Where in the world is Breaking Up With Burgers?

(You MUST sing that title to the tune of "Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego". If you're thinking, "Who is this Carmen Sandiego she speaks of?", you must die. Do it, Rockapella!)

I'm on assignment in a super-secret far off location which you will never be able to guess in a million bagillion kazillion years. But you can take your best shot...

Here are your clues, and no fair if you're a FB friend and already know where in the world I am.

1. The desert.
2. Art Deco.
3. Roller Coaster. (of loooove, roller coaster, ooh ooh ooh - BAM! Stuck in your head. You're welcome.)

Where in the world am I, bloggie friends?

Stupid or Clever?

The Hubs sent me this picture of the outgoing mailbox in our apartment building.

Is the sender just really dumb, or are they trying to get away with something? Either way, I don't think this letter will get very far.

Oy to the vey.

Hey y'all. I'm alive. I'm here.

I'm exhausted.

The traveling portions of my trip can only be classified as a clusterf*ck. My second flight home was delayed twice. I got home late Tuesday and worked all day Wednesday, then for some reason Bubbers decided that last night would be the night he turned into an insomniac. He finally went to bed after 2 am.

I took a personal day today, and I'm going to use the opportunity to get him to his (very past due) 6 month well check visit.

At any rate, this is a post about nothing, except to say that I'm here, I haven't forgotten about you, and I'll be back as soon as my brain can formulate complete sentences without strenuous effort.

Oh! And I would be remiss if I didn't send a birthday shout out to The BFF!!! Happy 29th birthday!!!

Love, my lovelies.

A Special Treat...

You get my Monday Weigh-In a day early!

I know, I know, you're sitting there wondering how in the world you got so lucky. Well, you can thank my job. I'm currently sitting in the airport waiting for my flight to Atlanta, and then finally to Ft. Lauderdale, where I will be spending two days gathering ideas for our LMS/intranet at a sister company. At any rate, there will not be a reliable scale in my hotel room on Monday morning, so I figured I'd weigh in today so as not to miss it.

Last week, 273.6. This week...

(Drumroll, please)

270.8

2.8 pounds! Yay! And it's a really short week, too, since I weighed in on Tuesday and it's now Sunday. I peeked at the scale yesterday and saw a glimmer of hope that I would weigh in under 270, but alas, it didn't happen. That's okay, though, because I'm stoked with 2.8 pounds!

What have I done differently this week?

Well, since my plane's about to board, I guess you'll have to wait to find out. :)

I'm going off the rails on a crazy train...

(Crazy Train, Ozzy Ozbourne)

I recently discovered a lovely group of lady bloggers, and I'm totally jumping onboard their Crazy Train! Drazil is the conductor of this "loco"-motive, so let's get to chuggin...

In Drazil's world, Fridays are BYOC days. Here's her explanation...

"It’s time for BYOC – Bring Your Own Crazy…a couple of questions we answer to get to know each other better and to give our blogging brains a break! Copy and paste to your own blog and enjoy!"

"Copy and paste to your own blog and enjoy!"...Well, Drazil said it, so I'll do it.

Question 1: If you were asked to symbolize yourself as an animal – which animal would you be?


Um...a monkey? But not one of those monkeys that throws their poo at you. A nice monkey. I say that because I like to have fun and generally feel lighthearted and carefree. Also, if you're my friend on FB, you've seen video proof that I can do an excellent monkey impersonation. Just ask my 6 month old.

Question 2: Did you ever play an organized sport – with coaches, rules and scoring? Tell us about it.


I played one year of softball when I was in middle school, but not for a school team. I was the catcher, so yeah, pretty much the least active member of the team. For two years in high school, I was a member of our show choir, which was a pretty intensive, year-long physical activity, and it was a TON of fun. I miss those days.

Question 3: When did you start shaving your legs?

Oh, geez. Sixth, seventh grade, maybe? I begged my mom to let me and finally just took it upon myself. I'll never forget my older sister laughing hysterically at me one day because I had a smidge of shaving cream on my face from shaving my armpits in the shower. Still to this day, I don't know whether other women use shaving cream on their armpits, or if I'm some sort of shaving cream freak.

Question 4: When you’re in a crabby – pissy – want to stab everyone you see kind of mood – what do you do to get out of it or do you revel in it?

Misery loves company, and as much as I wish I didn't let my bad moods affect other people, I can't say that's true. Usually a foul mood consists of lots of pouting. My poor husband. LOL

Question 5: Repeat question: Summarize your week in blogland and in real life.

In blogland, I discovered some lovely new blogs (Evolution of a Black Butterfly, My 30th Summer, My Trek Downward, and Beer, Dogs and Getting Healthier), and blogged alot myself. I also hit fiddy followers! In real life, I'm super busy at work, developing the online learning management system for my company, and also researching intranet options. I'm leaving on a jet plane Sunday afternoon to head to Ft. Lauderdale for a few days so that I can get some LMS/intranet ideas from a company that shares it's best practices with us.

Personally, my husband has finally decided to quit his horrible job, which makes me happy and scared. I miss my son, who has been at my MIL's house since Wednesday morning, and The BFF and I got to go see The Lion King musical for free because my company is a sponsor. All in all, it hasn't been a bad week.

Peace out, homeslices! Enjoy your weekend!

Fiddy!

I done gots me fiddy followers!

Thanks to the beautiful Miss Glory at Glory Is Losing It, the Ex-Mayor of Burgerville (aka Me) has hit the lovely milestone of fifty amazing, lovely, wonderfully witty Bloggy McBloggerton friends.

I heart you all!

I might be biased and all, but I think I've gotten myself surrounded by some of the best of the blogworld. And I'm eternally grateful for that.

To me, having you all as readers on my blog is less about what I can do for you, and more about what you all do for me. I'm not egotistical enough to think that I am instrumental in any of your journeys. I try to be funny, fun, and honest, and apparently you like that enough to click on the "Follow" button.

But really, knowing that there are people out there on the world wide interwebs who read what I say, who cheer me on, who keep me on track and going, without that (and you), I would have little to go on.

Last night, I ate more than I shoulda, worse than I coulda, but better than I woulda, if it weren't for y'all. I know that now that I'm back in the blogging saddle, I have fiddy (I'm so sorry, I just...can't...type..."fifty") people to report back to. A half-hundred (it's a new term, I just made it up) folks hoping that I do well, sticking with me through the ups and downs, and ups again, and holding out hope that one day, I'll get it right.

I'm starting to get it right. FOR me, yes, but BECAUSE of you.

It's gonna take time..

A whole lotta precious time,
It's gonna take patience and time, oh,
To do it, to do it, to do it, to do it, to do it,
To do it right.

(Got My Mind Set On You - George Harrison)

Question. (I've been on a "The Office" kick lately, and have channeled my inner Dwight Schrute. On second thought...ew).

Anyway, I've got a question. How do you find the time?

I have a six month old baby, a 'full time +' job, a commute, an apartment the size of a postage stamp quite literally filled to the brim with life's junk (which means if you use one thing, the whole place is a disaster), a husband, three full sets of family, friends, and chores all competing for my time. Oh yeah, and sleep too. I have to sleep in there somewhere.

I know I'm not the only one.

I haven't figured out how to fit all of those things - that whole "living" part of life into the 24 hours a day I get.

My day:

• Wake up between 6:45-7:00. My MIL usually shows up around 7:05 to watch Bubbers for the day. The Hubs works third shift, so he's not home. If Logan wakes up during the night (like last night when I had to feed him at 3am) I get to handle it.
• Leave for work by 7:20. Drive 40-ish minutes (on a good day)
• Work 8-5, drive 40-ish minutes (on a good day) home.
• Spend 20 minutes staring at cabinets and refrigerator, willing something to pop out and make itself for dinner, when that doesn't happen, resign myself to a quick frozen pizza or pre-packaged meal. On fancy, well prepared nights, we'll have Hamburger Helper or Tacos, or something that actually requires more steps than "open package, microwave".
• 6:30-7:00ish: Scarf down food during the rare quiet moments when Logan is watching Word World or Dinosaur Train. I'm eternally indebted to Netfix since I don't have cable.
• 7:00ish - 9:00ish: Feed/change/play with/entertain kiddo, while possibly fitting in some time on crack FaceBook.
• 9:00ish: Give kiddo a bath (most nights) which is good for about 30 minutes of "Happy Kid" time.
• 9:30ish: Give kiddo last bottle and hopefully put him down for the night
• 9:45ish: Clean up around the house, catch up on emails/Facebook/blogs while watching something trashy on Netflix.
• Go to bed.

It is worth mentioning that my husband gets home from work anywhere from 9-11am, pays bills and does other house-typey stuff for a bit, then goes to bed. He usually gets about 4 hours of sleep - 6 is a treat for him - before he has to get back up so that {1} my MIL can trek it 45 minutes back to her house in rush hour traffic, or {2} he can be on call for work.

His job requires him to be on call every other week, from Friday at 5pm until Friday at 5pm, which means that while he is physically home, mentally he's working. Scheduling, managing, researching, stressing about whatever stupid Tech he has in Bangladesh or India or China who's not doing his job correctly.

He's exhausted. And if he's in between phone calls or emails or speaking veeeeery slooooowly to Chinese guys, he is as present as he can be. He helps me entertain Logan, or changes his diapers, or feeds him if he can. But it's hit or miss, and because of his stupid job, I can't rely on him to be available to help.

And whether he's on call or not, he has to be out of the house by 10:15 pm to physically go to work. So, not only am I having trouble finding time for life, I'm having trouble finding quality time with my husband.

Not to mention that damn treadmill that keeps nagging at me.

I know that the time after Bubs goes to bed is the "free" time that I have to play around with, but there's not much of it - especially if I want to get to bed at a decent hour. And frankly, when I do have a minute to myself, when nobody else is demanding my attention, I would rather veg than work out.

How do you do it? How do you fit it all in? How do you manage to find time to do the things that you WANT to do around all of the things you HAVE to do?

Help me, blogland!

If I go crazy, then will you still call me Superman?

(Kryptonite, 3 Doors Down)

Monday weigh in (on Tuesday): 273.6 lbs. Fo shizzle.

Here we go, kiddos. So far today, I've kicked butt.

• I took the 26 (yes, I count them every single time because they're evil) stairs to and from the floor my cubicle is on.
• I had yogurt, a slim fast and 1/2 a can of Diet Coke for breakfast.
• I decided to go to the Chick-fil-A in the Food Court at the mall because it would be more walking than going to the stand alone store.
• I didn't park by the entrance closest to the Food Court.
• I didn't search around and around for the closest parking spot to the door. I found a spot, parked, and walked.
• I passed up an elevator and escalator in order to take the stairs to the 2nd story Food Court. Even though they were closer, faster, and my left foot has been killing me.
• I ordered a fruit cup with my combo instead of those famous waffle fries.
• I had ketchup (if you're one of those people who spells it catsup, I can't be friends with you) with my sandwich instead of what I really wanted to dip it in (Polynesian Sauce high fructose corn syrup)
• I faced, challenged, and defeated my kryptonite:



See that gorgeous, toasty bun of deliciousness at the top? Goodbye, my almost lover. Goodbye my almost friend.

In the interest of full disclosure, I did eat the bottom portion of the bun. And I stared at the top portion, salivating through my entire meal. I considered eating it. I considered pinching out the middle deliciousness and still calling it a 'win'. I even considered licking it. That is the stronghold that my abusive relationship with food has on me.

But I didn't.

I finally got smart and flipped it over, so that the golden buttery toastiness wasn't taunting me anymore. When that didn't work, I covered it with a napkin. When that didn't work, I threw it away.

Luckily, that worked. It would have been embarrassing to explain to mall officials why a twenty-something girl in business casual attire was dumpster diving at the Food Court.

Unhealthy choices are my kryptonite, but for the moment, I'm Superman.

I want YOU!

To have a safe and happy 4th of July!

I can't button my pants.

(It's my 200th blog post! Woot! I hope you weren't expecting anything earth shattering to mark the occasion.)

Yes, interwebs, it's true. I wore pants to work today that I am physically unable to button. It's past laundry day, so I'm literally down to the 'slim' pickins. They are size 22 camel colored slacks.

Size 22.

TWENTY-TWO!

Apparently, size 22 is 'slim' in my world now. I am, quite literally, too big for my britches. When did that happen? How did that happen? Rhetorical questions, of course, because I know exactly when and how, but I like to pretend that I don't.

Anyway, I bought several pair of capris before our recent visit to South Carolina, and most of those were 24s. Except for one pair. In one pair, I had to buy the biggest number I've ever bought. I *shudder* thinking about it.

I bought a 26.

(Which is not to say that anyone wearing a 26 or higher should feel horrible about herself. It is just to say that I, personally, have never had to reach that number, and it was a big deal to me.)

I know that stores size things all wonkey and that an 18 in one store could be a 22 in another, but no matter how off the sizing is, I don't have to be a genius to know that a 22, 24, 26 is too big for me. I wish I could say that I don't get caught up in numbers, but when the numbers keep going up, you HAVE to get caught up in them or else they'll just keep going that way.

I vow to never have to buy a 26 (or higher) again.

Soon, I'll share a picture of Mount Pantsuvius, the mile-high stack of jeans and slacks that I'm saving because I refuse to give up hope that I'll be able to fit back into them one day. I just can't bring myself to give up the dream and donate them to Goodwill. When I get home, I'll have one more pair to add to the top. But one day...

One day, Mount Pantsuvius will be conquered and replaced. Goodwill will get my pants, and they'll get them because I can't fit into them. Not because I'm too big, but because they're too big, and no buttoning in the world would ever make them fit.