chilly. And did I mention dark?


Also, has anyone seen my phone???


in which we make a 'wich

My best good friend Brianna gave Birdy a sandwich making set from Melissa & Doug, which I very well many marry. We play sandwich shop everyday, and wanted to share it with you.


a milestone

Fair Internets, we are reaching a moment here on And Birdy Makes Three. My 200th post!

Since people seem to commemorate such happenings with a giveaway, I'm doing the same. I'll be giving away a Santa Clara tshirt (you pick the size/color) on the 200th post, which should be coming soon. This is the 192nd post, and I plan on posting one thing each day. This means the 200th post will be next Tuesday, January 12th.

I'll use random.org to determine the winner. Please enter only once, or I'll have to scold you publicy. I try to run a shame-based Puritan society here, and we don't take kindly to big fat cheaters.

family portrait

Look, it's us as Sesame Street characters. I find Cookie Monster's portrayal as myself is chillingly accurate.


like, woah

We all have those moments in life where we feel like we're on a rollercoaster. One memorable roller coaster moment for me was when I started having hard contractions with Birdy. I wanted off the ride, and I wanted off as soon as possible.

The most recent roller coaster moment in my life happened a mere hour ago. I was at home, minding my own business, waiting for my Jillian Michaels DVD to start up. She was going through her chatter about the workout, and I was thinking I could really go for a cupcake. Then, through my cupcake-induced workout-hating haze, I hear these words: "ballistic," "explosive," and "dynamic." These are words I hear on the ubiquitus crime shows I watch, and they never describe anything good and almost always describe someone's death. I wanted off the DVD, but I couldn't legitimately turn the thing off, because then I would be a weenie and a quitter, and if there is one thing I don't like on the Biggest Loser it's the weenie quitters.

Now, I haven't worked out in a long time. Brandon got me two Jillian Michaels DVDs for Christmas, so I figured once Birdy was down today I'd pop one in. I chose poorly, as the metabolism one is 50 minutes of  "you've got to be kidding me"s and "ow ow ow ow"s. And, gulp, jiggling. I hate jiggling. Even at my lowest weight, I didn't do anything that could create long periods of jiggling. I liked pilates and elliptical machines and swimming. Fluid movements. However, excessive amounts of jiggling have proved themselves responsible for lowering cupcake cravings, since things like cupcakes made me the victim of jiggling in the first place.

In short: I've had my butt kicked today, but I don't want a cupcake anytime soon.

birdy and ernie discover the flowers

Posted by Picasa