Loser's Back!

Because I'm an trainer, because I'm an eater, because I'm a sentimental fool...I do love a new season of The Biggest Loser.

Or maybe it's just because I'm a loser.

But last night's was everything I love: tough workouts, serious whining, a new twist on the same ol' excuses (blaming divorce and Hurricane Katrina for your weight gain?) and contestants falling from still-moving machines.

Oh, and lots and lots of crying. So very much crying. But let's be honest; I'd cry too if I were on a 1,200-calorie/day diet.

Anyway, it's an entertaining, very teamwork-oriented season so far and, while I'll probably be fast-fowarding through 90 percent of each episode's fluff, it's always nice to see people get healthy the old fashioned way...through exercise, calorie counting, and a gazillion-dollar production budget (did the trainers really have to arrive by individual helicopters?!).

Back here at our ranch, we've had our own diet and exercise drama. I've hurt my back, possibly from overdoing it, but more likely from underdoing back exercises.

So I looked very much the part of an "oh, my baaaack!" old woman in Ben's lunchroom on Monday. I had no idea the strength required to be a lunch lady, hauling 100 lbs. of coleslaw to be distributed in 1/4 cup servings. 

Ben got a kick out of having us there though, possibly just to help open his banana; Roman walked the aisles flirting with the older ladies (the women of K-8); and I just can't get enough of the uniformed, please-and-thank-you'ing kids. 

Then, as I smothered Ben with kisses (he'll still allow it, so you bet I'll do it!) his friend Braden asked, "Are you Ben's mom?" Well, I should hope so.

I'll be back at it next week to dish up another delicacy ("taco burger" says the menu. Did I miss a merger?). In the meantime, I need to get back into lunch lady shape, so I'm off to fix my back the old fashioned way: stretching, Advil, whining and wine-ing.

Weather 180

Wichita, please accept my sincerest apologies for bitching about the weather for 90 straight days.

Okay, make that five straight years.

After staying north of 100 degrees since the snow melted, you've redeemed yourself with this week's heavenly 80-degree highs and light wind. 

For myself, it means a 180-degree attitude adjustment. (And new conversation topics, thank heavens.) More importantly, we are once again an active, happy family with fresh air breezing through the house, despite Anthony's fear that lead paint chips will blow from the windowsills and fall into the kids' cereal bowls.

We can be outdoors long enough  to watch a soccer game...

...and run our hands through the breeze without fear of heat combustion. (That's Romy's hand on the way home from the park.)

So, dear Wichita weather, please stay as long as you'd like. It makes a girl feel right at home.

Don'cha Know?!

"Are you from Minnesota? Or Canada?" I was asked yesterday.

Eh?

The asker: an otherwise quiet Kenyan man who takes my 5:30 a.m. class twice a week. And all I could do was respond with my own questions:

• Do I seem kind enough to be from Minnesota? Because I am not.
• Do I tolerate extreme cold like the Canadians? Ask me in February.
• Do I elongate my Os and lose the ends of words? No-o-o weh.

The culprit, I think, is one of two things: I'm at a loss for words when coaching exercisers at oh-five-thirty ("Go-o-o!" Pause. "Go-o-o!") or, more likely: my California accent is colliding with my Wichita one.

Now, I hold firm that Californians don't really have accents (Valley excepted, of course, but that's a caricature. And all teenagers totally sound like that, BTW.) Indeed, don't Californians have the intonation and cadence that newscasters strive for? If anything, we might be a little free-flowing with slang and, perhaps, a little relaxed.

Wichita, on the other hand, has the most indistinguishable - and incredibly wide-ranging - version of an accent. Sometimes it's just a "y'all" peppered into a conversation. No biggie. Warm and inclusive, actually. But in its most extreme form, it's like a slow, mumbled Texas-light.

Has my relaxed Californian mixed with mumbled Texan to give me never-ending vowels?

Eh, since a lot of Wichitans sound just like me, maybe I just need to have one more 5 a.m. cup of coffee to keep my words nimble. And varied, for that matter. 

Either way, I'll keep ya posted. Here's to a relaxing three-day'er ahead.

P.S. Speaking of relaxing, Roman found a great use for my resistance band today. Better here than around my legs, no?!