NYC, Part 1

Last spring my oldest daughter Sarah decided (partially out of free will and partially out of some motherly pushing) to sign up for marching band. Sarah played flute during middle school but was not in band freshman year, so in some ways, she was back at square one in tenth grade. I told her the same thing happened to me when I was a geek in middle school, took a year off, and then decided to rejoin their ranks. It can be a difficult time.

She attended a week of band boot camp last June and got a very good start. But in August, at the end of two grueling weeks of full training, she didn’t get a spot on the team. Most rookies don’t, but this was especially hard since she, as a sophomore, didn’t feel like a “rookie” at all. Dejected at the prospect of standing on the sidelines as an alternate for the season, she wasn’t sure what to do next. I told her the same thing happened to me when I didn’t get my geek placement and I, too, ended up as an alternate.

So one door closes. Crushed, she dragged herself back to practice the very next day. Surprisingly, she returned home very excited about something. “We need to talk,” she announced that evening after dinner. Apparently two color guard spots were now vacant and she could try out if she wanted to. And right on cue, another door opens. (And just like that, she’s suddenly out of flute-playing and into flag-waving.)

Rewind to 2006. The band director submitted a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade application. Each year parade organizers select just ten bands from the hundreds of applications received. So you can imagine how excited everyone was when we received word our school had been selected to march in this year’s event.

Mom will not deny that one of the reasons for encouraging Sarah to rejoin band was indeed to participate in the big parade. Mom will neither deny that she was hoping to tag along for the ride. Dad won’t deny that he thought this trip was waaaaaay out of budget. But dad doesn’t actually get any say in matters like this, therefore, we boarded a plane last Monday and headed north-east.

And now you know why Back to the Fridge ran re-runs all last week. Further, given the fact that the title of today’s post ends in “Part 1”, you now have a pretty good idea of what’s in store the rest of this week.

Onederland Update

The trip was going to be a double-whammy on the diet front. I mean, things were already going to be bad enough with the looming holiday, but then to overlay a vacation on top of that? It was almost too much to bear. Fortunately, things (for the most part) worked out.

The purple line is my weight. There are only two readings: one ‘before’ and one ‘after’. It’s very strange not weighing myself every day and frankly, I wish I could have. I’d love to see the data. (Yes, although I’ve long left high school, I’m still a geek. But at least I’m no longer an alternate.)

The green line is my caloric intake. In order to meet my generic “pound a week” goal, I have to (currently) consume roughly 2000 calories a day. This means my “no loss zone” is between 2000 and 2500. That zone is shown in green on this alternate view of the week:

I won’t go into the specifics of each day until we get to that day. (Otherwise I won’t have anything to write about all week.) So consider this chart a bit of foreshadowing.

Although, to completely reveal this week’s twist ending, you’ll see I only went up a pound. That’s good. (That’s very good, actually. I can count on a two-fingered hand the number of years that’s happened.) But please hold your applause. You’ll see why as the week goes on.

In other news, no, I can’t believe it’s December already. And, no, I can’t believe it’s almost 2009. Someone get me out of this time machine.