The Bean Blog (currently on hiatus)

Monday, May 31, 2004

Six of Me, Half Dozen the Other

The Zone diet. A way to combine math with cooking. As I don't particularly like math or cooking, one might wonder why I would decide to go on the Zone diet. Although I do think that Barry Sears is a money grubbing whore who would sell his soul and damn the innocents in order to make a buck, he's got a few good points. And I'm going to try to get myself knocked up (like Celine Dion's heart, my genetic code must go on), so I've got to leave my low-carb ways behind me. Anyway, the Bread Winner and I just spent about twenty minutes trying to figure out how to make a recipe for stuffed chicken breasts Zone-friendly. She started doing some mathmatical equation involving teaspoons, ounces, and fractions--ultimately ending up with a long number preceded by a decimal point. And all of this with no calculator. Oh, to have been a math major in college. I glanced at the numbers briefly, shuttered, then promptly turned my head away and focused on my TV, where young girls in short skirts and skimpy tops played tennis in Paris. Bend over, Ms. Capriati, and receive that serve....

Sunday, May 30, 2004

A Word About Cordless Drills

They seem like a great idea. In fact, they are. Nothing is better than running around your house, drilling holes willy-nilly, never having to worry about tripping over a cord or unplugging it from one room and then plugging into another. However, when your battery is dead, you're out of business. For instance, I have been putting off installing a sink for, oh, at least four or five months. Today, it a flurry of home improvement excitement, I grabbed my trusty drill and took the first step of drilling the holes for the pipes. Or, I tried to do so. After about five minutes, the drill stopped. No more battery. Now I just have to sit here, feeling my motivation seeping out of me like money from my wallet (in other words, very quickly). Whoever knew I would have cord envy?

Saturday, May 29, 2004

Four Me

Jesus H Christ, my back is killing me. This is what I get for doing a good deed. Spent the whole afternoon helping my partner (from here on out known as the Bread Winner) make about 30 meals for my grandparents. Yes, she's a good sport, better than me in every way, considering these are my grandparents and not hers. But my back has been a bitch all week, and that's got to count for something. Now I am lying on my couch with an ice pack pressed into my lower back. Sam Cassel of the Timberwolves is a big WIMP. If I can help cook 30 meals over six hours, he can get his ass onto the basketball court and help his team not suck so much. Oh, the Timberwolves. I want them to win so badly (the Bread Winner is from Minnesota, so it's my home-state-in-law). I don't think it will happen though. Look at that, I've been distracted. Let's focus on what's important here--ME. I am ready for my back to go IN. It's been OUT long enough. I've been a good sport (well, not really), but I'm ready for this to be over now.

Friday, May 28, 2004

A Third of Me

I was thinking about "signs" today. For instance, I've been on a diet for the past 3+ months. As of last Tuesday, I had lost 29.5 pounds. My goal was to lose 30. So I was only half a pound from my goal. But this serious wave of depression hit me on Monday or Tuesday, and on Tuesday, I decided that I had to have some ice cream. Now, I haven't had any real ice cream for 3+ months (had some fake, diet stuff a few times). I've wanted ice cream many, many times. I've struggled with my desires, but for the past 3 months, I've managed to stay away from ice cream. But not on Tuesday. On Tuesday, I took myself down to the convenience store, generously stocked with many flavors of Ben & Jerry's and Hagan Daas, and I picked out a pint. I went home, with my ice cream in my hand, and as I was unlocking the door, the neighborhood crossing guard (school nearby) said, "You look great." She knows I've been on a diet. Everyone in the neighborhood does. As I looked at the ice cream in my hand, I thought, "Is this a sign? Should I NOT eat the ice cream after all?" Well, I ate it and promptly put on three pounds. Sigh. Then today, I rode my motorcycle into town to meet a friend for lunch. I'm still feeling depressed and down, and as I made my way back to my bike, a few big drops of rain started to fall. I though, "Great. I'm depressed, and now I'm going to get soaked on my way home. Woe is me." But then it stopped raining. Or really, I should say that it never started--just a few isolated drops fell. As I got on my bike and headed home, I wondered if that was a sign--were things going to get better for me? I've decided that's bullshit and my life still sucks, rain or no rain.

Thursday, May 27, 2004

Me Two

My back is good enough to go. I'm heading across the state line into.... well, just to Delaware. How did my life get to the point where leaving Philadelphia and going to Delaware for the afternoon has become the highlight of my week? I hope my friend Beth-Marie is feeling okay today. She got knocked on her ass from a round of chemo two weeks ago, and she's got at least three more rounds to look forward to. It might not even wipe that goddamn cancer out anyway. Why why why... (my mother's voice: Because X and Z were invited to a party and Y was left out)

I've got to pick up a 50 pound bag of dog food for Beth-Marie and hope it doesn't fuck up my back again. Then I'm going to drag her to the local health food store and see if I can get her to buy some flaxseed oil. Can't hurt. Might help. Off I go.

Wednesday, May 26, 2004

the first of me

Life is a little unsettled around me. Animals are sleeping, weighing the world down with responsibility. Four dogs to my right, a cat to my left, another somewhere else. On the phone, my girl is talking about how she isn't sure if she's happy with her job or not. I feel the animals on top of me, me on top of her. She is eventually convinced that she is happy. Seven lives hang in the balance.

I think about the house, unfinished, the sink I never installed, the molding on the side of the stairs, the car making ominous noises, the tape around its moonroof. I think about going to Chicago for some fun with Vic Vegas and his crazy life. I want to get out of here, out from under the weight of it all.