Yep. This one's about racism.

My mom used to say I wore my heart on my sleeve...which for the most part, was, and is entirely true.  Granted, I have learned to cope with it more easily in my years of accumulated wisdom, but I do still get my feelings hurt easily, and sometimes misconstrue jokes or "insults" as serious.

But, in this society, ya' gotta have thick skin.  So as I have grown, I have learned to let a lot of things slide.

I let comments about the standard for women being "unhealthy" and "too thin" slide off my back.  Back in the day (which was a Wednesday, for those of you wondering), these accusations of being too skinny would have offended me.  But in a society where allegations about weight and diet are all too common, I have learned to let them go.

I used to get upset when I heard or saw someone ignorantly claim that being a Christian was a fantasy, or that Christians are judgmental, "holier-than-thou" bigots.  Back on this Wednesday (mind you, it was a busy day) I would have left a snooty comment, or let the accusation boil my blood a little.  But nowadays, I just turn the other cheek, as us silly Christians would say. 

I used to try to fight the jabs boys or men would make about women being moody, irrational, and hard to please.  "We are not moody, boys are just stupid!" I would proclaim!  Well...this insult I not only let slide because boys are indeed, and innocently enough, slightly stupid when it comes to figuring out a woman...but also because women are scientifically, and also innocently enough, kind of moody, irrational, and hard to please.  (You know it's true, ladies.)

I take pride in being able to slough off the occasional comment.  Opinions are opinions, and each individual is entitled to their own, no matter how illogical or downright dumb I may think it is.  I have learned to tell the difference between an opinion, which is not to be argued, and a truth, which leaves room for correction, if necessary.

Well...I have some correcting to do.

Recently on Facebook, I saw a status from an old acquaintance, who happens to be African American.  It read something like this:

"So dude gets shot by the police in tha cliff at Taco Bell off Camp Wisdom...he was smoking a blunt and when law tried to approach him he reached for his gun..."

To which many friends, also African American, left several comments, including:

"These white folks don't give two sh*ts about n***as!"

(Granted, the young gentlemen did not censor himself, but I inserted the asterik for your reading pleasure.)

Now I'm not sure exactly what she was implying.  It is my hope that she was insinuating that had he just handed over his little "treat," he would be alive today; not the latter, which the eloquent young man obviously felt....that some stupid white cop carelessly shot a black man simply for pointing a gun at him.

A few weeks ago, another old high school acquaintance, who also happens to be African American, left this as his status:

"I got kicked out the club for goin into the women's restroom...wtf? Gimme a better reason than that racist man...it's cool I got a bottle first"

After which he posted a picture of a bottle of Grey Goose vodka.  I won't go into this one too much, as I would hope it's obvious what is wrong with this statement, but in case you're a little cloudy today, let me be clear: kicking a boy out of a women's restroom is not racist. It is sane and logical and decent; and you sir, are a creeper and an apparent thief who should probably be kicked out of clubs before you even make it through the door.

I will let a lot of opinions/accusations/allegations/insults slide, as I previously discussed.  But I am fed up with seeing and hearing comments about how "white people are so racist."  In reference to the young boy who was shot after pulling a GUN on a POLICE OFFICER....what exactly does this comment person (excuse me for lack of words; this is the part where I get a little worked up) think should have happened?  Does he believe the officer should have paused to consider that perhaps the black man was just worked up and didn't mean any harm; he just wanted to smoke his marijuana in peace?  Does he think the officer should have put his life, and his family and friend's well being in jeopardy just because he is white and this young man is black?  Or, were the roles reversed, would the intention be the same?  If it was a black police officer shooting a white boy with a blunt, would it be OK in that instance?  If it were this comment person's father who was out patrolling the streets, would he have wanted his father to not fire his weapon at someone who was POINTING A GUN AT HIM, and just hope that instead it would be an unloaded weapon, or perhaps the whole thing would just blow over and they could go have a taco together?  And to the other status regarding the "racist man" who kicked him out of a restroom...yes, I'm sure that the white security guard/bouncer walked in and said: "Absolutely nothing about this situation is unordinary, unsafe, or inappropriate in ANY way, and I allow guys to hang out in the women's restroom at this club all the time, but since you're black, sir, you need to get the hell out of here."

Yes.  I'm sure that is exactly what went through his mind.  And I'm sure similar thoughts went through the police officer's mind before he defended himself against a threat.  I'm sure he didn't think "Well, I'm going to have the possible death of a young boy on my hands for the rest of my life, but because he's black, I'm going to shoot him anyways."

I can tolerate a lot.  But it seems to me that the ones so quick to call white people "racist" are the only ones looking at the skin color in the first place. 

There's Hope. (Thanks, sis.)

I'm stressed lately.  Scratch that...I'm always just a little bit stressed, but lately it's been magnified.  I tend to worry more about the future than simply enjoy the present.  I cringe every time I log on to my online banking account, regardless of the available balance.  I hesitate calling on my friends, family, and dear husband for help or even words of encouragement, because I fear I'm irritating them; and even when I do get up the courage to call, I worry that the flood of support they give me in return will soon run out.

Add to all that, I recently decided to go back to school.  And let me tell you one thing I have learned for sure (aside from the names and functions of all 206 bones in the body [227 if you count the fetal skeleton])....being in school as an adult is much less fun than being in school as a "full-time student."

My personal theme for the month of May was this:

"Stress won't help anything."

Well, here it is May 23rd and I have had enough of that silly theme.  I'm ready to lay in the stress; to completely envelop myself in it by crying, whimpering, giving myself an unbearable headache by thinking of all our upcoming expenses, injecting my veins with caffeine to prolong the days (who came up with only 24 measly hours in a day, anyway?), and carrying an edge of irritability along wherever I go.  I'm ready to swim in the stress, and let it bury me alive, because that is so much easier than believing that...

"Stress won't help anything."

And then my sister comes along and puts this song on her iPhone and pulls the lyrics up on the computer and tells me that even though I have heard this song many times before, that I need to listen to it and read along....

Have you ever had one of those moments where you're eating something you've eaten 1,000 times before, or driving down the same road you've driven down every day for two years, or looking at someone you've looked at nearly every day for your entire life, and all of the sudden, you REALLY appreciate it?  You take that monotonous bite, just masticating away (gotta love science classes), and you realize how much you really love that hint of garlic?  Or you see on the side of that same ole' road, a beautiful garden blossoming with bright roses?  Or that person you look at every day, that person whose face you have memorized, you suddenly notice that when their eyes catch the sunlight, they have the most beautiful hint of amber/gold in them? (That's my husband's eyes by the way, so back off ladies, he is TAKEN.)

That happened to me today.  And I'm sure the words of this song won't resonate nearly as much with you all as they did with me this morning, but I hope it hits home for somebody.  But promise me this: if you DO want to scroll just a little further (you didn't think I'd ramble on about this song and not post the lyrics, did you?), please open a new tab up on your browser and listen to it as you read.  If you have ever been in this state of mind I'm in right now, where you literally feel like you're drowning in it all, her voice will beckon you to keep your head above water.  I love you, sister.  Thank you for being my rock.

India Arie: There's Hope

Here's the song on YouTube

Back when I had a little,I thought that i needed alot. A little was over rated, but alot was a little to complicated. See zero didn't satisfiy me , a million didn't make me happy. That's when I learned the lesson that its all about your perceptions. Hey, are you a papa or a super star so you act ,so you feel, so you are. It aint about the size of your car, It's about the size of the faith in your heart

There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that.There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that. There's hope

Off in the back country of Brazil, I met a young brotha that made me feel that, that i could accomplish anything. Ya see just like me he wanted to sing he had, NO windows and NO doors, he lived a simple life and was extremely poor. On top of all that he had no eye sight, but that didnt keep him from seeing the light he said, Whats it like in the USA, and all I did was complain. he said living here is paradise, he taught me paradise is in your mind,you know that ....

There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that.There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that. There's hope

Every time i turn on the t.v ( there's hope)Somebody's acting crazy (there's hope)If you let it'll drive you crazy (there's hope)But im taking back my power today (ther's hope)Gas prices they just keep on rising(there's hope)The government they keep on lying (there's hope)

But we gotta keep on surving, keep living our truth and do the best we can do because 

There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that.( Yea yea ).There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that. (Yea yea yea) There's hope

Stand up for your rights, Keeping shining your life, and show the world your smile

Stand up for your rights, Keeping shining your life, and show the world your smile

There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that.( Better thank God for that) .There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that. Yea yeaThere's hope

Two, one, two, one, two, two, two, one 

Brady wrote a blog.

Now I want to keep this short and sweet...but I must preface this groundbreaking, once-in-a-lifetime post with a little sappiness.

I fell in love with Brady the summer of 2006.  Since then, I have fallen even more in love with his family.  His sister, is not only my sister, she is my soul sister and one of my dearest and truest friends.  His brother-in-law, is my big, protective brother, who is also one of my favorite people in the whole world to be around. (Might I add, the two of them recently added to this family the cutest baby girl in the world, who is also the love of my life and, though he doesn't know it yet, will grow to like me more than Brady.) His mom, is not only the best mother-in-law in the world, she is one of the kindest, most honest women I know.  And his dad...well, his dad is the reason my husband is who he is today.  I see more and more of him in Brady every day, and let me tell you, folks, that is a good thing.  I have always known my FIL is an excellent writer, but it wasn't until the day of Pudge Rodriguez's retirement as a Texas Ranger, that I discovered that's one more quality he passed along to Brady.  (I actually got a little jealous when I read this email.) 

So enjoy, folks.  Brady Bond wrote a blog.  It may not have been intended that way, but with his blessing, I get to share it with the masses.  I must warn you, though...it is completely unedited (I said he was a good writer, not the best speller.)  Oh, and if you love it and decide you like his writing more than mine....keep it to yourself.





If you will allow me a moment to let the dad in me come out.

First of all 26 is right around the corner, let's be honest it's all down hill after that. Last week it hit me, I am gettin old. I talk about how kids have it so easy, I don't get why anybody would want a phone that's in between a computer a phone. I think lectures are better than working on the Internet. And most of all it takes me about 10-15 to warm up before feeling good when exercising. I'm just getting old.

It hit me even more when I heard the news that Ivan Pudge Rodriguez was retiring. For those of you either not around in my childhood or forgot Pudge was the man. Pudge had IT. I am not real sure to this day what it is, but being a coach you just recognize when someone has IT. Few people have it but when you come across those that have it, it is a pleasure to watch.

Growing up a baseball player I had to do what he did. I wore #7, I played catcher. I refused to wear that stupid hockey mask of a catchers mask because Pudge didn't wear one. I remember telling dad I HAD to have that shoulder flap on the chest protector because Pudge had one. I remember being as old as 9th grade and dad saying your doing too much in between pitches, your not ready. It didn't matter, my swing was modeled after Pudge and I wasnt going to change it till he changed his. Hell I remember being a kid and trying in a game to do the cross (like the Catholics do) before pitches just because Pudge did it.

Pudge produced on the field. A lifetime 296 hitter for a catcher who played to 40 is pretty good. 300+ home runs and just a shade under 3000 career hits. Behind the plate he was a piece of art in motion. He threw out almost 50% of runners for his career. He could fire a ball from home to the center field wall on his knees, or so I thought. In 2009 he passed Carlton Fisk and owns the record for most games caught in MLB history. Pudge holds the record for RBI in a ranger game at 9, he is also the first person to score a run in ranger post season history(much like myself who scored the winning run in cedar hills first ever playoff win).

Pudge broke into the league at age 19. Just a kid. He was an AL MVP, a 13 time gold glove winner and a 14 time all star, he also has a world series championship with the Marlins.

What is more refreshing at age 19 he promised to learn English so he could communicate with the fans, media and American players, the same cant be said for some of his peers. In the mid 90s his contract was up with the rangers. He went and sat down with the owner and gm without his agent and said I want to stay let's get it done. And got it done. How refreshing would that be in a day in age where people making 20+ million HAVE to have 2 million more or they won't play. Be real Drew Breese, learn from Pudge. I remember reading a lot of Dallas Morning News sports day sections and never heard of Pudge complaining about playin time, money, anything. He just went to work every day and produced. He caught Kenny Rogers perfect game and he was chasing Robin Ventura from behind before Nolan put a whooping on him!

Pudge was and in my opinion is the face of the Texas Rangers and always will. Yea he prob was on the juice at some point but juiced or not he had it. Players have come along that are better, and flashier. But nobody could ever be Pudge. I can still to this day Remember sitting in the first row of the third deck at the ballpark and hear dad say watch how he gets set before the pitch, watch his leg kick, watch how quickly he throws the ball. Dad was right, maybe he saw IT to, thankfully he passed it along to me.

I've witnessed some great moments at the ballpark. I remember gettin chills when Cal Ripken hit his final pitch in Arlington over the left field wall and Chuck Morgan set off the fireworks and played the music. Me, mom and Lo sat outside when they clinched the division vs the Angels. Me and dad were there in 99 when they clinched vs the As. Meg and I were they when they beat those hated yanks in the playoffs. Many more memories will come but none will replace the memories of number 7 behind the plate.

I hope one day I'm blessed with a son and I hope for my sake and his he can find his Pudge in this world. Someone who will take the time out of his pre game preparation to sign a baseball for that little kid who sat above the dugout all batting practice just hoping for his signature on a baseball. An era closes to today. But I am thankful for parents who cared enough to go sit through batting practice so that little kid could get a signature on a baseball.

You may now return your regularly scheduled day.

BB

Sent from my iPhone

Utter NCAA Nonsense

I have big issues with the NCAA.  They pride themselves as a superior organization of college athletic programs, and constantly remind us how hard they're working to keep players focused on education first, sports second.  Rules are amended, athletes punished, and teams stripped of their title, all in an effort to guide these young athletes toward a bright, beaming future, whether that future has to do with sports or not.   To the NCAA, it's not about the politics, or the hefty paycheck that comes along with the booming business of college athletics; it's about education.

Right?

Well, obviously, I don't feel that way.  And if you didn't gather that by now, please do me a favor and contact me in a private manner to let me know...because apparently I need to work on conveying messages via computer screen.  The NCAA is a business. Period.  And as good businessmen and women do, they ensure that above all else, they are painted in a favorable light to the masses; no matter how much deception or unethical decision making that entails.  They preach the value of a college education, reiterating that above all else, the students under their legislature know good and well that they must abide by all NCAA rules and regulations before they're able to play.  These noble soldiers of education claim their students must excel in the classroom before they're allowed to excel on the field (or court, or diamond...whatever).

Example:

Lebron James.  Recently, the usually camera-shy celeb debuted in a PSA urging students to "stay in school."  He rattles off some statistic about how many kids drop out of school each year (never clarifying what level of schooling he's referring to), and gives his own testimonial about how he himself could have been a drop-out, but miraculously defied the odds. (Bravo, King.)  I hate to pick on such a good-natured person, but he is ironically a perfect example of the hypocrisy in the sports industry.  I'm not sure what networks aired this commercial, but I saw it for the first time on ESPN.  And my brain exploded....

The double standards the NCAA, ESPN, and many professional sports teams have for education and schooling, is absolutely ridiculous.  Lebron preaches about the importance of education, urging students to "stay in school."  Really, Lebron?  This coming from the guy who has been getting handouts since he was merely 18, once even risking his high school eligibility after accepting several lucrative gifts?  The same guy who went straight from high school to the NBA?   Not a lick of college? I find it extremely hard to believe that had the NBA allowed high school students to enter the league before graduation, Lebron would have passed on the offer.  Nowadays, there are age requirements on students entering into pro sports.  The NBA requires athletes to be at least 19 years old at the time of the draft, and at least one full NBA season must have elapsed since the player's graduation.  This rule, I believe, is in place so that the head honchos sleep a little more soundly at night, because requiring students to theoretically complete only one year of college, is the exact opposite of the NCAA's supposed standards.

(I promise, this rant is almost over)...the NCAA has their gun cocked and ready when it comes to punishing athletes for acting like pros.  SMU is the best example I know: short version, they were given the "death penalty" and virtually the backbone of their program was indefinitely destroyed because the higher-ups at the school were caught giving high school recruits monetary compensation...in a big way.  It's argued (by hubby) that this "kiss of death" was given to scare of the many other colleges engaging in such acts.  SMU was made the example of what not to do, and the inevitable punishments for all schools who disobeyed.  The message sent was that above all else, the NCAA would not tolerate amateur athletes accepting money or gifts based on their athletic abilities.  And yet, March Madness is touted as one of the most-watched "programs" on ESPN; the BCS National Championship Bowl is hyped up all during college football season; the College World Series is broadcast on every major network in TV.  Thousands of people and businesses make money off college sports, yet the only people who don't see a dime are the entertainers themselves.  How can college basketball players, hell even high school players, be expected to turn away anything remotely related to a "gift," when all these big whigs are making bookoos off airing their games?  How can high school athletes be expected to work toward a bachelor's degree and ignore the calls from the NBA or NFL, etc., when Lebron James, who went straight from high school graduation to the Cav's locker room, is making more money than some people with PhD's?!  How can we demean these athletes who stay in college just long enough to be drafted, when the NCAA itself put the rule in place requiring them to make an extended appearance on a college campus before they're eligible to go pro?!  I know if I had the choice between a college educationn at 19 years old, or a $7 million signing bonus, I sure wouldn't be shopping for college ruled notebooks.

It's almost pointless talking about this kind of thing, because it's not going to change.  The NCAA and all it's cronies will continue to exalt their organization as a model of educated, amateur athletes.  And they will continue to pull the puppet strings on the many athletes/coaches under their jurisdiction until the cash comes rolling in.

Inspired by Peanut Butter

I guess the rambling past writer's block worked...

I carry around a mini composition notebook.  This thing is in my wallet, purse, sweater pocket, or at least within walking distance, nearly 99% of the time.  The family (me, Hubbs, Sister, and two best friends/the pups' Uncles) all got the notebooks a couple months ago.  Sister came up with the idea.  All too often, we would come up with brilliant, earth-shattering theories, and as quickly as they came, they were gone.  This became quite an annoyance until Sister decided to do something about it.  The original plan was to carry the notepad/notebook in our back pockets (and if you didn't wear pants with pockets, well....nobody sniffed your notebook).  This would eliminate "losing thoughts" and instead, give us constant access to write down our most profound thoughts and ideas, as well as equip us with the means to keep lists, to-dos, workouts...really anything our hearts (and brains) desired. Mine has by far gotten the most use.  Uncle A and Andrew Brees (don't ask) neglect theirs like an abandoned animal; Sister is following in their footsteps, save for the occasional to-do list or reminder about school work; Hubby only keeps track of his miles in his notebook, though sometimes I make notes for him, which we haven't decided is completely legal yet.  Here is a picture of my book:  (no I can't show you the inside, because then I'd have to hunt you all down and kill you.  And I'm sure there are millions of you, and let's be honest...time is money, folks.)

A few nights ago, I filled about 4 pages of my notebook with ideas for blog posts.  I got my swag back.  (Hopefully for longer than a few weeks this time.)

This post, however, was not inspired by Hubby, the pups, politics or religion...it was inspired by peanut butter.   Note to all you fair-weather readers; BB and I are on a no-carb diet.  (Natural carbs like fruit, nuts and veggies are allowed...hence the peanut butter inspiration.)  The past two and a half weeks have had its ups and downs.  Example: BB and I were chaperones for the Girls State Powerlifting Meet in Corpus Christi this past weekend.  It was on this trip that we both realized we should have packed snacks.  It is next to impossible to find anything of any substance without carbohydrates in a gas station or convenience store.  The entire 8 hour trip, we snacked on beef jerky, sunflower seeds, and peanut butter.  Those three don't make a good combination, whether eaten separately or together.  Desperate times call for desperate measures...but, overall, we both love this new lifestyle change/experiment/diet, and it has forced us to think outside the box to fill our cravings.

We are both craving sweets.  Hubby more so than me (his set of "sweet teeth" are aching from lack of sugar).  The other night, after buckets of drool and constant mention of Oreo's and Snicker's bars, I took matters into my own blender.

I am quite the cook.  My creations may not be elaborate, and most are made in bulk to accommodate the swinging door of boys with empty bellies coming into my house, but they are most of the time pretty delicious.   So get ready, World....I'm going to share some of my favorites.  This particular creation is absolutely scrumptious, and best of all, 100% healthy and satiating.  I'd continue, but you should just whip your Kitchen Aid out and try for yourself.

Banana Peanut Butter Protein Shake
This recipe makes one shake, but I would suggest doubling or tripling it so you don't waste your time making another one after your friends/family/significant others ask for one.

• 1 banana
• 2 Tbsp. peanut butter or almond butter
• 1-2 cups of water or almond milk
• a cup of ice chips
• 1-2 scoops chocolate flavored protein powder
• Berries option (strawberries, blackberries or raspberries are recommended; to your liking)

It's pretty self-explanatory what happens next.  Slice the banana, throw the rest in, and BLEND!!!  Enjoy in your favorite glass or mug, preferably with a crazy straw so you can watch in anticipation as the chocolatey mixture makes its way up.  

A Carb-Free Me!

This happens to me every time I start blogging regularly...I get writers' block.  I think of what to blog about all the time, but nothing comes to mind.  I try to make my blogs relevant.  I mean, if I had a cute, little baby crawling around doing cute, little baby things, or if I was so inclined to adopt a theme for my blog and share my tips on cooking and crocheting and...being domesticated, I'd probably post a lot more.  But I try to only blog when I really have something to say (or type).  Then, of course, a wall goes up and I can't write a decent post to save my life.  So, the only reasonable solution for this rut, I believe, is to just get back in the habit of the act of blogging.  (Hence why I have rambled on for nearly 10 lines with nothing of real importance being said.) Thus, the randomness develops:

Ever since middle school, I have observed "fasting" or giving up a vice or bad habit during Lent.  I'm not Catholic, and to be honest, I don't vehemently practice one specific religion.  Never mind why I do it; I just do it. In the past, I have been known to give up sodas, fast food, Facebook, and cheese (that one was rather difficult).  This year, I gave up drinking.  Not just one specific family of alcohol, but alcohol in itself.  I've struggled the most with red wine, but so far, it hasn't been too terrible...just a little aggravating.  I also gave up carbohydrates.  This...has been tough.  I actually didn't start this "fast" until last Wednesday.  My two best friends (who are pretty beastly with carbs in their diets) decided on this diet when I was discussing giving up drinking.  Last week, Brady and I jumped aboard.  It's surprising what all has carbs in it; or rather, what I don't think of as a carbohydrate.  It's not just breads, pastas, and rice that I'm exempt from; it's any kind of sugars, potatoes in any form, oatmeal, protein bars, smoothies, you name it.  Goodbye eating out for the next 3 weeks.  But now that I'm done ranting, I must admit...I feel awesome.  I do get a little sleepy at odd times during the day, but it is extremely liberating knowing exactly what I'm putting into my body.  We all agreed that fruits and vegetables with natural carbohydrates in them are allowed, as well as natural peanut butter/almond butter, almond milk, and some other modified regularities.  So for every meal, BB and I have to eat raw foods straight out of *gasp* our own refrigerator.  But it feels so nice knowing that nearly everything we're eating is 100% nutritionally beneficial.  Everything we eat is fresh, because it has to be, and forget about swinging through a fast food joint to avoid cooking.  Here is an example of my menu for a day on this new "diet":

Breakfast:
one hard boiled egg
piece of turkey bacon
coffee (OK, OK....two cups)

Lunch
fresh green leaf lettuce with grilled chicken, chopped turkey bacon, cheddar cheese, and homemade salsa
string cheese

Snack
 protein shake with a handful of almonds

Dinner
Filet Mignon from our lovely, local Brookshire's
asparagus
one hard boiled egg

Dessert/Second Snack
banana with natural peanut butter
an orange

I'm not suggesting you try this diet.  It is definitely difficult, and especially for guys like my dear hubby who consumes nearly 2,500 calories a day on a regular basis (he has also run almost 200 miles so far in 2012...beat), you are definitely hungry a lot.  It takes some serious consideration, research, planning, and dedication.  But it is awesome.

OK...I feel better.  I at least remember how to type.  Now off to yoga with the hubs.  We love yoga night. :)

Saving the best for last

This post, I decided to spice things up a little.  Really let you into the mind of "Margaret Bond."  It is "Bond's Mindless Wanderings" isn't it?  Anywho, I thought I'd take a different route this post.  Instead of rambling on about life, liberty and the pursuit of happyness (you're welcome, Will Smith) I wanted to discuss something I am extremely passionate about.  Something I feel is so incredibly groundbreaking, I feel it would be a disservice not to share with the whole bunch of you.  I hope by the end of this, at least one of you (and there may indeed be just one of you) change your ways and accept into your life this theory, which I believe in so fully...

Let's start with pizza.

You may not know this about me, but I was lucky to be born without several metaphorical teeth.  Most astounding is the sweet tooth.  I lack that tooth.  In it's place, I have what I like to call a "chip" tooth; not to be mistaken with a chipped tooth.  I could down an entire bag of Dorito's in less time than it takes the biggest chocoholic to go through a bag of Lindor truffles...yes, I will take bets on that.  Another craving I was born without, is the bread craving.  I don't touch the rolls they put on the table at Texas Roadhouse (nor the cinnamon butter, because it's too sweet).  I don't particularly enjoy donuts, especially Krispy Kreme, because they're the worst of both worlds.  And I strongly believe that the smell of fresh baked bread is the best part of fresh baked bread.

That being said, I eat my pizza backward.  I start with the crust, eat alllll the way along until the crust is gone, and proceed to the bite most commonly known as "the best bite," "the tip of the iceberg," "the big kahun," "the triangle of glory."  (pick your favorite.)  I was chastised the other night for doing this. Most arguments were that the crust is the stabilizer of the pizza, and by eating it first, holding it was illogical and unnecessary.  Some threw in the argument that the previously mentioned "best bite" of pizza is the crust.  Neither of these arguments hold any merit to me.  Jimmy's is my favorite pizza place in the world.  Don't waste your money flying me to Chicago or Italy for a slice of deep dish.  Jimmy's is all I need in this world.  I have watched many people devour this delicious pizza in my home, and although those with any shred of sense agree that it's immensely gratifying, for the most part, they all do it wrong.  Everyone eats pizza by diving right in, holding the crust, and taking that first bite of pizza at the tip of the pie.  Even those who eat pizza with a fork (because Jimmy does make his pizzas a little tricky to hold) make this naive mistake.  DON'T YOU EAT THAT BITE FIRST BECAUSE IT'S DELICIOUS?! Then why not save the best for last?!

Don't think I restrict this theory to pizza.  The same goes for sandwiches, burgers, hot dogs, oh the list could go on and on.  Sandwiches for example...I eat in a circle around the middle of the sandwich, so the last bite is filled with all the goodness a sandwich entails.  Hot dogs! There is always a tiny bit at the end of a hot dog where there is no dog, only bun.  So I take the normal "first bite" and then flip that dog right around to get the empty, neglected bun out of the way, ensuring that my last bite will consist of everything that makes a hot dog delicious...bun, mustard, ketchup, and processed pig innards.  (OK, that was unnecessary, and completely contradictory of my entire post.)

All I can hope is if you don't adopt my practices, you at least respect them.  At least consider them.  Because, let's be honest, the next time you eat a piece of pizza, you'll see what I mean.  Those of you who don't eat the crust first after reading this....I'll be forced to say "I told you so" when your last bite of pizza is a crusty piece of risen yeast and salt, void of the beauty that is cheese, marinara sauce and whatever other toppings your heart desires.  And in this case, I hate saying "I told you so."