Thursday, July 31, 2008

Photo Story Friday and The Infamous Collision

PhotoStory Friday
Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

This is the result of Smoochie running around his grandparents' garage one way at full speed while his cousin ran around from the other direction. Since the collision took place on the opposite corner of the garage, no one witnessed it. We did, however, hear a commotion followed by a heart wrenching scream from Smoochie. His cousin was just enough shorter than him to hit him squarely between the eyes when they collided. Fortunately, his cousin was mostly ok, but Smooch did not fare quite as well. He had an immediate goose egg followed by two black eyes as the goose egg began to drain.

This picture was taken mere minutes after the collision. It is one of my favorite pictures (I know it seems kind of mean) because of the emotions that show on his face. There was no fake posing for the camera, no pagent smile, just pure raw Smoochie feeling some pretty pure raw emotions. Smoochie has been pretty good (I’m knocking on wood here) and has not broken any bones or required any stitches. To me, this picture represents one of the few moments in his life when I would have loved to make his world better with a magic kiss, a band-aid, and a hug.

Mommy's Vacation Day

Dearest Sweet Children,

Your mother is writing you this letter to inform you that she is taking a vacation day today. She will not wipe runny noses, and will most definitely not load the dishwasher. If you would like to leave your matchbox cars all over the living room floor for others to step on that is fine, but do not look upon her in wonderment when you accidentally step on one with your pudgy little feet. I fully hope lunch can make itself, but in the off chance that it won’t, there’s slices of cheese and a jar of strawberry jelly in the refrigerator that should give you sustenance until your father comes home.

Some of you, over the course of the day, may find yourselves desperate for a diaper change. I repeat. MOMMY IS ON VACATION. ( She’s curled up on the couch under a blanket daydreaming about scubal activities in the Caribbean.) I’m sure if you grab a diaper and stand on the curb, some strange passer by will fall pray to your big baby blues and assist you in the changing of said diaper.

Should you feel the need to wash your face, stay away from the running water. There are baby wipes on the changing table. Should you feel the need to play in the running water anyway, that’s ok, because mommy has already punched out for her vacation day. She’ll worry about the mess tomorrow.

If there is an emergency you can reach mommy by screaming key words such as “fire!” and “call 911!’, otherwise save it for daddy. She’ll be checking back in with you all tomorrow. Please don’t feed the dog peanut butter, and be sure and watch all the cartoons you would like.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Weight Loss Wednesday


At least it wasn't another gain. And I managed to get in 3 pretty decent workouts. Next week I'm shooting for 5 workouts. It's not as easy as it sounds- Hubby might start veto-ing my workout time because every time I leave Critter alone with Daddy, Critter screams like there's an axe murderer in the house. The. Entire.Time.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

My (Most of the Time) Filter

OK. It’s deep dark confession time. Prepare for it because this one’s a doozie.

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

I’m not perfect.

Oh yeah, I know I don’t usually go hinting away on my bloggy pages about the fact that my back yard and driveway currently have weeds that are quickly becoming quite Little Shop of Horror-ish. I don’t sit around and brag about the fact that it took me 4 days to empty my son’s Seattle suitcase and put his clothing away. And I try not to bore others with the fact that I have serious storage issues and there is currently a tub full of children’s blankets and sheets staring at me from the middle of my kitchen floor because for the life of me, I can’t figure out a place to store them. But there it is in all of its glory, and instead of keeping it drawered up in my refrigerator like my precious Mikes Hard Lemonade, I’m venting. It feels pretty good, actually. Hang on, because here’s another doozie.

I have sworn, on occasion, in front of my children. I am not proud of it. I actually try very hard in general not to swear. I’m not the type of person who has the stealth to incorporate four letter bombs into everyday conversation and have it come across as nonchalant. On the rare occasions when things slip out, it comes across more like a bunny rabbit on full attack with a battle axe. In fact, my swearing is so out of character that I usually don’t even have to try not to.

However, with my children around, I have to remind myself occasionally to use my filter, and sometimes that reminder, my brain, and my mouth are completely out of synch. But my son always pays attention and never misses a beat.

One morning I was driving my son to daycare before going to work. Of course, I was running a bit late- Smoochie has one speed only, and it’s in his very own time zone. I was waiting at a green light for the oncoming traffic to clear out so I could make a left hand turn. The last car was making a right hand turn, and I was waiting for him to approach the intersection and do so.

I think this gentleman was out for his weekly scenic drive, because smack dab in the middle of a frantic Wednesday morning he was taking his sweet old time. Now by that point, I had wrestled a slow poke child into readiness throughout the morning, and worked out and got myself ready as well. I was trying my darndest to not be late for work, which was almost always futile. My patience wagon was rolling along a rutted road with a broken axle. I lost my patience and went to say “Hurry up, Jackass.”

But my filter kicked in. Halfway through my sentence, I realized there was an impressionable 4 year old boy sitting in my back seat. I managed to stop myself mid sentence, and it came out, “Hurry up, Jack…” A nanosecond later from the back seat my son asked me incredulously like I’d just produced Mr. Chuck-E-Cheese himself from my pocket, “Mom you know his name?"

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Photo Story Friday

PhotoStory Friday
Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Critter has recently discovered his feet. They're the greatest toy ever made. It's three toys in one- in the air, in the hand, in the mouth. I've tried, and I honestly can't pay for better baby entertainment. Although, I'm not really sure who's more entertained- Critter, or me.

My World

We walked to the farmer's market today. Actually, it was so small they should call it the 5 farmers booths. It was a beautiful day, though, and we found some flowers at a park to enjoy. These two little guys make up a bigger part of my world than I ever thought imaginable.


This is the very wash cloth I used to bathe Critter with last night. I've used it many times now, but only just noticed something.

I'm pretty sure this little advertisement was aimed at me because of, well, Critter's lack of reading skills and all. What's next? Preparation H advertisements on the back of his baby wipes?

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Weight Loss Wednesday


I knew it wouldn't be good. I've been emotional/stress eating for the past 2 days and only got away for one workout. I feel like Dora from Finding Nemo- "Just keep swimming swimming swimming." Which is what I'll do.

Does anyone have any tried and true tips to avoid emotional eating and break the habit?

Sunday, July 20, 2008

It's Who I Am

“Our Name is Our Virtue” – from I’m Yours by Jason Mraz

I’m pretty sure my name is a virtue. At the very least, it’s a moral value. If I leave a comment somewhere in blog land, if a reader checks out my profile, my name is left as Chas. To friends and family I am known as Chas. Short for Chasity, not Charles, because well, Charles would be a bit strange for a little girl name. Chasity’s weird enough thank you.

I have to come forth and be completely honest here. As a little girl, I hated my name with all that I am. It’s rarely pronounced correctly, and spelling it correctly is about as common as a blue moon. Not to mention the whole Chastity Belt similarity. (Sorry, I'm not linking to that one. Feel free to Google it for yourself if you really need to.) As it turns out, Chastity belt was actually a little too sophisticated for elementary school boys. They zoned in on ChasTITy instead.

My friends and family have always just called me Chas. I never told them to call me that, it just happened. At the beginning of each school year my teachers always asked each one of us if there was a particular name we’d like to be called instead of our given name- Brad instead of Bradley and so on. I decided to just make things easier in 5th grade, and asked my teacher to “just call me Chas.” He couldn’t say it right. He kept calling me Chaz, and no matter how many times I tried to correct him, it would still come out ChaZ. I swear by the end of the year every time he said my name all I heard was the z. Each time my name was said, the z got louder. In my head it sounded like a bumble bee the size of a 747 was coming in for a landing. I was close to 30 before I asked anyone else to “just call me Chas.”

I swore the day I turned 18 I was going to legally have my name changed. I didn’t even have a new name picked out because I really didn’t care. I was just going to pick a name people could pronounce, and spell, and it would clear off all of my problems like a magic eraser.

Here’s the kicker, though. By the time my 18th birthday arrived, I had grown rather attached to my name. It’s different. It’s unusual. When someone yelled out, “Hey Chasity!” I never had to look around to see if they actually meant me or someone else in the room.

By that age I had realized my name is a massive part of the person I have become.
I take teasing in stride, and learned a long time ago if I took it personally, I would be miserable for all but a nanosecond of my lifetime.

I am patient, and that skill is further developed each time I try to introduce myself.

I generally know how to pick my battles, a skill that was learned in junior high at my dentist’s office when I couldn’t convince the receptionist my name was NOT Christy. I think I told her 4 or 5 times what my name was and thought she finally got it- until she called Christy to the back.

I am a great listener, for I never know if anyone is going to call me Chas, Chasity, Christy, Charity, Cathy, or something completely new.

I believe that there are many factors in our lives that shape who we are as individuals, and that our name is a large one. That’s why I love that line so much from the song I’m Yours. It brought it all home for me. Our Name is Our Virtue.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Woodfield Window Shopping

I am the type of person who enjoys a good window shopping excursion. I don’t always have to spend money, and often times if I do, it is not very much. I love to look and daydream about items it would be nice to have, and daydream I do.

One evening a few years ago I was at the mall with my mom and a friend of hers. We’d been out to dinner, and the mall was just next door, so we decided a little window shopping excursion was just what we needed. We hit the mall suburban style.

I grew up in an area where the nearest mall was a minimum of 45 minutes away. A trip to the mall meant a whole day was usually planned around it, and we didn’t make that trip unless we had an absolute need to. Normally, this was right around the middle of August each year, so we could hit JC Penney’s for school clothes. Regardless, there was a need required for a trip to the mall.

Suburban style is a whole lot different. When I moved to the Northwest Suburbs at age 15, it meant that I was exactly 10 minutes from a shopper’s paradise- Woodfield Mall. This mall, in a simple explanation, is huge. And the absolutely glorious part was that I no longer had to wait until I had a desperate need for something only a mall can offer in order to traipse through one. I could make a quick trip for one thing if I wanted. Or I could just go hang out for no other reason than to pass time. That’s suburban style- hanging out at a mall for no other reason than to pass the time, or for something to do in the suburbs. After all, shopping is a sport.

This particular evening, we walked around the mall a little bit, browsing through the larger department stores, laughing and talking about girly things. And as we meandered through the other shoppers at the mall, we stopped outside a fine jewelry store to look at the jewelry on display.

I have always loved jewelry but unfortunately I have super sensitive skin. This leaves nothing but the expensive jewelry available to me, but unfortunately it’s usually not in my budget. All the same, I absolutely love to look.

I remember the display like it was yesterday, with all sorts of precious stones sparkling and shining. Opals and Rubies. Sapphires and my favorite, emeralds.

As my eyes meandered over the jewelry, I saw it. It was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. The emerald was so green it sucked me into it. The diamonds on the sides sparkled so much they could have had their very own light source. Oh, it was so divine. I bent over for a closer look.


My head hit the glass window of the display, and I really didn’t realize what had happened until it had bounced off and wound up a good foot and a half away from the glass. The sound of the loud whack found itself into my ears, and as I mentally assessed the situation it sunk in what I had just done. Essentially, I had just head-butted the window outside the jewelry store.

By this point, I am starting to get a little embarrassed by my obvious lack of awareness of my physical surroundings, and look to see if anyone had noticed. Maybe it wasn’t that bad- maybe no one noticed.

I looked up, inside the store, and found a dozen pairs of eyes all focused on me. And not an encouraging smile to be seen. I could have been a rare gorilla on display at the zoo. I turned a shade resembling cabernet, and tried blend back in with all the other shoppers walking through the mall.

I found my mother and her friend around the corner of the store- both laughing hysterically. My mom was actually laughing so hard her legs failed to hold her up and she was sitting on the floor.

And this is another one of my many most embarrassing moments. I truly wish I could say it never happened again…

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Wonder Woman

It was every parent’s nightmare. It was her nightmare, too. She was pregnant at 14 years old. She waited to tell her parents. She waited until she couldn’t hide it from them any longer. She was showing and it would be all too obvious very soon. She knew deep in her heart she might be a great disappointment to her parents.

She finally chose to face the music and tell her parents. Against their wishes, she made the decision to keep the baby. By the time the baby was born, she would be 15, and he would be 16. And she would step up to the plate and be a mom- way too early, much too soon. She would change diapers and soothe the late night crying and bathe and care for a baby when she should be worrying about who to date, what lip gloss to wear, and how she did on her math test. Her decision meant she would have to drop out of school and get a job. She wasn’t even old enough to drive yet. But somehow she knew she had to be old enough to be a mother.

Her parents wanted them to get married. His parents said there was no way they would force children into marriage, and that if or when a marriage happened between their two children, it would be a decision they would make themselves, not their parents. There were lots of tears and lots of disappointment for a childhood lost, but when it came down to baby’s arrival day, all the parents would be as supportive as they possibly could be.

He stood by her and soon they had a little girl. All of the sudden their tumultuous teenage years were splattered with dirty diapers and spit up. They had to grow up faster than any child should. She had to face the responsibility of raising a child while still growing up and learning herself. He had to do the same, and it was a struggle for them both.

She could have passed off the responsibility to someone else. She could have let her parents raise the baby, or his parents, for that little girl quickly worked her way into the whole family’s heart. However, she had this stubborn determination to make it work and be independent no matter how difficult the road may be. So she worked as hard as she could, earning next to nothing to try and make ends meet. Having not finished high school, she didn’t make much money.

She stayed in the relationship which was on-again-off-again like most teenage relationships are. One minute totally in love, the next totally in hate. There were arguments and tears, but there was beauty and laughter mixed in too.

When he got accepted into the Marines, she followed him to California. Things soon became more difficult as she realized she was pregnant again. Her own mother passed away around her 18th birthday, leaving her 6 months pregnant and grieving fiercely. And then they made the decision to marry. At 18 she married the father of her soon to be two little girls.

Things continued down the same path with the two of them trying to be as grown up as possible in a difficult world of parenting, living hand to mouth, and often wondering where the money to pay rent would appear from. They both tried their best to raise two little girls the only way they knew how- to learn as they went along.

One day no one had planned on, he was in a car accident. It seemed he would be OK, but there was internal bleeding that no one knew was there. He passed away, leaving her 20 years old and grieving the loss of her husband, with two daughters to raise on her own.

And so she did. She did the best she could, sometimes just living each day from start to finish and nothing beyond. She made mistakes but she did a lot of things right. She missed a lot of moments from their childhood due to working hard to support herself and her girls. She went back to night school and got her high school diploma. She missed school plays and track meets. She missed lazy summer days and volunteering in the classrooms on holidays. But she sacrificed all of that out of pure love for her little girls.

And with a lot of prayer, hard work and perseverance, she now has two grown daughters with 5 beautiful grandchildren between them. That's a lifetime of accomplishment for not being 50 yet.

She is my mother. I am her oldest daughter, and can not tell you how proud I am of her. Not everyone would have made the decision she chose to make, or stepped up to the parenting plate at such a young age. I know that her decision is not the right one for everyone. Being a teenage parent is not glamorous. Being a parent at any age is the most challenging and long term job a person can undertake. She had so many curve balls thrown at her early on she could have easily thrown her hands in the air, and screamed “I give up.” But she didn’t, and that makes me unique and grateful for a childhood and life I might not have had at all, or might have had with a completely different family.

My grandparents (his parents) once told me that they believe all things happen for a reason. The great disappointment of him having children so young turned into one of the greatest blessings of their life. They realized after his death at 21 years of age that my sister and I were meant to be. I think of this often, as well as the best advice I’ve ever received from my mother. She once told me the following:

“God will not give you more than you can handle. Put your faith in him, and no matter how dark things seem for you, and even though you don’t know how, you will make it through with his help.”

I have watched through example how my mother has lived her life according to this advice. As a parent, she tried her best and loved us both unconditionally and that’s all I could have asked for. That makes her my Wonder Woman.

**This post was created with the intention of entering July's Write-Away Contest hosted by Scribbit, one of the blogs on my daily read list. It was a fun process, whether I win or not, and I will definately enter again.

Weight Loss Wednesday

It's time for the Wednesday Weigh In.


I'm happy, excited, encouraged, back on track, and oh, did I say happy? I'm doinga little dance of joy right now, its probably a good thing you can't see it. I'll take it.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Smell This

In high school I vaguely remember watching a movie of sorts in English class, and having a head full of little paper wads when the lights came back on. Bonehead was “watching” the very same movie directly behind me.

I remember being chased with a spider once within the first month of marriage. I think I might have either broken or spilled something in my attempt to get away from it, so it hasn’t happened again.

Over the years there have been many instances of being picked on, but they come and go. His most recent method? Sweaty workout clothes.

Inside Bonehead lives the heart and comic genius of a 9 year old boy who thinks trying to get me to smell his “sweaty ass pad” is hysterical.

“Here, smell this.”

“Come on, you know you want to.”

In general, I am a pushover. I have a hard time saying no to all but my son. Sometimes I even have a hard time saying no to him.

But I can safely say that a good solid whiff of workout clothes that even if currently dry were at one time dripping wet is not something I desire, nor do I crave that kind of intimacy from my husband. I’m pretty darn certain that in this instance I’m not EVER going to cave and say, “Oh OK big boy bring it on.”

And yet, I do think he’s so desperate for me to smell the darn things I almost got chased with them this afternoon. Or maybe the call to pick on Chas has been dormant for too long and must be made up for.

Either way, I can say one thing with certainty. If I were ever faced with making the decision between being chased with a spider or smelling “the pad”, I would most certainly choose to implode.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Arooooooga! Aroooooga!

Dog names that will have your neighbors questioning your sanity when you have to roam the neighborhood barefoot and in your jammies calling for your canine friend.

1. Arooga
2. Yowsah
3. Sanity
4. Marbles
5. Alien
6. Boogadie Boo
7. Vodka
8. Midlife Crisis
9. Invasion
10. Quack

Friday, July 11, 2008

Meet Florida

From left to right: Bonehead, Smooch, Florida(who is waving at us), and Steve

We adopted Florida in May of 2007 while on vacation in New Jersey. I'm just teasing- it was actually in Florida- just as his name implies. From the moment Florida came home with us, he was part of the family. He’s gone everywhere with Smoochie (except school- I had to put one of my push-over feet down). He goes out to dinner with us, he helps us pick out movies at the video store frequently, and he even hangs out on my steering wheel and “pretends to drive” while we are grocery shopping. Recently, Florida traveled to St. Louis for a mini-vacay.

The morning before Smoochie left for Seattle, the whole family piled on our queen sized bed for a little family hang out time. In our home it's known as "poke and annoy" and involves index fingers and giggling. That would be me, Bonehead, Smoochie, Critter, and Florida. We then all went our separate ways and I packed Smooch up for his trip.

Florida remained out of sight snuggling on our bed and didn’t make the trip. We haven’t received a panicked phone call yet from Smoochie, so I’m assuming it’s not the crisis I thought it might be. All the same, I have a sneaking suspicion we may very well be initiating Seattle into our family soon.

Here’s a confession: In the past year and a half, I have hugged, kissed, bathed, band-aided, washed, dried, read to, scolded, laughed at, baby-sat, and diapered Florida. In the past 2 nights, I have snuggled him close because I miss Smoochie too much. I guess it was a blessing he got left behind because I’m realizing I might probably maybe (just a wee bit) have some inner attachment/separation issues…
When did he get old enough for a 2 week vacation without Mom & Dad?

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Weight Loss Wednesday


+4 this week.

I knew it wasn't going to be pretty. I caved like a sand castle at high tide. I can't even think of anything to defend myself. No excuses, I floundered. This week I'm re-focusing and hopping right back on the healthy train. I'm thinking of riding a 46 mile ride in a couple of weeks, which will be a major challenge for me. I know I can do 20 miles without seizing like a blown engine, so the next challenge is 46. I can already tell you what will be crossing my mind at mile#23...

Oofta, what ON EARTH was I thinking?

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

A Field Guide to Parenting


1. If you walk into your baby’s room, and all you see sticking out of the bassinet are kneecaps and elbows, it might be time to put the crib together.

2. When your bassinet wobbles like it’s standing on chopsticks, it might be time to build that crib.

3. If your little guy flushes the toilet, brushes his teeth, walks to his room and pushes his bassinet to you so you can tuck him in conveniently, it just might be time to pull out the crib.

4. If putting your child to bed resembles stuffing a marshmallow into a pen cap, it might be time to put the crib together.

5. If your child wakes you up at 2am yelling in a baritone, “Mom, you forgot to shut the light off again”, it might be time for the crib.

6. If your child pushes a pilsner glass toward you and asks for another “bottle” it’s probably time for the crib.

7. If your baby’s booties are size 10 ½ men’s, it might be time for the crib.

8. If your child asks if he can take his Nintendo DS to bed with him, it could be time for the crib.

9. If your bassinet resembles a hammock, it is safe to say its time to switch to a crib.

10. When baby’s bed time routine includes a shave, it’s definitely time for the crib.

Guess what we’ll be doing this weekend?
UPDATE: We live in a very small home and we are bursting at the seams. So even though my sweet husband wanted to put the crib together BEFORE Critter arrived, I told him no. We still don't have room for a crib, but upon seeing Critter's hand outside the bassinet this morning, I realized it was time to make room for the crib. Maybe. Probably.

Monday, July 7, 2008


Wow. I didn’t intend to go into the 4th of July holiday weekend neglecting my blog so severely. The 4th is always a little crazy for us, but I had no idea what we were in store for. Now that I’m home, awake, and have two hands to type with (for a brief period of time at least) here are some of the events that kept us so busy over the weekend.

Friday the 4th included a 1 hour drive to Grandma and Grandpa’s, a 17 mile bike ride for me and Bonehead, and a pretty darned good fireworks display.

I give kudos to my bike for carrying my post baby butt 17 miles relatively comfortably. Any bike that can reach speeds of 18+ mph with me on top without disintegrating is an awesome bike in my book. And I love Bonehead to death for letting me set the pace and not complaining. It was fun although there are two words I have thought many times over since the ride ended. Ouch BikeButt.

We left Smooch at Grandma’s so they could fly Saturday to Seattle for two weeks. I already miss him enough to cry. I do hope he has fun. We used to live out there way back in our just married days. I loved watching the sun rise over one mountain chain, and set behind another.

4 of us drove to Grandma’s and 3 came home. Time of arrival was somewhere between midnight and 1am.

Saturday we were up early to accomplish household chores before going out on a friend’s boat for the day.

Critter didn’t particularly ENJOY boating. In fact, he cried exuberantly. I love boating, but critter will be left on land with a care giver the next time we shove off. At least until next summer and we can try again.

I discovered something worse than a mosquito bite on the foot. Mosquito bites covering tops and bottoms of the feet are most unpleasant. My feet have been in a constant state of “rub” since Saturday night.

After another hour drive home from a different direction, our arrival time home Saturday night was I think around 1am.

Sunday we were back up early to drive another hour. We met up with my best friend from high school who we haven’t seen in about 10 years. I have to admit it was super nice to catch up. I forgot what a fun and interesting person she is.

My sister was kind enough to watch Critter for us for a couple of hours so we could catch up properly. I used it as an excuse to go swimming with my sister and nieces Sunday afternoon.

I think Critter was tired of running everywhere because even though it was his first time swimming, he fell asleep on my shoulder in the pool. So he slept on a towel in the shade for the remaining time we were there.

We finally called it quits and turned down a dinner invitation from Bonehead’s dad and drove yet another hour home.

We got home a little after 7 last night and ordered take out for dinner.

The end result of a super busy and fun weekend? A severely neglected blog, feet so itchy I long for an s.o.s. pad to scratch them, bikebutt, and sheer exhaustion.

I’m so happy its Monday and all I have to do is housework.

Thursday, July 3, 2008


Children are wonderfully creative. Contrary to what I once believed, I am discovering they put a lot of thought into their questions. Here are a few questions I’ve been asked by Smoochie- some within the past few days.

Smooch: Mom, did we buy our house?
Me: Why yes we did, sweetie.
Smooch: Well then, where’s the house store?
Me: Uh...

Smooch: How do weather people tell what the weather is going to be in the afternoon?
Me: Uh...

Smooch: Can I play PINK-a-boo with Critter?
Me: Of course.

Smooch: Do ants carry bombs?
Me: No, why do you ask that?
Smooch: That round thing on their back looks like a bomb
Me: That’s their butt honey.
Smooch: (giggling) You said butt.
Me: Uh...

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Weight Loss Wednesday

Yeay!!Yeay!! Hip Hip Hooray!!

-2 pounds this week.

It's not -5, but I will take it. That brings the running total to -5 pounds all together.

For anyone addicted to Starbucks Caramel Frappucino (me) here's an incentive.

Venti Caramel Frappucino with whipped cream: 500 calories

Venti Light Caramel Frappucino with no whipped cream: 220 calories

I know it's good I've made the switch, but it would be even better if I could "just say no". Instead I'm busy telling myself that 1/2 the calories does not mean I can have twice as many........

How about we shoot for 5 next week, bako1964?