Cake!

Let there be cake!

Ah, were more blessed words ever spoken? There should be cake on every holiday. It was International Women's Day not too long ago and I asked, because I always ask, "Is there cake for that?" And my friend said, "no," but there should be. I mean, Margaret Atwood's book The Edible Woman was all about a woman gaining independence and her sense of self-worth by baking a cake in the shape of herself and eating it. So if there's any holiday that needs a cake, it's that one.

Oh, also? According to The Watery Tart Hart Johnson, yesterday was International Outdoor Intercourse Day. Can you imagine a cake for that? If you're partnerless, it could be a single layer. If you're with your sweetie, it could be a two layer, one chocolate, one vanilla – up to you which one goes on top. And if you have more than one partner, you could have a multi-layered, multi-flavoured cake.... now we're talking!

Yesterday my sweet, wonderful and very weird colleagues surprised me with CAKE because it was my sixth anniversary working for the company. They were SO NICE (love them, love them like butter) and the cake was SO DELICIOUS. It was one of the new cakes from the bakery at Gagnon's Independent in Bracebridge (how I love that store) and it was absolutely fab. The whole thing got demolished in a matter of minutes.

So thank you, lovely lovely people. Big buttercream-covered hugs and sugary kisses to you all!

The photo, which was taken by my colleague, Gail (thanks!), shows a multitude of things: my humongous arms that are bigger than my head (I have the fattest arms in the world. It's true. They're in the Guinness Book of Fat Arm World Records); my calendar from charming, talented Nova Scotia artist and blogger Shelagh Duffett; the Coffee Mate creamer that I don't use anymore because it's fattening (unlike the cake, which doesn't count); my disgusting, empty salad bowl from lunch; Fibre One cereal for bowel-happy snacking; my fan for occasional hot flashes; and my Star Wars award poster for being uber Star Warsy (it was a company awards thingey. I won for creativity – I'm making fun of it but secretly I'm still proud of the whole thing); and finally, the falling-apart arm of my leather chair that my sweetie bought for me when I first started working there... six years ago... wow. Hard to believe.

I'm Alive

Barely.
Everything hurrrrrrrrrrrrts.
This was the best Thanksgiving. The weather was fantastic. I mean, middle of July fantastic, except that the temps got down to zero Celsius at night but the skies were blue and the sun was shiny and the leaves in Algonquin Park were at their most fabulous.
But oh, I am a hurting unit. Three solid days of biking and hiking has jellified these old bones and now I am salivating at the thought of a hot bath and a handful of extra strength Tylenol.
Tomorrow marks the end of my 50th year and I have much to be thankful for as I say good-night to another Thanksgiving Day. A year ago I couldn't have imagined myself biking all over one of the most beautiful places on earth in my baggy-assed sweat-pants, looking for moose and bear, and passing 11-year-olds in a single bound.
I have so much to tell you about but it has to wait, it does. I just wanted to let you know I'm alive and well and looking for the heating pad.
And tomorrow?
Tomorrow I eat cake.

Happy Birthday, Sam!

Sam-I-Am,

That Sam-I-Am.

How I love my Sam-I-Am.

I could eat him up with jam.

Happy Birthday, Sam-I-Am.

No secret, I've been going to Weight Watchers* for seven weeks and one of my biggest supporters is my now-11-year-old son, Sam.

I hadn't seen him for three weeks because his father was on holidays and had the kids with him on the weekends I normally would have had them. (Missed them fierce, by the way.) Sam never forgot that I was on a diet, though, always remembering to ask me, "how much did you lose this week, Mom?"

When I finally saw him on Friday he said, "You even LOOK skinnier."

Fine words, those. Of course I had to milk it. "Oh yeah?" sez I. "Where exactly do I look skinnier?"

He looked me up and down, analyzing, then said, "Your outline is skinnier."

(I got him a really, really good birthday present.)

* There was no meeting here on Monday, which is my WW night, because of the Labour Day holiday so I haven't been weighed for almost two weeks. Except for Sam's birthday cake, a hot dog at the drive-in (that wasn't even very good - does that count?) and a pot luck last Sunday, I have been on plan. I'm hoping for a few more pounds down the drain to make that outline of mine even skinnier.