So here's my quandry: what shall I do with this here little blog called ByJane? There are great things happening over at MidLifeBloggers, only some of which are apparent right now (yes, that means that there are other great things in the wings). And, true, it has become a more or less fulltime venture. But still, shall I just abandon ByJane? I've been dithering and cogitating about that for some time now. At first I thought: yes. Then I thought: no. And then I thought: is there a middle way?
I think there is, and this is it. I'm going to post on ByJane, mostly short stuff, and cross-post it on MidLifeBloggers. It won't be a Headliner--unless, that is, I find something of unusual note to say--but it will have its own little area on the main page. I'm going to call it--are you ready for this--ByJane. Creative, no? Thus, those of you who consider yourselves too young for MidLifeBloggers don't have to forego my wit and wisdom. And I still have venue for dispensing my pearls, rather than casting them (over my left shoulder) to the swine.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
A No-Calorie Cupcake, that's actually good for you
I want you to close your eyes, sit back and go to that place in your mind where all is well with the world.
There?
Yet?
Okay, now I want you to imagine in front of you a red devil's food cupcake. It's moist and chocolatey and red (but not in a way that will stain your teeth, tongue, or fingers). The frosting is a pillowy dollop of marshmallow cream with the sweetest little curl at the top. Can't you just imagine burrowing your tongue into the cream? Can't you just imagine the frosting melting in your mouth (but not in a way that will add any calories to your daily intake)?
Can you taste it?
Yet?
Okay, that's all that you get for today, but if you want to create your own virtual cupcake AND maybe win an Electrolux Washer and Dryer set, here's the details:
There?
Yet?
Okay, now I want you to imagine in front of you a red devil's food cupcake. It's moist and chocolatey and red (but not in a way that will stain your teeth, tongue, or fingers). The frosting is a pillowy dollop of marshmallow cream with the sweetest little curl at the top. Can't you just imagine burrowing your tongue into the cream? Can't you just imagine the frosting melting in your mouth (but not in a way that will add any calories to your daily intake)?
Can you taste it?
Yet?
Okay, that's all that you get for today, but if you want to create your own virtual cupcake AND maybe win an Electrolux Washer and Dryer set, here's the details:
In the spirit of Valentine's Day, Electrolux has teamed up with one of America's favorite moms, Kelly Ripa, to spread a little love via a charitable social media campaign. On the Electrolux Web site, you can create and send a unique virtual cupcake to friends and family during February. For every cupcake sent, Electrolux will donate $1 to the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund (OCRF) as part of their half million dollar commitment to help support this worthy cause. Which means each virtual cupcake will go a long way.
What's more, everyone who logs on and sends a cupcake will be entered for a chance to win the newest front-load Washer & Dryer (an estimated $3,600 value) from Electrolux, the appliance brand used throughout fine homes in Europe for 80 years.Tell 'em Kelly sent you--and Jane, courtesy of MomCentral.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah blah blah!
Yeah, I know I have been MIA not to mention absent from my blog and not publishing a word's worth of wit (whatever that means!) on ByJane. So sue me...
Maybe four years is long enough to run a blog?
Maybe I'm more engaged with MidLifeBloggers.
Maybe I'm tired of using my life, my every itch and inkling, as fodder for blogging.
Whatever--deal with it. Or not. As you please.
(All 25 of you...)
Maybe four years is long enough to run a blog?
Maybe I'm more engaged with MidLifeBloggers.
Maybe I'm tired of using my life, my every itch and inkling, as fodder for blogging.
Whatever--deal with it. Or not. As you please.
(All 25 of you...)
Monday, February 09, 2009
Why I Will Never Weigh Less
This should be subtitled: Ya Want Me Thin or Ya Want Me Happy?
I have just come back from a Sugar Run. This is when I get in my car and go! anywhere! there's! sweetstuff! I knew I had to do this when I read an email about MidLifeBloggers and didn't give a shit that I didn't care at all to find out what the sender was talking about. "Hold all discussion about logo colors. I have to get a cupcake."
But first, Molly and I had to get her some food. That dog is going to eat me out of house and home, as my mother used to say (and I didn't understand what it meant then either, hello Chris Martin).
But first I had to go to Michael's to get me a gem or two to fiddle with. And in Michael's, I met with a Very Large Woman who was insidiously insistent on jumping the queue. When I called her on it the first time, she got all humble "Sorry sorry sorry..." she said in what I think was a West Indian accent. And then she preceded to sprint for the next open cash register. Do I have to describe to you my wrath and chagrin and how I arrived at the cash register just a beat after she did and waved my goods over her head for the clerk to take. But the clerk was cowering and yelling for help and obviously wasn't going to Do The Right Thing And Instill Public Decorum. So I flung myself over to the next cash register and stopped myself from hissing a multitude of Ugly American comments.
Still seething, I got into my car, turned the key in the ignition, and--nada. So I jumped out, put Molly on a leash and we walked WALKED all the way down to the pet store. She was hyper as hell which manifests itself as Whirling Dervish act. This, as you might imagine, did not help my mood. I dragged her around the store--actually, she dragged me, more or less--and finally we WALKED all the way back to where the car was parked.
And it still wouldn't start.
So I called D, because when my car won't start I like to remind him that it's his fault I bought it. He told me to call AAA. I called AAA and the operator was just tellling me that there were no tow trucks available but he'd put an order in--. And my car started. Just like that. Obviously some sympatico thing between the AAA vibes and--whatever.
I drove straight to Starbucks because I was lusting after a cupcake. But when I got there, they had those Almond Pecan Cookie things that I'm addicted to. What To Do? What To Do? What To Do?
It was a tough afternoon, guys, so I bought both cupcake and cookie.
There is now a smile on my face (and a crumb on my chest...).
I have just come back from a Sugar Run. This is when I get in my car and go! anywhere! there's! sweetstuff! I knew I had to do this when I read an email about MidLifeBloggers and didn't give a shit that I didn't care at all to find out what the sender was talking about. "Hold all discussion about logo colors. I have to get a cupcake."
But first, Molly and I had to get her some food. That dog is going to eat me out of house and home, as my mother used to say (and I didn't understand what it meant then either, hello Chris Martin).
But first I had to go to Michael's to get me a gem or two to fiddle with. And in Michael's, I met with a Very Large Woman who was insidiously insistent on jumping the queue. When I called her on it the first time, she got all humble "Sorry sorry sorry..." she said in what I think was a West Indian accent. And then she preceded to sprint for the next open cash register. Do I have to describe to you my wrath and chagrin and how I arrived at the cash register just a beat after she did and waved my goods over her head for the clerk to take. But the clerk was cowering and yelling for help and obviously wasn't going to Do The Right Thing And Instill Public Decorum. So I flung myself over to the next cash register and stopped myself from hissing a multitude of Ugly American comments.
Still seething, I got into my car, turned the key in the ignition, and--nada. So I jumped out, put Molly on a leash and we walked WALKED all the way down to the pet store. She was hyper as hell which manifests itself as Whirling Dervish act. This, as you might imagine, did not help my mood. I dragged her around the store--actually, she dragged me, more or less--and finally we WALKED all the way back to where the car was parked.
And it still wouldn't start.
So I called D, because when my car won't start I like to remind him that it's his fault I bought it. He told me to call AAA. I called AAA and the operator was just tellling me that there were no tow trucks available but he'd put an order in--. And my car started. Just like that. Obviously some sympatico thing between the AAA vibes and--whatever.
I drove straight to Starbucks because I was lusting after a cupcake. But when I got there, they had those Almond Pecan Cookie things that I'm addicted to. What To Do? What To Do? What To Do?
It was a tough afternoon, guys, so I bought both cupcake and cookie.
There is now a smile on my face (and a crumb on my chest...).
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Another Account of Cleaning Woes and Wonders
I do not have to tell you again that I will do anything to avoid cleaning. Do I? Do I? No, I thought not. So when I tell you that I have found something that helps me achieve that end, you must believe me. But if you don't, I'm humble enough to offer photographic evidence. To wit, Exhibit One: my stove top in its natural state
Am I embarrassed at the schmutz (not to mention spaghetti sauce) that sullies this fine stove? Clearly I am not the woman who wipes up after every spill--or even every day. Yes, I'm embarrassed, but I'm shaming myself for your benefit. Normally in such a state, I would soak the racks in soapy water and scrub the hell out of the cooktop with my bare hands.
But not this time. This time I, thanks to MomCentral, had in hand Green Works Wipes. They are natural, biodegradable cleaning wipes, all of which sounds good, but frankly, I've found the natural stuff in the cleaning department to be a little less than efficacious, if you know what I mean. So I questioned the power of these wipes to do the heavy duty job my housekeeping requires. And now I offer Exhibit Two:
The rag at the bottom of the frame is the single Green Works cleaning wipe that I used. To clean the entire stovetop. All four burners. And the racks.
T'was a miracle, I tell you. I didn't even work up a sweat...or grease my elbow. I merely wiped and the schmutz (and spaghetti sauce) came off, as is evident in Exhibit Three:
Do I recommend these? You bet I do.
Am I embarrassed at the schmutz (not to mention spaghetti sauce) that sullies this fine stove? Clearly I am not the woman who wipes up after every spill--or even every day. Yes, I'm embarrassed, but I'm shaming myself for your benefit. Normally in such a state, I would soak the racks in soapy water and scrub the hell out of the cooktop with my bare hands.But not this time. This time I, thanks to MomCentral, had in hand Green Works Wipes. They are natural, biodegradable cleaning wipes, all of which sounds good, but frankly, I've found the natural stuff in the cleaning department to be a little less than efficacious, if you know what I mean. So I questioned the power of these wipes to do the heavy duty job my housekeeping requires. And now I offer Exhibit Two:
The rag at the bottom of the frame is the single Green Works cleaning wipe that I used. To clean the entire stovetop. All four burners. And the racks.T'was a miracle, I tell you. I didn't even work up a sweat...or grease my elbow. I merely wiped and the schmutz (and spaghetti sauce) came off, as is evident in Exhibit Three:
Do I recommend these? You bet I do.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Day Somethingorother of Jane's Wondrous Training Sessions
Thus far, I have had two training sessions. The first, when I completed the now-famous 18 minute mile, was a week ago. The second was this past Saturday. T'was a three miler. THREE MILES?! WTF!!!!
Here's the awful truth I'm learning about myself: I'm a quitter. When the going gets tough, I'm like out the door licketysplit. In my current [woeful] condition, that happens at about the 10 yard line. Or maybe, the twenty--I never have been good at judging distances. I hit this wall--you've heard of The Wall you hit when you're doing endurance stuff? Well, the wall I hit says, "Waaah, no way...this is hard....I can't...oh woe...." The first week, when it was Just A Mile (!), there were lots of cheerleaders along the route with signs and thumbs up and, jeeze, I couldn't cop out in front of all of them, could I? On Saturday, however, it was just me. Me and the dust kicked up by the herd of my fellow runner/walkers who were way, way, way way way ahead of me. I thought about taking a short cut--who would know?--but I didn't. I didn't because it seems grotesque, not to mention shameful, because, really, who was I cheating but myself? I guess I must have an iota of character left.
When I got home, I checked the training schedule. Oh. We were supposed to be doing these training sessions on our own during the week. Oh.
So today, I laced up my new running shoes (which look like U-boats, I'm afraid) and did another three miles. By myself. Yes, I did. Then I came home and died.....
Here's the awful truth I'm learning about myself: I'm a quitter. When the going gets tough, I'm like out the door licketysplit. In my current [woeful] condition, that happens at about the 10 yard line. Or maybe, the twenty--I never have been good at judging distances. I hit this wall--you've heard of The Wall you hit when you're doing endurance stuff? Well, the wall I hit says, "Waaah, no way...this is hard....I can't...oh woe...." The first week, when it was Just A Mile (!), there were lots of cheerleaders along the route with signs and thumbs up and, jeeze, I couldn't cop out in front of all of them, could I? On Saturday, however, it was just me. Me and the dust kicked up by the herd of my fellow runner/walkers who were way, way, way way way ahead of me. I thought about taking a short cut--who would know?--but I didn't. I didn't because it seems grotesque, not to mention shameful, because, really, who was I cheating but myself? I guess I must have an iota of character left.
When I got home, I checked the training schedule. Oh. We were supposed to be doing these training sessions on our own during the week. Oh.
So today, I laced up my new running shoes (which look like U-boats, I'm afraid) and did another three miles. By myself. Yes, I did. Then I came home and died.....
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