Posts Tagged ‘Kettle chips’

Reading Jane Austen on my iPad. Swoon, clickety click.

It doesn't get any better than this, I daresay...

I boldly traveled out of the city yesterday (all will be revealed in tomorrow’s blog post), and I have to say that after literally running through Grand Central to catch my train, it was impossibly lovely to plop down in my seat, crack open my iPad and read all about the Bennet girls and their hubby-hunting for the ninetieth time.

When I got my luxe little gizmo for Xmas, I promised to part company with my Luddite tendencies and embrace the 21st century. And I kinda have. Still, it’s a tad ironic that one of my favorite things to do with it so far is to devour a cherished novel written in 1813.

Personally, I love the juxtaposition of toggling back and forth between centuries at random – in all forms of media. Take my television viewing this week, for example: I jumped up and down when the hottest Fitzwilliam Darcy on the planet accepted his much-deserved Golden Globe award for The King’s Speech; I rode the emotional rollercoaster that is the fifth and -sniff- final season of Friday Night Lights; and much to Hubby’s chagrin, I discovered a new piece of PBS Masterpiece mini-series brilliance – the costumed period drama Downton Abbey.

If you’re anything like me, you will agree that Downton Abbey is all that and a massive bag of Kettles. (Which I haven’t been eating, btw, ever since I started P90X – hurrah!) It’s set a little later than Pride & Prejudice – right around the time of the sinking of the Titanic – but it still embodies all those highly constrictive Brit customs and societal values that we, as modern-day Super Mamas, can hardly relate to.

I like my life now, and the freedom it affords me. Like picking my own hubby, for instance, and not having one thrust upon me by a Mrs. Bennet type. But there is just something so swoony about dipping into these other lifetimes – even via iPad. A corseted, horse-and-buggy mommy time-out.

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Stomach-clenching strollering = “functional fitness”

About a million more McClaren miles, and I'm golden...

On Sunday, I shared my tips for making the arduous task of power-strollering the Wee Lass back and forth to school every day a bit more out-and-out fitness-y. Then I remembered what my mama-friend Jenny F. mentioned recently: “Andrew Weil says it’s all about ‘functional fitness.'”

Nothing like two crazed working moms trying to trick themselves into believing that their day-to-day activities constitute actual exercise!

Still, as anyone who has read my book – or my frequent blog shout-outs for his meditation CDs – knows, I worship Dr. Weil. To me, the snowy-haired wellness guru is all that and a big bag of Tuscan Three Cheese Kettle chips.

So this morning, I prowled around the good doc’s website to see if I could find any major missives on functional fitness. Of course, nowhere does he mention the exact action of robo-schlepping for drop-off and pick-up. But in general, he does argue strenuously for good, old-fashioned m-o-v-i-n-g. Citing a study done by the Mayo Clinic on couch potatoes vs. hyper types…

“No one knows if you can change an inborn tendency to be sedentary, but if you can find ways to build more movement into your life – standing instead of sitting, walking instead of driving – you may find it easier to lose weight,” Weil writes. “I also recommend learning various movement techniques like tai chi and qigong. These are great for improving balance and reducing risk of falls as well as being quite calming. You can also begin learning how to dance, do yoga – just plain fidgeting can do the trick too.”

But before the Workout Police start breaking down my door, I want to be clear that there’s an actual definition of “functional fitness” and then there’s the Momover version. On my happy-if-delusional planet, rather than executing core-strengthening moves in the gym that would make my strollering easier, I just stroller with purpose, moving like (and against) the wind and consciously sucking in my gut the entire way.

I’m performing a function. And I’m getting fit. Ergo, functional fitness.

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Ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven…

Chip, chip, chipping away at the 200-mark...

Finally, finally I’ve reached 100. No, not my weight; in my dreams. And not one hundred years, either. Although I do sort of want to stick around forever (after all, the Wee Lass is only four), one of the chief reasons I work out like a crazed loony is so that I can live not just longer but better. There’s a big difference between just kinda being here and genuine health, and I’m after the latter scenario.

While I’m not exactly jumping for joy at the fact that, in recent years, exercise has proved to have little impact on our weight, for me, personally, I  still feel it has the magic power to offset a little of the hyper-caloric, really-not-great stuff I’ve been known to eat. In other words, I think the fact that I’ve been averaging at least three workouts per week lately means that all the French fries I’ve wolfed down at the town pool haven’t really welded themselves to my ass.

Still, it’s not as if the scale is heading south. And if I really want it to, I need to eat less. Fewer calories. Basic math.

But right now, so I can motivate myself to slog through another 90+ workouts to meet my 2010 goal, I just want to go to my happy place and remember all the many amazing benefits of exercise that don’t involve caloric mitigation of Tuscan Three Cheese Kettle Chips. So, per the Mayo Clinic and other reputable health news sources, exercise…

1…helps you sleep better. (Yum! And don’t forget how beautifying shut-eye is.)

2…reduces stress. (What mama doesn’t need help with that?)

3…protects against a long list of chronic diseases. (Reason enough to get moving.)

4…increases mental focus. (Buh-bye “mommy brain”!)

5…boosts energy. (So you can do more stuff, like reaching your workout goal for the year or powering through your To Do list so you can sneak off for a much-needed mama mini-break.)

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The summer of snacking stupidly

Frenchy, our summer fling is officially over....

Perhaps it’s the tempting fare at the town pool, the Saturday date nights with Hubby involving movie popcorn (or—gasp— the Cheez-whizzy nachos) or my ongoing love affair with “artisanal” garbage, but I have been snacking very, very stupidly this summer. What happened to all the smart snacking I use to do? The organic apples, the 60-calorie packs of Sunsweet pitted prunes, the nuts, twigs and berries I use to scarf between meals? And where oh where are my gallons and gallons of lemon water? I’ve fallen off the healthy nosh wagon, and I need to scamper right back on.

And after ranting against the belly-bloating toxicity of my (formerly deeply beloved) Diet Coke in my book, I’ve even been guzzling GuS. Have you met GuS yet? No? Then I urge you not to track him down. DO NOT Facebook GuS. Especially Dry Cranberry Lime GuS. Just because GuS doesn’t contain chemicals and dastardly high fructose corn syrup doesn’t mean GuS won’t add an inch or two to your thighs.

A big hurdle for me will be bidding adieu to French fries, of which I think I’ve eaten a stack approximately as high as la Tour Eiffel over the past few months. Oh, and Kettle chips. Like GuS, Kettle chips are natural and gourmet-ish and unspeakably yummy. (Case in point: the Tuscan Three Cheese flavor, which the company cleverly markets as a “Mediterranean vacation in a bag.”)

I love Kettle chips, much as I do GuS. Too bad they don’t love me right back.

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