Check out what I just received in my inbox:
Dear Karen,
I am contacting you with regard to a publicity campaign that is currently
being undertaken for the new Gillian McKeith book (Food Bible, The Complete
A-Z Guide to a Healthy Life).
We have identified your blog as being influential within the relevant area
of healthy living.
We would, therefore, like to send you a complimentary copy of the book for
your personal review with no obligation.
If you would like to receive a copy of the book, please do reply with your
address for postal delivery.
Thanks,
MediaCo (uk) Ltd
Here are my reactions:
Gullible me: How cool is that! I LOVE You Are What You Eat! Courtesy of one of my favorite channels, BBC America.
Cynical me: Some dork is playing a joke on me and I’m totally an idiot who’s falling for it.
Well, we’ll see if anything comes in the post. If so, I may have to change the name of my blog from hamfriedrice.com to mungbeanstew.com
of Lasik.
Last night my contact broke. Yes, “broke” in half. I wear gas permeable lenses which translates into small, rigid discs of silicone material which sit against my pupils, squishing them into the right shape so I can see. Or, for a more accurate definition, click on allaboutvision.com
This morning in the shower I pondered my “disability” of being visually impaired. I don’t get body odor, I never need to shave my legs or underarms, and I have straight teeth without having worn braces. But, unless it’s less than a foot in front of me, I am unable to see more than a blurry outline. Because of severe astigmatism, I wear gas permeable lenses rather than soft contacts. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be able to see without glasses. Well, I suppose everyone has trials and problems.
So now it’s the nerd alert. What an unfortunate stigma. But I’ve learned that since grade school. Only now, instead of coke-bottle lenses set in ugly glasses, I wear fashionable, green, kate spade specs. You might say they look artsy and chic. I say they’re still glasses which make me look like a nerd. C’est la vie.
Mother, I love you;
Mother, I do.
Father in Heaven
Has sent me to you.
When I am near you,
I love to hear you
Singing so softly that
You love me too.
(Words and music by Lorin F. Wheelwright.)
Today I thought about how blessed I am to be a mother to three beautiful children. I carried them in me, gave birth to them and have watched them change and grow. Many times the going is rough, but every now and then there’s a sublime moment that I cherish and hold on to. They are precious to me and these fleeting moments are the treasures and riches I will carry with me when I die someday. I am also grateful that I have a mother who loves me and did her best to teach me well and instill in me a sense of character, respect, honesty and integrity. I hope I can instill these same values in my own children.
For years my dream car was a BMW. I know, really exciting. I’ve never really been interested in sports cars, SUVs, or cars in general. Currently, I drive an ugly beige sedan. It’s a little crowded, but otherwise functional. What matters to me is that it drives well and I can afford the modest car payment. However, since baby #3 came along, I’ve been looking at larger vehicles, including the Honda Odyssey. I never thought I’d consider a minivan. Yuck. But the 2008 design is cool and therefore considered acceptable. But all that was before the unveiling of… the 2008 Yukon/Tahoe Hybrid. Just imagine, a full-sized SUV that gets the same gas mileage as a Toyota Camry. Awesome.
Dear Matt,
For Mother’s Day, I would like a Yukon or Tahoe Hybrid. They only run for about $50,000.
Love,
Karen
Ha ha. I am going to start saving my pennies.
Last night I went to see Iron Man and it turned out to be one of my favorite superhero films. After a rough week with the kiddies, I needed a moment to myself. Matt was kind enough to stay home and watch basketball, giving me the green light to go out. I purchased my ticket for what the employee called Club 21, an adults-only theatre. Sounds kinky, I know. (Ha! You wish!) Film goers pay a premium of seventy-five cents more to sit in a digital theatre with no screaming babies, children or teenagers allowed. The previews were already playing as I quietly sneaked into my reserved seat. I was sandwiched between a morbidly obese couple to my left and Beavis & Butthead on my right. The small theatre held less than one hundred people; most of them looked like die hard comic book readers, or what I refer to as fan boys. I was probably the most hygienically proficient and most socially well-adjusted among the entire group. (Although, how many women would go and see Iron Man by themselves? I suppose the tomboy in me just takes over.)
The dialogue was witty and the writing, acting and directing were superb. Robert Downey, Jr. was surprisingly excellent. I loved watching his character evolve from a selfish, self-centered boozy playboy into a caring, feeling man who realizes his actions have significant consequences. The most entertaining part of the evening, however, wasn’t the film. Whenever his character Tony Stark was surrounded by scantily clad women, I could hear mutterings, “Ohhhh yahhh” from Beavis & Butthead on my right, as well as from the entire male population inside the theatre. “Huh-huh, huh-huh…” followed by “Ohhhh yahhh!” Forgive the crassness, but I kept thinking, these poor dorks need to get some action. I mean, really. Get a life and go meet some real girls. Stop fantasizing over some images of lipo-suctioned skinny thighs and a pair of fake boobs. I couldn’t help but wonder about the poor woman sitting next to me with her husband/boyfriend. They were each about 80 pounds over weight. I wondered if it hurt her sense of self-worth as the catcalling occurred to the women on screen. I worried if it made her feel uncomfortable or sad. As I relayed this to Matt, he called me a “tender heart.”
But as Matt also succinctly stated, “men are pigs.” And I have to agree. “Ohhhh yahhhh.”
