SAA Ep. # 21: Birthday Adventures

I just finished up another birthday. Number 31. Now I'm thirty-something; not just plain ol' 30 anymore. Yeah...birthdays (and Birthday Eves) are awesome, but for me, they are more opportunities for socially awkward adventures.

My first adventure happened on Birthday Eve (AKA St. Patrick's Day). My friend Desiree has an actual BIRTHDAY on my Birthday Eve, and I decided to get her some donuts--but not just any donuts. Krispy Kremes. You remember...the ONE DONUT TO RULE THEM ALL, the Donut of Power!

So, I woke up extra early that morning and traveled far into Mordor--I mean, the Krispy Kreme shop--hoping to snag a donuty breakfast of my own before going to work, you know, since I was there anyway.

The strangest thing happened when I walked into the store. There was this lady there who was trying to explain to the...donut sellers? Donut chefs? Donut artists? Donut-istas? Hmm...let's keep going with the LOTR's theme and call them Donut Orcs...or Dorcs. That works. People who make and sell donuts are officially called Dorcs.

Okay.

So, the strangest thing happened when I walked into Krispy Kreme. There was this lady who was trying to explain to the Dorcs that she wanted a dozen assorted donuts, but she wanted them all packaged differently. This poor lady, I felt so sorry for her (and even more so for the Dorc that was helping her), because she kept rambling and stuttering. Finally, she managed to tell the Dorcs that she wanted four donuts in one box, six in another box, one in a bag, and one to eat in the store. It took her about five minutes to explain all this because she kept stuttering and generally not making sense.

Then she finally got what she wanted the way she wanted it packaged, and she went to pay for her order. Well, the Dorcs didn't communicate very well with each other, and the lady wasn't paying attention, so she ended up paying for more donuts than she was supposed to, and then the manager had to come void the order. Then the poor lady couldn't carry all the stuff she had ordered and more Dorcs had to come help her.

Then the frazzled lady went to eat the donut she'd ordered in the store, and while she was there, she took out a notebook to write something down. What was she writing? Nobody knows, because the pen she was using didn't have any ink in it.

Did I mention that this poor frazzled lady was me?

It was.

I was writing down a prayer. I do that. I have ADOSD (Attention Deficit Oooh Shiny! Disorder). If I don't write down or type out my prayers, I can't stay focused. So that's what I was doing with the notebook...praying in Krispy Kreme. Only I got about two sentences into my prayer before my pen completely ran out of ink. I could have gone out to my car to get a pen, but that would have required me juggling all my boxes out to the car with me. I could have asked one of the Dorcs for a pen, but they had already done enough for poor confusing me. So I just sat there and wrote without any ink. And I know they noticed, because one of the Dorcs kept coming up behind me with the pretense of sweeping the floor, trying to figure out what in the world I was doing.

Eventually, I ate my donut and left...and I finished my prayer in the car...after I drove to a different parking lot...after I got a new pen...

So the rest of Birthday Eve was pretty fun. I went walking/running while listening to some Rich Mullins, and it was amazing. I felt so good both physically and Spiritually, but when I got done with the exercise, I had to rush. I was going to a production of Phantom of the Opera that was being performed by a local private school. So I showered and got dressed, and then realized I hadn't eaten much of anything since that donut. So I was lightheaded and stuff. I scarfed down some spaghetti squash and put on some mascara and rushed out the door.

My roommate was playing violin in the orchestra for the play (she teaches violin for the school), so she was driving. We were over halfway there when I realized I'd left my ticket at the apartment. Fortunately, the ticket people were very nice and very forgiving of poor frazzled me, and they got me another ticket. I was able to enjoy the show, but not before one more little bit of social awkwardness.

The student who took my ticket at the door was wearing some really cute black shoes. They were particularly cute, because I was wearing the same shoes. So I made a point of telling her, "Oh, I love your shoes!" She smiled and thanked me. I said, "We obviously have the same taste," and I showed her my shoes. She gave me a blank stare and thanked me again. I said, "I said that because we are wearing the same shoes." She gave me an even blanker stare...and I realized that she wasn't going to play the game. Aww. So I went and took my seat. The end.

The birthday went extremely well. There was very little social awkwardness on the actual birthday. I did go out to dinner with the family I nanny for, and I almost passed that up because I was SO tired. Birthdays are exhausting. But they talked me into it and I had a pleasant and almost completely unawkward experience. The waiter thought I was the kids' mom, but that sort of thing happens to me ALL the time. I should write a blog about that...

But then I went out to eat yesterday for some post-birthday merriment with my friends. We went to an upscale pizza place. First off, they couldn't seat us at a table (at first) and we were seated in two back-to-back booths, which meant we had to shout at each other if we wanted to converse.

Then, our waiter was interesting. He was a close-talker. And a skulker. You know the type. He stands way too close to you so that you can smell/feel his breath (smells/feels like fish)...and he just generally creeps you out. Then he looms over you while you're pondering your order. I think they do it on purpose. They stand there creeping you out until you just order the first thing you see--the featured and most expensive item on the side of the menu. We actually nicknamed him "Gollum" because of the skulking.

We got everything ordered and were able to move the party to an actual table, which was nice. But I was wearing a new shirt, and it gaped a lot (which I didn't realize before I put it on), so I ended up having to tug on my shirt constantly to keep from flashing everyone. Gollum may or may not have noticed this, but he did tell me that since it was my birthday celebration, I got a free piece of cake. So my friend turned to me and said, "Pull up your shirt, Ruth. The cake is ALREADY free!"

Yeah.

Then they brought out the cake, and I thought, "Phew! They're not one of these restaurants that does the big birthday production. They just let me eat my cake in peace!" But then another waiter (who was not Gollum, but a nice man named Kevin who has a bad toothache that keeps him up at night--please keep him in your prayers--I'm totally serious here) realized it was for my birthday, and he took the cake away again.

And I sighed and said, "Oh, apparently this cake comes with a side of public humiliation."

And it did. In the form of a candle. And a birthday song.

All in all, I had a MARVELOUS birthday, but I'm glad I have almost a whole year before I get to have another one. Birthdays are great, but they're exhausting.

I now return to my regularly scheduled life, which is already in progress.

SAA Ep. #20: Calorie Nazi

I have a bad habit of slipping into bad habits (see what I did there?). Recently, I discovered another bad habit I picked up. Oddly enough, it was a bad habit that came out of a good habit. My problem, as usual, is that I am seldom able to find a good balance. If I'm to succeed in something, I usually have to be super disciplined. Sometimes, this discipline spills over into my social life and starts annoying people.

Last year, I started counting calories because I decided I was sick of being fat. Sure, I fell off the wagon for a while...and gained back a lot of weight over Thanksgiving and Christmas, but I picked it back up again for the obligatory New Year's Resolutions. It works for me, but as I said, I have to be super disciplined. None of this "moderation" stuff works for me. I mean, I can limit myself to a couple of pieces of chocolate a day--I guess that's moderate. But if I were to go to a buffet--especially one with a dessert bar, we'd have a problem. I don't know when to say no, so I have to tell myself no beforehand.

And that means I have to know the calories in everything I eat before I eat it.

So last week one of my preschool kids had a birthday party, and the mom brought donuts...and not just any donuts. Krispy Kremes, the ONE DONUT TO RULE THEM ALL. I was going to politely refuse, but the mom put the beautiful donut on a plate and handed it to me. I had to accept. I took one bite, just one bite, of the glazed Precious. Oh, but once I had tasted the Donut of Power, I could not stop. Was I consuming it, or was it consuming me?

I skipped my lunch and one of my snacks that day to compensate, and the SECOND I got home, I turned on the computer and Googled "glazed Krispy Kreme donut calories." I had to know how much damage I had done.

Turns out, the Donut of Power was only 30 calories over the protein bar I was going to eat for lunch. It fit fairly easily into my diet. It fit so easily that I went back and had ANOTHER donut on Sunday. I'll probably go back and have another one sometime this week. Sure, there's very little protein or anything else healthy about a donut, even if the calories are relatively low, but Ruthums wants her Precioussss.

Don't start calling me Ruthums.

So anyway, when I looked up the calorie info for the donut, my roommate was sitting nearby. I started telling her about how many calories were in different kinds of donuts. Apparently, this stuff fascinates me now. I'd probably rattled off the calorie info for about seven different kinds of donuts before she finally said, "Ruth. Stop. Nobody cares."

She is right. Nobody cares. Except for me. It's because I've turned into a calorie nazi, and I didn't even realize it. Without any warning whatsoever, I can change from socially awkward superhero into a calorie counting nazi jerkface that annoys you by making you actually think about what you're eating.

I've even developed an unhealthy relationship with healthy spaghetti squash. Why? Because 9 ounces only has about 100 calories, and there's so much you can do with it. Seriously, I'm eating it like five nights a week now. Sunday, I put some 60 calorie spaghetti sauce on it. Yesterday, I also put spaghetti sauce on it (I love spaghetti). Tonight, I really shook things up and put peanut sauce on it--I even mixed in some chopped up spaghetti squash seeds to make it seem like there were peanuts in my squash noodles.

9 ounces of real pasta has a lot more than 100 calories in it, but you probably don't care.

My birthday is coming up, and I'm not even going to be able to get over my calorie nazi-ness for that. The family I sit/nanny for wants to take me out for a birthday dinner--already my brain is screaming, "OH NO! Where can I go? What can I eat? Calories are everywhere!" I want to try one of those Chick-fil-a banana pudding milkshakes on my birthday, but I know how many calories are in it and I'm going to have to share it with someone. I'm not even talking halves. I'm only drinking 1/3 of that bad boy. I want to go do something with my friends for my birthday, but I am terrified of anything that has to do with calories I'm not in control of.

...is this sad and pathetic? Probably.

...but at least my jeans fit...

...actually, they're a little loose.

I call it the donut diet (don't I wish...).

(Just so you know, I didn't include the number of calories in the Donut of Power because I figure that most people just don't want to know. If you know, then you can go Google it yourself. I mean, what do I look like? Your personal Google Slave? Sheesh.)