Making lemonade.

Did I tell you that I was doing the “No-S Diet”? I don’t remember how I found it, but it’s a very simple premise: no sweets, no snacks and no seconds, except on Saturday, Sunday and special occasions. The theory is that because you can have whatever you want for breakfast, lunch or dinner, as long as it’s not cake and it fits on a human-sized plate, and because you can have what you want on weekends, you can stick it out during the week. Weight loss will be fairly slow, but presumably sustainable. I’ve been doing it for about 3 weeks now, and seem to have moved my weight down a couple of pounds. That’s not much, but that could be because I have added Swednesdays to the sweets column; apparently I can’t make it 3 days without ice cream. I figure that’s still an improvement, and I do have on another of those old skirts today, after all. Anyway, if you’re looking for some way to wallow in the deprivation pool, this plan is a lot more humane than some – and believe me, I have a shitload of diet books to compare it with.

On another topic, I am NOT looking forward to the Democratic National Convention being held here in Denver. It’s bound to be a total cluster around here. We won’t be able to get reservations anywhere because the bars and restaurants will be swarming with self-important, asshole inside-the-Beltway types, dressed in their shitty DC uniforms that make me still look like a fashion goddess in comparison, various technological paraphernalia welded to their ears and fingers.

Traffic will suck, and I’m a little concerned about protest activity downtown where I work and my baby is in school. We were planning to try to keep Eeyore home that week, but then yesterday I read the most ridiculous article ever: there’s going to be a “tent city” in the park near our house. According to this article, the 20,000 – 50,000 expected protesters will not be permitted to sleep there overnight, but who believes that? Are the police going to check in every tent? I don’t care about that so much, but apparently there will be no facilities for all these delightful campers – so officials expect that they will be knocking on doors in the surrounding neighborhoods looking for places to take showers and … stuff. Are you kidding me? I’m as anti-war as the next member of the intellectual elite, but it’s not 1969 and that doesn’t translate for me into some sort of brotherhood of man shit where I have to let dirty strangers into my home.

Anyway, I would much rather be at the beach in Hilton Head with my mom at that time, but because our union’s contract is up for renewal at that time we’re not permitted to schedule vacation in case they strike. Which, now that I think about it, could mean that I won’t be here anyway – I’ll be in BFE Idaho somewhere answering phone calls from disgruntled customers and saying “Uh-huh,” while I examine my fingernails. Or, I could be, like, patching cables over at the convention. How hilarious would that be:

Kate: “I’m here to test your circuit?”

Brian Williams: “Yeah, we’re having trouble with the feed.”

Kate, leaning over so her butt crack is fully visible: “OK, just a second here…. I think I’ve got it.”

Tom Brokaw: “I thought your union employees were on strike?”

Kate: “Yes, it’s true, I’m a lawyer, but I thought you’d feel more comfortable that you were getting knowledgeable service if I dressed the part. Hey – I’ve always wanted to be an anchor, can I give it a go?”

Maybe this could work out for me yet!