Those Weight-Loss Ads on Facebook

I’m getting tired of all the weight loss ads in my Facebook news feed.

Have you seen these?

“What Body Shape are you?”

Hmm… Is Jabba the Hutt one of the shapes? I don’t think you people are representing ALL the body types.

“The five vegetables that will make you gain weight.”

Okay I don’t know about other folks, but in my case it ain’t veggies causing my weight gain. Unless you count cake as a vegetable. Well, it isn’t meat, right?

“Dr. Oz…” pretty much anything.

I can’t stand that guy. Stop smirking at me Dr. Oz!! We know you hold us all in everlasting contempt.

“Which do you prefer?”

This is another version of the “body type” idea but it’s even more annoying than the apple/pear one. Again, where is Jabba?

Now THAT’s a realistic body type…

Zumba tried to kill me. (But my family didn’t help much either.)

So I went to my first ever Zumba class yesterday.

I know, I know. I’m behind the times. Zumba has been popular for the last 10-15 years. But I am slow.

A fact that was driven home to me most forcefully during a high-energy exercise class with about fifty women in a mirrored room. I looked at my scared, stumbling, red-faced reflection and thought, Girl, you are SLOW.

But it’s okay. A kind Amazon woman next to me helped as much as she could, calling out LEFT! and RIGHT! and TURN!!!! I know she was thinking , This sad slow white girl is gonna die right beside me.

(By the way, I use the term Amazon in the most complimentary way possible. This lady was over six feet tall: dreadlocked, bejewled and gorgeous.)

When we finally got to the cool-down phase my Amazonian friend said, “You made it!” I think she was almost as  surprised as I was.

I took a picture outside the gym, and in my addled-by-exhaustion state, I posted it to facebook. This may be the most unflattering selfie ever, but it’s gotten more “likes” than any other picture I’ve posted.


When I got home, all I wanted to do was take a shower and lie down. But of course, it didn’t work out that way.

As soon as I walked in from the garage, I saw my husband’s work pants sitting on top of the washing machine. (Code for, “I need these pants washed by tomorrow.”)  

Slowly I moved clean clothes from the dryer to the basket, wet clothes from the washer to the dryer, and put the pants in the washer along with any other dirty things lying around on the laundry room floor. My muscles groaned every time I bent over. I threw in soap and switched on both machines.

I shuffled out of the laundry room. I wanted to go straight up to my room. But I looked at the living room. Dirty dishes covered the coffee table. (I knew this was code for, “No one has done anything in the kitchen all night except eat and make a mess.”)

So I forced my legs to walk. I collected all the plates and took them to the sink. Unsurprised, I surveyed the leftover food (which I’d cooked before I left) spread all over the counter. Slowly, slowly, I bent to get out the tupperware and put everything away.

One of the twins yelled from upstairs, “Mommy! Are you home? Mommy!?” 

I stowed the food in the fridge and stacked the dishes in the sink. The other twin began yelling for me as well.  I started crawling up the stairs to put the twins to bed.

Now, let me point out that their father was with them. He made sure they’d had their baths and were ready for bed. But apparently, as soon as Mommy enters the area, Daddy is absolved of all kid responsibility by their mutual agreement. Even when Mommy feels on the brink of death.

After the twins were finally in bed, I told my husband that I was going to take a shower and then lie on my bed and die.

GG poked her head out of her room. “Before you die, Mom,” she said. “Can you make my bed up?”

It is amazing, the sympathy these people have for me.

A Cautionary Tale

I was at Victoria’s Secret getting my teenage daughters some bras and underwear.

(They were quite modest ones. Really.)

The twins were running around like crazy people, climbing under the display tables, jumping off pretty padded benches, and screaming “UNDIES!!” at the tops of their lungs.

I looked around at all the beautiful airbrushed photos of models, and the racks filled with lovely silky things, and the mannequins dressed n perfectly matched sets of underclothing.

Then I looked at the twins. One was in danger of pulling over a rack on top of himself. The other was shrieking, probably tattling on her brother in decibels too shrill to be understood by human ears.

I thought to myself:

This is where all that sexy underwear gets you, folks. WATCH OUT!

Life Hacks?

Have you seen those “Life Hacks” on pinterest? They give you weird and interesting advice that may or may not work.

Some of them are useful, but many seem to me to be COMPLETELY made up.

Here are some examples of the ones I suspect are fabricated:

Stand out and use blue ink hack

1000 Life Hacks. Doubt it, but pinning it anyways :)

Life Hack #266

Um… exactly how am I supposed to test these? And do I really care?

Here’s one that I actually did test:



The hardest step on this one was finding a vending machine with numbers you could actually press. But I did try it.

Did it work? No.

Did I look like an idiot pressing random numbers while the machine flashed INSERT COIN INSERT COIN INSERT COIN at me? Oh yes indeed.

But I proved that Life Hack was made up!!

Now, I just have to remember to start playing Tetris after my next traumatic event…

My dishwasher has been disabled by ants

Recently I noticed an invasion of ants in my dishwasher.

I’ve never seen this before. I thought dishwashers were supposed to be clean!

I called an exterminator. He seemed unsurprised. He said dishwasher are a great place for ants to hang out, full of water and tiny bits of food. Ew.


He set up poison baits inside the dishwasher and told me not to use it for a few days. Hopefully that will kill the ants and stop them from coming back.

But in the meantime, the dishes must be washed by hand.

IMG_0423By which of course, I mean that *I* have to wash the dishes by hand. No one else is likely to touch them.

I don’t even know why I put the “do not use sign” on the dishwasher since I’m the only one that ever opens the thing.

Well, me and the ants…

How’s the weather in Hawaii?

The short answer: It’s always almost exactly the same. Every day. All year.

In fact, here’s the weather chart from the preschool at church:


As you can see, we have TWO weather choices here: Rainy and Sunny.

I seem to remember from my own preschool/kindergarten days that our weather chart was an entire WHEEL with all four seasons and many choices.

But here in paradise, every day it’s about 75 degrees, sunny with a chance of rain.

It’s awesome for everyone!

… except the weatherman, who is REALLY bored.