Kay's Blog

That New Year's Diet? Here's the Skinny

It's January, which means it's time to think about New Years Resolutions. I have a long list. On the top is my bottom.

Along with the rest of my body. I ate way too much over the holidays; now I'm carrying more pounds than the British Treasury. When it comes to my weight, I need to make like those out-of-town relatives and take off.

That's why I paid close attention to a recent article about healthy eating in Time Magazine.  (Yes, I subscribe to Time magazine, thankyouverymuch. I've found reading it makes me a lot smarter-looking).

You might not want to read Time magazine -- I know I don't. So if your New Year's Resolutions include weight loss, here's a summary of the latest healthy eating tips, along with my thoughts:

"When you eat carrot cake, scrape off the icing." 

I already do that; the icing is my favorite part.

"Use tub margerine to make a Hot Buttered Rum. It will have less cholesterol - and fewer calories."

It won't have ANY calories when you offer your guests a Hot Margerined Rum and they say "Um, No Thanks..."

"When dining with a friend, order one dessert and 2 spoons."

Try to choose a friend that's coming down with the stomach flu, which you'll probably catch.  By the time you finally recover you'll be 5 pounds thinner.

"Instead of Cream, substitute Evaporated Skim Milk."

However, when describing something as REALLY GREAT do not substitute the saying "the Evaporated Skim Milk of the Crop."

"Use portion-control. When it comes to meat, estimate your portion size using a deck of playing cards."

Be careful when eating in restaurants, where portions are estimated using the size of an actual deck.

To get the proper nutrients in your diet, include all colors of the rainbow."

Easy if you like M and M's.

Only eat while sitting down.

While keeping one hand on the steering wheel.

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By following these healthy eating tips, winning the game of losing should be a piece of cake.

With the icing scraped off, of course.

The Perfect Christmas

Some people live too far away from their families to spend the holidays with them.

Others aren't so lucky.

The holidays are stressful enough without extra people around. Of course, like that very first Christmas, most of the work falls on the woman.

It's our own fault; women get caught up in a holiday vision that's sappier than a Christmas Tree. We not only buy the gifts, we buy the idea of perfection. Even though it's just a dream, we drive ourselves crazy trying to make it come true. We shop. We cook. We do more Wrapping than Ice Cube.

When it comes to all these details, nobody else seems to care. In fact, the only guy I know that worries about Christmas is Santa (I've heard he carries that extra weight because he's a Stress-Eater).

When I woke up on Christmas Day, I admired my perfect house. It was sitting on the coffee table. And it was made of Gingerbread.   

Meanwhile, our hair-do's looked like hair-don'ts, our menu for the day consisted of Chips and Dip and the floor was littered with dead pine needles.

Nobody seemed to care.

Getting (Gift) Carded

"It's better to give than receive." That's what I'd say if I opened a Christmas gift and found a one-year membership to AAA Travel Service.

Despite the ads I've heard, promoting a one-year membership to a travel service as a "great gift idea" is such a big stretch it could leave marks.

I'm not saying I don't like giving - and getting - presents.  Without presents, Christmas would be Ho-Ho-Hum.  But sometimes I wish I could turn on the TV or radio without every retailer begging me to pass the buck.

Of course, we all want to buy that perfect gift for family and friends. Since we don't have a clue what that is, many of us buy Gift Cards, found everywhere from Subway to Amtrak. They're a "one size fits all" option. They save time. And you can spend a little or a lot.

If you're like me, this Christmas you'll card more people than most bartenders. 

Here's the problem: it turns out many Gift Cards are lost, forgotten, or never redeemed for some other reason; over 10% of Gift Cards are never used. I'm in that 10%. I'm slightly unorganized - on a good day. When it comes to Gift Cards, I could easily win the prize for the Biggest Loser.

I'm not saying you shouldn't buy me a Gift Card; unlike a AAA Membership, they're fun to receive. But if you're wondering whether you should spend a little or a lot, the answer is: a little. I'll probably never know the difference.

My Muffin-Top

How embarrassing: yesterday I was accidentally seen with a visible Muffin-Top.

If you don't know what a Muffin-Top is, I'm jealous.

Here's Wikipedia's definition: "a person, usually female, whose flabby midsection spills over the waistline of his or her pants in a manner that resembles the top of a muffin spilling over its paper casing. This generally occurs when an individual wears low-rise, hip-hugger pants, or midriff-baring tops that are too small."

I wasn't seen with this kind of Muffin-Top. Sure, I have several spare tires, not including the one in the trunk of my car. But I work harder to keep them undercover than the CIA. The term "Muffin-Top" makes me so nervous about having space between my pants and shirt I don't even like shopping at The Gap.

Even though the stubborn padding around my waist gives me grief, yesterday I had a different kind of Muffin-Top; one that was equally embarrassing. I had the kind where you stop at Starbucks for a Latte and some Marionberry Muffins, then put the Muffins on the roof of your car while you dig through your purse for your car keys, and forget the Muffins are on top of your car while you drive away.

I was home before I figured out what happened. The people who'd honked and pointed at me along the way weren't being rude. They were trying to alert me to my mistake.

I felt bad for making menacing gestures in return. I felt even worse because sadly, my Muffins had fallen off during the trip. My Muffin-Top was gone.

Too bad the other kind of Muffin-Top isn't as easy to lose.

Little Red Writing Hood

I got a huge shock earlier this week, and it wasn't from dropping my hairdryer in the sink. It was from seeing explicit pictures on the Internet while writing my blog.

I thought I'd found a great deal - a free site to publish my writing. Perfect, I thought, until I decided to click "View next blog."

Yikes. I didn't expect that kind of view.

Apparently this type of site isn't policed for content, which I should have known. I felt like a naive Little Red Riding (Writing?) Hood. Just like the girl in the Fairy Tale, I'd innocently wandered into the dangerous woods, and lurking in the woods was the Big Bad Wolf.

Only this time he was naked.

Get Off My Triscuits

I used to like Rachael Ray. I even bought one of her first cookbooks. Then she became as over-exposed as Brittney Spears without underpants. Now, with three TV shows and a multitude Cookbooks, I'm tired of her saying "EVOO," calling Sandwiches "Sammies," and exclaiming "Yum-O!"

It makes wants me want to Barf-O.

Her adorable cute-ness got to be bothersome around the time I first watched "$40 a day" (she eats out three meals a day for less than $40). She cheerfully showed her receipts, and I realized that unlike Al Gore's wife, she's not a tipper.

As an ex-waitress, I had a problem with that. I decided she bugged me. No biggie, right? Sure, she has all those cookbooks, but I don't have to cook. She has all those TV shows, but I don't have to watch.

But now she's on my Triscuits. And I have to eat.

I froze when I first noticed Rachael Ray grinning at me from my box of Triscuits.

"NO!" I screamed.

(I didn't actually scream, but it makes a good line in this story).

She was on the back of the box, offering "recipe ideas."

Excuse me, I thought. I don't need recipe ideas for my Triscuits. I'm not interested in putting things like scallions, turkey and cranberries on my Triscuits. I think Triscuits are "Yum-O" right out of the box. If I want to go the extra mile, I add some cheese.

Now they put Rachael Ray on the box, so the cheese has already been added.

Football moves

I recently went to the Apple Cup - the annual football game between the Washington Huskies (the bad guys) and the Washington State Cougars (the good guys. And my alma mater).

I'm not a football fan, but it's fun to cheer for my team when they play in Seattle. That's only every two years, so I tend to forget all those football moves in-between. Blocking, faking and tackling are the most important, because once I get to the stadium, I need them to get to my seat.

At this year's Apple Cup, I couldn't believe how many people there were, and Husky Stadium was filled to over-flowing capacity. I fought my way through the crowd, climbing the ramp to the stands. I saw a tiny opening that I was supposed to wedge myself into. Sitting down required more cramming than my college exams.

The next several hours were uncomfortable, to say the least. The good news: the Cougars won. It was an exciting victory, especially since we were the underdogs. I wanted to jump for joy, but I was stuck.

I sat in my seat, cheered for our Quarterback and cursed my Tight End.

Holiday Weight Gain

(Originally posted after Thanksgiving)

Thanksgiving begins the season of the WEIGHT GAIN. On Thanksgiving morning, I noticed it right away: overnight, there had been a 300% gain in the weight of our newspaper.

I picked it up, and it had been stuffed like a turkey. Only it was crammed with ads. "Sales start at midnight on Thanksgiving night!"

If you ask me, that's nuttier than a piece of Pecan Pie.

Supposedly there's a chemical in turkey that makes you sleepy. And on Thanksgiving I ate a lot of turkey. But I think I was more tired from carrying that newspaper.

Free Turkey

(Originally posted before Thanksgiving)

If you've seen a newspaper in the last few weeks, you've read the same thing I have. Printed in large, bold letters are the words, "FREE TURKEY."

No, the Turkish citizens aren't being held prisoner and in need of emancipation. The words "Free Turkey" are supposed to make you think you'll save money on the price of your Thanksgiving dinner. Grocery stores want to give you a FREE Thanksgiving bird! All you have to do is buy all the other ingredients for your meal, at regular prices. Meaning the "savings" are fake.

You'd have to be dumber than a turkey to fall for this.

I fall for this. Every year I load up my grocery cart with the 8,000 items required to prepare Thanksgiving dinner. Then, like the Maraschino cherry on a giant ice cream Sundae, I carefully balance my FREE 20-pound "Tom" on top of the heap.

I strain to push my overloaded cart toward the checkout to see how much I've saved. That's where I find out my bill equals the Gross National Product of a country the size of, say, Turkey.

Unless the turkey was born-again, nothing was saved.