Weighing on my mind

Back in January, I dashed off a quick, naive blog entry entitled Don't call me "Ace". As I assume you don't hang on every comma added to this blog, or have found that the rambling can get a bit l e n g t h y, or a bit sporadically posted and missed this post, I've hyperlinked for easy access. Now you can see for yourself how far I've fallen. Really, I reasoned, ten pounds by March 14th was just TOO easy. And, really, it should have been. (If you're uncertain about the outcome of this challenge, please note the unsubtle foreshadowing in the previous sentence.)

I quickly dropped 5 pounds in the first 8 or 9 days, just by planning out meals, avoiding ice cream and detouring around any tempting drive-thrus. All that really did was fill with an insane amount of smugness. A procrastinator by nature, I've found that sometimes promising beginning results like this can be more of a setback than a help.

Soon enough, though, it was March 7th and I found that--due to complete slacker-ness in terms of indulgent foods, and the fact that I had never really even started an exercise regiment--I had actually gained a pound and now had about 6 1/2 pounds to lose in one week! Being an avid watcher of The Biggest Loser, however, filled me with all sorts of false confidence about that goal.

I started applying myself (belatedly) on Monday, March 9th. Making the transformation from lounging couch potato to twice-a-day gym rat was surprisingly easy. Plus, I was given extra time at my disposal due to the fact that it was Spring Break!
Monday: Stupidly picked on a freshman athlete in my ward to play racquetball with--she kicked my butt.
Tuesday: Enjoyed watching House while trotting along on the treadmill. Courageously abstained from proffered ice cream at a friend's home.
Wednesday: Hmmm . . . still not quite dropping like I hoped. Added strength training. Played racquetball with nieces. 15-year-old's crush showed up at gym--coincidence? I think not.
Thursday: Started to panic. Couldn't decide when or if to ease up on drinking water. Necessity of life? or Threat to Hawaii trip?
Friday: Debated various cheats to aid my quest--mythical "water pill", ExLax, etc. Friend Tracy said "Too extreme. Then you'd be Anorexic." But only for one day, right? Alas, no pharmaceuticals for me. Only made it to the gym once (8 hours at B&N + book club means I enjoyed the gym delights at midnight)! Sat in sauna with other strangely mute people. Weird older woman reading magazines au natural. Averted eyes. Uncomfortable. Fled after 10 minutes.
Saturday: Ate meagerly, made it to the gym twice, sauna twice. Finally approached the hockey game at 8:30pm, hoping for kind scales. Nope. Missed by 2 1/2 lbs. Went to Wendy's. Ordered chicken nuggets, fries and a frosty. Yum!

rahniREADS (February '09)

Remember hearing about the way to catch a raccoon? Put something it wants through an opening that's just big enough to fit his hand through. He'll close his fist around his treasure and then not be able to escape back through whence he came. He could easily let go of his newly-acquired possession and escape, but he can't bring himself to release his grasp.

I'm like that. I don't like to borrow, I like to OWN. Libraries hate me--I read the books speedily enough, but always have problems returning on time, thus racking up fines, thus increasing our mutual resentment towards each other. Or, at least, my resentment towards the library. I have only a few exceptions to the "owning" fixation--I don't like to buy hardback fiction (even if found in the Bargain section of the bookstore, even if it costs more to buy the same book in paperback--hardback is for nonfiction), and I don't like to buy a book if I plan to never read it again or to never pass it on to anybody else. I own the greater majority of the books I've placed on the rahniREADS lists (such is the fallout of working at a bookstore and getting a discount), but I've borrowed a few as well (my school library doesn't charge fines--plus, I can change the due date when I run tardy.) I own ten of the books from this particular list, borrowed two from B&N (we're allowed to "borrow" hardback books for two weeks, one at a time, if we keep them in saleable (sellable?) condition), and borrowed The Swallows of Kabul from my library. Just in case you were wondering . . .
Uncle Tom's Cabin - Harriet Beecher Stowe (postponed)
~Don't know yet, haven't finished, doomed~

I listed this book in both January and February, but it doesn't really belong in this post. Why not? Because I haven't gotten beyond page 80 yet. In fact, February's contact mainly consisted of the strong belief that the book was hiding somewhere in the depths of Erv's messy back seat. Our Book Club was canceled in February, thus I lost my driving reason to read this classic. I'll revisit Uncle Tom, but I'm setting it aside for now.

Every Second Counts - Lance Armstrong and Sally Jenkins ****

~Post-cancer, new perspective, unparalleled ambition~

Reminds me of the Banff Film Festival--awe at what these daredevils/athletes have driven themselves to accomplish through such enviable talent or sometimes just on raw determination, but also a recognition that that kind of myopic drive can lead to a very unbalanced life. Also, it can make you a hard person to become attached to. But, overall, a fabulous book. Warning! Can cause reader to become introspective and fill said reader with renewed desire to implement vigorous exercise into daily routine.

The Swallows of Kabul - Yasmina Khadra **

~Taliban sucks joy, meaning out of life~

I don't require my books to be happy, happy, joy, joy--I just want them to make me feel like I wasn't better off having spent that time doing laundry. At least it was a quick read. I much preferred The Kite Runner, or The Breadwinner for time spent reading about Afghanistan--both superb books.

The Double Bind - Chris Bohjalian ***

~If "The Great Gatsby" wasn't fiction~

I feel like the fates are trying to tell me to reread an old high school required text--first through this book, then so many Gatsby references I can't even count--on television, at B&N, through conversations with others. All the time, everywhere Gatsby, Gatsby, Gatsby. Maybe it'll be better upon a second, nonrequired go-around, much like I discovered Heart of Darkness to be.

Three Willows - Ann Brashares ***

~Girls grow up, childhood bond falters~

This novel rounded out a very nose-in-a-book weekend. From Kurt Vonnegut's trippiness to Card's wordy SciFi, to Brashares' Young Reader fiction--I experienced a little jet lag from all the genre-switching turbulance. Relatable read--who among us hasn't grown apart from a friend--pleasant enough for an afternoon couch shlump.

Ender in Exile - Orson Scott Card ***1/2

~Ender matures en route to exile~

A big fan of the Ender series (original rather than Shadow), I was always a little sad that Ender spent three of the four books in the original Ender's Game series as an adult, with no real bridge from his book one adolescence. Not a whole lot of action, but a great whatever happened book. I've always liked Ender better than Bean, and this book only strengthened that opinion. This book seems like it should be numbered 1.5, but it shouldn't be read until after you've completed the series. Best, actually, if read after the Shadow series as well.

Slaughterhouse Five - Kurt Vonnegut **

~WWII, tripping through time with aliens~

"So it goes." Oh my word, was that sentence endlessly repeated. I felt stuck in a Billy Joel song that lasted for 224 pages, but without any piano to keep me entertained. So it went. All Quiet on the Western Front exceeds as a commentary on war, and Catch-22 was definitely a better satire on war. Read one of those instead.

Recovering Charles - Jason Wright **1/2

~Bitter son finds drunk father, post-Katrina~

February's Book Club book. Good topics to ponder, the twist at the end redeemed some of the writing and plot, but too little, too late. We had an excellent discussion, though. I've learned you don't need to be a fan of the chosen book in order to have a good meeting!

Peter and the Secret of Rundoon - Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson ****

~Trilogy concludes, Starcatchers triumph, Peter alone~

With a collaboration as humorous and lively as has emerged from this pairing, Barry and Pearson had better continue to team up--I want more!

Peter and the Shadow Thieves - Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson****1/2

~From Neverland to London, adventures abound!~
The best book of the trilogy. Peter journeys to London to save Molly and the rest of the Starcatchers from a sinister threat.

Shakespeare Wrote for Money - Nick Hornby ****

~Brit soccer fan's essays on reading~

A follow-up of The Polysyllabic Spree and Housekeeping vs. the Dirt, another volume that chronicles the author's entertaining articles found in The Believer magazine. Being British, he's got a fabulous vocabulary and a dry sense of humor. He begins each column with a list of books he's purchased during the month and a list of the books he actually read. They're rarely the same all the way through. This little paragraph doesn't reflect it, but Such Good Times!

On Stories - C. S. Lewis ***1/2

~Narnian shares thoughts on literature, reading~

One of my favorite lines (found in an essay on J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit): "Prediction is dangerous: but The Hobbit may well prove a classic." Some essays were a delight to read, others a bit ponderous, most were thoughtful and entertaining.

Walden - Henry David Thoreau (see Uncle Tom's Cabin)

~Good sentences, pompous man, not finished~

I started reading this oft-quoted but little-read classic to record as a Christmas gift for my niece, Madison. Well, at least one overly-ambitious intended present is bound to fall through the cracks, right? Turns out that her English class was only reading excerpts. Not from any of the sections I had read, though, unfortunately. I'm tabling this one until later.

A reminder of the star system. Or, to be more precise, an "asterisk" system. Here's how it goes:

***** READ IT RIGHT NOW!

**** Would definitely pass it on to others--highly recommended

*** Better than most

** If you're stuck on a desert island and cloud-watching isn't your thing

* BURN in fire if you're stuck on a desert island (even if it's a hot, tropical island)

Daze of Thunder

So I was changing shoes today while driving--seriously, if a cop ever followed me around, I'd be toast with my random multi-tasking commutes--and I can finally, finally say that I can now relate (in the most sliver-of-a-relatable-way) to NASCAR drivers. In the past, NASCAR and I haven't been on the same page. In the same book. Contracted by the same publisher. If I were a book . . . hmmm, what kind of book would I be? So many different styles, genres, fonts . . . whoops--back on track! If I were a book, I would be located as far as possible in the Dewey Decimal system away from the auto racing genre. (I think that analogy just answered what kind of literary tome I'd be--located in the geek section, that's what.)

Anyhow, the stoplight's frantic indecision between red and green only allowed for one shoe change. Right foot--Converse, left foot--Dansko. I marveled at the difference between the feel of my two shoes on the pedals. I felt at one with the gas pedal, alert to Erv's every surge and whim, while my left foot observed from afar--a bit removed from the situation, employing the clutch obediently when the need arose. I can see the benefits of both shoes, though. Sometimes you don't want to be so connected to your car. On long roadtrips, for instance, when you prefer a little distance. After all, your car is traveling hundreds of miles to save your feet from that same task. However, if racing a diabolically-grinning twin home from work . . . that is when the more supple shoe excels.

Shoe tangent #1
In a previous life (a.k.a. before this driving incident) I SCOFFED at the idea of a driving shoe. Let me tell you, nothing persuades even the most reluctant shopper to hit the racks like thumbing through the book The One Hundred, by Nina Garcia. From advice about fishnets (it's a fine like between fierce and floozy) to the classic LBD to anything you can think to adorn yourself with, this book has enticing recommendations coupled with pithy anecdotes--a winner! I was pretty much simpatico with most of their observations until I hit the entry for "driving shoes." Seriously, what decade was that entry written in? Whilst driving to summer in the Hamptons in the 40's? I may have to review that paragraph again.

Shoe tangent #2
Mismatched shoes are not an unknown phenomenon in my universe. One of my favorite runs is a quick five-miler that starts on the Hillside at Goldenview Middle School and ends at Robin's house. It's a palatable combination of downhills and flats, with just a few baby uphills to climb. One day, anxious to get going (my life doesn't lend itself generously to unscheduled time), I locked my car, pocketed the key, started my iPod and hightailed it out of the parking lot. Not more than two blocks away from Erv, I was startled to realize that while my shoes were the same brand, they were not the same model. Or should I have said "style"? I'll have to consult my FamousFootwearSalesgirlInAnotherLife sister about this and see if I have to revise my thinking. Bygones.

Should I have turned back? Probably. Did I? Of course not. There's just something so inherently wrong about traveling in the reverse direction of your ultimate destination. I chose to "silver lining" it and view it as an opportunity to get a good, side-by-side comparison of my accidental footwear of choice. You would think that one would emerge the obvious victor, but once again, my non-powers of observation failed me. I alternated running along, forgetting to compare with freaking out and overanalyzing each stride. It flabbergasted me, I tell you.

Another one bites the dust . . .

I spent many hours on Tuesday attending a mandatory First Aid Certification class. Every two years the Anchorage School District makes sure (presumably) that all of its employees are crisis-savvy. Lest you think you can just collapse at my feet with full confidence, however, LET ME DISSUADE YOU of that foolhardy notion. Basically, until you stop breathing, I am of no use to you. Other than calling an ambulance, that is. Which is actually quite helpful! Well, it's not nothing. Once you're unresponsive, though, I can kick it into gear!

Earlier in this season, an episode of The Office featured the Dunder-Mifflin employees learning all about CPR. The trainer gave them some helpful advice about how to maintain a 100 beats per minute tempo by humming a song. Heck if I remembered the song, though. Which could lead to some unfortunate consequences if I'm bopping along to Phil Collins' ballad Groovy Kind of Love and it's supposed to be something hyper like Footloose's Holding Out for a Hero. I was leaning towards the Bee Gee's Stayin' Alive. So I queried people around me in line as we waited to sign in to the course. Unluckily for my gnawing curiosity, however, the only Office fans around me had missed that particular life-saving episode, but boy was everyone interested. After repeated requests, I swore that I would send out a district-wide email about the subject when I checked my TiVo. Fortunately, the course instructor later told us that we could choose Queen's Another One Bites the Dust, or the more positive Stayin' Alive. I was right. ;o) And now I don't won't have the majority of the ASD workers checking their inboxes and wondering, "Who's this Rahni character and why does she think I'm into the Bee Gees?"

Tick, Tick, Boom

My lack of dancing skills ruined my sandwich for lunch today. I'm telling you, if I had just mastered the Running Man during my youth, my meal would be intact. Let's backtrack . . .

Last winter I found myself housesitting in the very south end of Anchorage, eagerly taking advantage of the various movie channels offered by GCI Cable. Unfortunately, it was about 1AM, and the only non-porn-ish option seemed to be the teen dancing "drama" Step Up. At one point, a character says to a young protege, "Well, you know how to do the Running Man, right?" The young boy nodded as if thinking, What a stupid question, while I mournfully shook my head, No. Spurred into action (at least a decade too late), I perused the Web for an instructional video, found one, and soon found myself testing out 90's (80's?) dance moves in front of a very tired and puzzled dog. Come morning, however, I retired my MC Hammer-like ambitions.

Until today. I was making a peanut butter sandwich after an exhausting morning of racquetball (15-year-old athletes can kick my butt, I'm telling you) and found myself with crystallized honey. I stuck the little plastic bear in the microwave, despite its cute little pleading face, and pressed "10" for ten seconds. Well, I forgot that when you press "1" that it automatically express cooks it for 1 minute. My iPod was blasting Tick, Tick, Boom by The Hives, so after only a moment or two, the random thought occurred to me, I wonder if I can still do the Running Man?

I discovered two things. One--the answer to my question (not very well), and two--don't microwave little innocent bears for a full minute. They melt.

Cooking for Dummies, Idiots and the Stubbornly Ignorant

Egg nog ~ Egg-beater ~ Bad egg ~ Eggshell ~ Eggplant

I don't eat eggs. Not scrambled, not hard-boiled, not over-easy, not sunny-side up. Definitely not green eggs. (Or ham, for that matter, except if pressured at Thanksgiving dinners in Idaho--Paul, my taste buds still feel betrayed!) In college, my eager roommates and I loved diving into homemade cookie dough, despite the dire salmonella warnings issued by one and all. My integrity was often tested by my most "germ-suspicious" roommate.

Donia: Ooooo, cookie dough! (Pauses) Rahni, did you wash the eggs before you cracked them?

Rahni: Um . . . yes.

Of course I lied! I wanted her to enjoy the dough with the rest of us--I was just thinking of her happiness! Perhaps not of her health, but I was confident that at least her taste buds would be grateful.

But I digress . . . the dogs I'm pet-sitting for right now LOVE eggs. They quite enjoy it when I add them to their Puppy Chow. That, or I'm just not feeding them enough and they're just ecstatic that there's food in their dishes. Actually, though, I have a far stronger reputation for fattening animals than helping them stick to diets. Anyhow--I ran out of pre-boiled eggs the owners left in the fridge. Luckily, though, there were plenty of uncooked eggs in the fridge just waiting to hit the water. Realizing that I had no idea how long to boil eggs, however, I called lots of people for advice. As is often the case with first pancakes, I recommend throwing out first responses to such inquiries as well. For example--I first called Amber with my dilemma:

Amber: Ask Mom.

Rahni: Well, but I'm on the phone with you. You eat eggs, right?

After much deliberation, some witty back-and-forth . . .

Amber: I'm fairly certain--2 minutes.

I was more than fairly certain she was wrong, but politely thanked her and dialed again. Soon, I was swimming in advice about boiling times, water coverage, starting in cold water or hot, and all manner of endless ovoid trivia. Then I got steered towards the "proper" way to cook eggs.

According to Cooking Basics for Dummies . . .

Eggs should never be hard-boiled (in their shells), but rather hard-cooked. Rigorous boiling causes eggs to jostle and crack, leaving the whites tough. The correct technique is to place the eggs in cold water, bring the water to a boil, and then immediately remove the pot from the heat, as in the following steps.

1. Place the eggs in a saucepan large enough to hold them in a single layer. Add cold water to cover by about 1 inch.

2. Cover the saucepan and bring the water to a boil over high heat as fast as possible. Then turn off the heat. If your stove is electric, remove the pan from the burner.

3. Let eggs stand in the pan, still covered, for 15 minutes for large eggs, 18 minutes for jumbo, and 12 minutes for medium.

4. Drain the eggs in a colander and run cold water over them until completely cooled.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, but is this like how everyone on earth (except my mom) says penalize instead of the proper pronunciation of peenalize? There's no way I'm waiting that long to cook eggs for dogs. I don't even have the patience to bake potatoes in the oven for myself. (BTW--Rahni's Recipe for Potato Success: Stab, 4 minutes in the microwave, turn over, 4 more minutes, dispose of nutrient-rich peel, sprinkle with salt and pepper, serve!) They even have a 3-step process spelled out for peeling an egg! Congrats to everyone who advised 10 minutes--the dogs aren't complaining!