We're in diet detox

This weekend we went to Borders, here in town, and bought two South Beach Diet books (the Book, and a cookbook).  In reading the Book of them, it became clear to us that we eat too much of some bad stuff, mostly refined sugar and processed carbs.  Or, as I like to think of them, Pop Tarts.

So, on Monday, we began the South Beach Diet.  Here’s the gist.  For two weeks—what they describe as detox—you eat no refined sugar, and no carbs.  All salad, lean meats, eggs, and a wee bit of cheese.  Then, after those two weeks, you start to re-introduce your body to the good stuff, a little bread, a little pasta, maybe a little sugar, here and there.  Everybody online says the first three days are hard.

And I’m here to tell you: hell yeah.  I’m not hungry, mind you.  The fridge full of romaine, boston lettuce, bell peppers, celery, scallions, and tomatoes sees to that.  But I feel… unsatisfied.  Tiffany described it as the feeling she has when she drinks a lot of water, and I know exactly what she means.  Like I’m full of nothing.

Plus, I really miss is the time I used to have to… I don’t know, do anything but cook.  The SBD is full of good green stuff, which means it costs a hell of a lot at the store, and we spend every waking moment preparing food.  Mornings used to be about pouring cereal.  Now we actually have to prep the night before, and cook the morning of.  And while dinner is not much more work, after dinner is the killer.  We used to put the kids down and then do some work (during the semester Tiffany always brought work home), have a snack, maybe watch some TV, pay bills, catch up on email… now we put the kids down and we cook.  In addition to having just cooked a dinner, we now wash the dinner dishes, make lunch for the next day (last night we cooked shrimp, cut up salad, made jello, and would have made a dressing from scratch, but we gave up), prep anything for breakfast (last night we cut up mushrooms), and then wash dishes again.  And by then it is 10 pm or later, which means we go straight to bed or we stay up and get five hours of sleep.

Something is going to have to give.  We’re going to try our best to hold on these first two weeks of detox, but it had better get easier.

Oh, and two results to report so far: In about 58 hours so far on the diet, I’ve lost 1.5 pounds, and pooped zero times.  I’m sure you needed to know that.

Elm as ground cover

Last weekend we noticed a million (and I am not kidding) little weedlets coming up in our flower beds.  And we have lots of flower beds.  This weekend they were all still there (stupid mild weather and stupid rain).  We started weeding them, by which I mean, we sat for a couple of ours, plucking them up by hand, and managed to clear a 4 foot by 3 foot area, roughly 1/200th of our flower beds.

American Elm ground cover

A little research on the Intarwebs turned up the culprit.  Our great big American Elm.  Apparently these are little tiny elm trees, struggling for survival.

American Elm seedlingsAmerican Elmlet

I guess I’m not so worried anymore, since elms are so rare these days, there’s no chance we’re going to have a million successful elm trees growing in our yard.  But they are successful so far.  Witness the photos below.

There isn’t any useful advice online, except the one piece we are going to follow.  Ignore it, and they might mostly die off.  We’re going to accelerate that by putting fresh mulch down on top of them.

If you’re looking for an elm tree, you might get back to us in about a month.

Upside down tomato

We have planted our upside down tomato.  We’ve also planted some tomatoes in the usual direction, but I am most curious to see how the Topsy Turvy planter fares.  The idea is this: you plant your flower, vegetable, or whatever, in this vinyl bag, and hang it from something tall.

Until about a month ago, we had nothing tall enough or sunny enough to do it.  Then my father in law built the tree house, complete with protruding spar (where the swing was going to go).  And now we have a spot.  Not sure if it is tall enough, given how tall tomato plants get, and this one won’t be acting against gravity.

If need be, we can always throw a rope over a tall branch and string it up that way.

The tree houseTopsy Turvy on the tree house

Topsy Turvy tomato plant

Anybody had any luck with these Topsy Turvy planters?

Riding the rails from Lawrence

When I was a wee boy, growing up in Argentina, we used to take the train all the time.  We’d walk to the station, wait for the train, get on, and go places.  I don’t remember where we’d go, and frankly, I don’t think that was too important at the time.  I was on a train.

Years later, in Madrid and New York, I’d take the subway all sorts of places.  When I came out to the Midwest, I met people who had never been on a train, much less commuted on one.  It was foreign to me.  And to them, I guess.

But now that I’ve lived here for more than a decade, I realize that I’ve been on trains… well, I can count the times on one hand.  More importantly, my children have been on two trains in their lives, neither of which really count.  One was fake Thomas at Thomas the Tank Engine Days in Baldwin, KS.  The other was the light rail in Denver, CO.

Last night I found out the Lawrence has a working Amtrak Station.  It gets visited by the Southwest Chief (video) twice a day, once on its way to Los Angeles, and once on its way back to Chicago.  Even better, it stops in Newton, KS, which is a half hour from Wichita, where Grandma lives.

Unfortunately, a trip to Newton would have to start at 12:32 am, arriving at 3:25 am.  And the return trip picks up at 3:01 am, arriving back home at 5:49 am.

Not exactly the trip to take a five-year-old on.

Other stops on the way include Chicago and KC in one direction, and Las Vegas, Flagstaff, and Los Angeles in the other direction.  It might be a fun trip to make when the boys are older, and we can budget for a vacation (the trip to Grandma’s would cost $162!).

Or, I could wish really hard for Amtrak to start another train on a 12 hour offset from the first.  That’s right, Congress, double Amtrak’s budget!  Please?

Skipping my first day of work

Today was to be my first day at work. But I resigned from that job this past Friday. Because I have another new job now.

The big news first, I guess. I have secured an honest-to-goodness, full-time job at the University of Kansas. First, I’d like to thank my mother, who provides the opening icebreaker for all my interviews. When they read my application and call me Robert, I tell them to call me Danny. Then I say with a smile, “I blame my mother, for naming me one thing and calling me another.”

I’d also like to thank my references, who always tell me they sing my praises from the top of the nearest mountain. Except for Tobias, who always tells me he tells them I’m a right bastard. But I think he’s lying to me. Thank you, Colette, Molly, and Denny. And Tobias, sure.

Here’s how it played out.

Back in January I applied for two KU jobs at roughly the same time.  One was a half-time position.  But that’s what you do when you’ve been looking for work for ten months.  You apply for everything.

Two months later, after hearing very little from those jobs (so go the wheels of HR in Higher Education), the half-time job called me.  They wanted to hire me.  Yay!  But I had to tell them that, since applying, we had decided to put our littlest boy in the most expensive daycare (that’s how we roll), and the half-time salary (which was generous for half-time) was not enough.  I could take the job, but they had to know I would continue looking for full-time work.  They were incredibly generous and kind, said that would be fine, and started working hard to find another half-time position to make up the difference.  In the meantime, I signed a letter to start working for them half-time.  Today was to be my first day.

Then last week it all bubbled up.  The half-time job found full-time funding (by adding half-time in another unit) and the full-time job interviewed me and almost immediately offered me a job.  It took some deliberation, but in the end the new job won out.

It was a very surreal Friday last week.  I heard from the new job that they wanted me, and I accepted.  I called HR to ask how to resign a job I had not yet started.  ”I don’t want KU to have to cut me a check for $8,” I said.  The HR woman thought for a second, and said, “Well, if you don’t show up for work…”  Problem solved.

Then I emailed the original job’s two directors (the two half-times) that I was quitting, which seemed an odd thing to do since I hadn’t started, really.  Through it all, their staff has been so kind, and understanding, and generous with their time and effort.  I am genuinely sorry that I won’t be working with them.

I’d spent ten months getting rejected and rejected, after working at places where people loved me (well, except for Tobias!), and it has been so nice to have people want me again.

I am excited to start working.  This weekend we went and bought a ton of clothes for me (to replace two years of jeans and t-shirts).  I am excited to have colleagues again, and to be part of a University community again.  And I know things will have to change (I’ll have to get up earlier, for one) but it will be nice to have the money numbers going up, instead of down.

Yay me!

Tattoo as reward

This post is sort of a follow-up to my hair shearing entry.  My hair is now short.  Really short.  But I didn’t do it myself.  I went back to SuperCuts and told them to cut it short.  Really short.  And they did.

My new hair style At home, I tested the length using my own trimmer, to see how I might maintain it now that it is soup-a-short (how would you spell it?), and I have some idea, though it is tricky long in some places and shorter in others.  (And there’s the Tintin twist in front…)  We’ll see.  And there’s the back, which my dear, beloved wife is going to have to do.

Now that this is done, and it was stupefyingly anticlimactic, I might add, I’m looking for another something to motivate me.  I have a goal in mind, and I would like some sort of reward for when I reach that goal.

I think I’m going to get a tattoo.

The question is, what?  And where, of course.  (And when, the goal ain’t easy.)  I’d like something meaningful, but simple.  My aesthetic is not fancy, but I do appreciate craftmanship.  I’m looking for a Mission style tattoo, I guess.  I need to think on this, but I am taking suggestions.

As to where, well, what’s the point of getting tatted if nobody sees it?  I’m thinking about the hands, wrist, or forearm… it’ll depend on the design, no?  I’m not going to go all Mike Tyson or anything, don’t worry.

And then, of course, there’s the selection of shops in town.  I guess, when I get to my goal, I’ll have to do some research.

What do you think?

I kiss you!

Change is in the wind. No, no mid-life crisis, but I have been engaging in a wee bit of introspection these past few days. My life ain’t what I want it to be, and I’m the person best suited to changing that.

On the job front, I’ve been searching for a job for about eight months now, and have sent out lots of letters, had a few interviews, and even withdrawn from one search (still a good idea: seven months later they still haven’t found a sucker to take the job). I have a couple of irons in the fire at the moment, and a couple of prospects possibly on the horizon. It has been a bit depressing, but I do still believe it’s not me, it’s them. That is, the jobs that have been open haven’t been up my alley, though I’ve still applied for many of them. So, I’m okay there.

To hedge that bet, however, I’ve spent these last eight months sorta kinda trying to work freelance web design. I set up a business site, set up a bank account, did some soliciting, and while I got some nibbles, I’ve had no bites. I also started blogging in earnest, building my personal brand, and dipping my toes into a couple of niche markets (shopping blog, television blog, sports blog, etc.). And while the personal blog has been pretty successful, the other avenues haven’t. And it takes a lot of time. Not rewarding + a lot of time = unhappiness.

And personally, I’m getting fat(ter), I’m losing my temper more often, I’m ignoring my dog (those of you who know me may be most shocked by that admission), I haven’t made any friends here (and we are well past the one-year mark)…

It all adds up to a little bit of depressing, and a lot o’ bit of frustration, because I still think I’m better at these things than my success (or lack thereof) indicates.

So. I’ve been thinking. And I have come back to the simplest of principles. Keep it simple, stupid.

So. I’m going to pare back the online ventures to just two: my personal brand site, and my design site. All the niche blogging is going to get rolled back into the personal site, which will make it more eclectic even than it is now (which is a whole ‘nother issue). I am actually greatly relieved to have just two work sites to think about: in just the past day, since I’ve been beta testing this idea in my head, I feel more relaxed and much skippier.

I’ll keep looking for work, I’m committing to walking the dog daily again (I know!), I’m going back to my awareness eating plan (which worked well until Thanksgiving last year), and hopefully I’ll find time for some of the things I have been missing: self, books, my lifestream, fun, friends, art.

It’s a good feeling to be doing something, even if it’s all in my head that the doing’s getting done.

By the way, the likelihood of the head trimming is going up.

Should I trim my head?

I was trimming today (I have a beard, so it’s not shaving, that’s what I do to my neck), and I came ever so close to just running the trimmer over my head, too. I’m going bald, and in that way that’s going to leave me looking like Paul Reiser’s brother in Mad About You. I used to go to an expensive stylist ($45 every six weeks) and now I have begun going to a SuperCuts-type place, for $20. But the cut is much inferior, and I will probably have to go monthly to keep it looking any good. The math still works out in favor of SuperCuts, but as I was trimming today, I thought to myself, “why not cut out the middle man, as it were, and just do it myself?”

So, Intarwebs, why not?

(I did think to call my wife about it, but she was already in class, and I wasn’t feeling it enough to just go with it, and damn the torpedos.)

What makes you laugh?

Another from the Real Simple files. What makes me laugh? I laugh at things that are clever, and I laugh at things that are dark. Examples:

What’s brown and sticky? A stick!

That one always gets me. It’s the perfect joke. I’ve taught it to my son (who is five) and he likes it, too. Better, he repeats it. When he starts getting into poop jokes, he’s going to love me even more. It’s puerile (Ding! $10!) and it’s clever (’cause a stick is stick-y, yes?) and it’s easy to remember, which is my real problem with jokes.

As for things that are dark… One of my favorite pins (back when it was fashionable to wear pins… the eighties?) has the symbols from a deck of cards on it. It says:

I (heart) my dog. I (spade) my dog. I (club) my dog. My dog is dead.

It is miserably dark and demented, and yet, even just typing it out now, I can’t help but grin. I love it because it plays on the whole “I heart you” crap, by taking it to its logical conclusion, it shocks people, and it is just so over the top. Ha! See, I’m laughing right now.

Sigh.

What makes you laugh?

If I knew then what I know now…

From the “too perfect to be real” profiles at the back of Real Simple comes this open ended question: If I knew then what I know now…

Here’s my answer.

If I knew then, what I know now, I wouldn’t have been so worried about meeting the perfect girl. I know, kinda cliche. But when I look back on my life, some of the regret, most of the angst, and all of the crying revolves around women not loving me. I had a wonderful relationship with a girl in college (Hi, Helen!) but when we went our separate ways, it was over love. I was stupid then (not that I’m not now), I was a mess in high school, I fumbled a couple of relationships after college, you should read my diary from then (check that, you shouldn’t) and then, out of the blue, there she was. My lover, my wife, my partner, the mother of my children. The perfect girl. She’ll be the first to tell you she’s not perfect, but I’ll always tell you that she’s perfect for me.

If you knew then what you know now…