Hey Jerks, I'm back!

I'M SO FREAKING SORRY, OKAY? I AM BLOGFAIL.

First and foremost, I must apologize to CARRIE (pictured left, with me, at a Books of Wonder party), who is the one person who reads my blog like it's a religion, and I may have caused her a crisis of faith. I AM SORRY.

But, seeing as it's about time for the obligatory New Year's post, I'm going to just gutspill here for a mo, if that's cool wit'chya'll.

I had a pretty ups-and-downs-y 2009. Went through the most devastating breakup of my life to date, lost a job that meant the world to me, and am currently working to re-establish my identity as a member of the bookworld, grown-up society, and an independent tough chick. Hey, I always tell myself I've been through worse and can come out on top, but looking for a job is not fun for anyone, especially when your talents are in the arts. Yuck. Of course I have amazing friends, family, and colleagues and I can't stop being thankful for all of them. My BFF Amelia and my awesome new boyfriend, Jorge, are ridiculously awesome. Also, my TX bff crew - Misha, Tim, Ali (pictured right with me and her bday pressie by Micol Ostow), Tony, Clay, Katy, Sarah, James & all y'all.

My grandparents are amazing people and there's really nothing more I can say about them. I love them and owe them more than even they know.

Thanks mucho to the support of (shout-out time) some of the fabbity fab crew of the Austin Kidlit scene. Folks like Cynthia Leitich Smith, Jenny Ziegler, Varian Johnson, K.A. Holt, P.J. Hoover, Liz Garton Scanlon, April Lurie, and countless others who tell me every time they see me how my time is coming and that patience is a virtue and that I am an appreciated and loved member of the community.

Also, the YALITCHAT community, both on twitter and Ning are AMAZING. Georgia McBride really got things rolling there, and it kicks serious butt. It's full or resources for both published and unpublished writers in all stages of their careers, and it's growing every day. VISIT, OKAY!?

Among my other new Twitter/Facebook friends are Lynne and Shelli and Jamie and Jennifer and OtherEmily and Janni (if you haven't read Janni's book Bones of Faerie, you're dead to me until you do) who are supportive and full of information and love. Great internets BFFs if there ever were any. And lets not forget my fellow Mainer Carrie Jones, who writes about pixies in Need and Captivate and you MUST READ THEM, okay? I think she's my secret twin.

And, oh wait, there's the amazing JESSICA LEE ANDERSON who is my one-person starving artist support group. We meet regularly to talk about our writing, obvs, but also about how frustrating it can be to BE a struggling artist (because even tho Jess is getting glowing reviews these days, she assures me that my feelings of despair and insecurity are natural and normal and a part of the process).

I know that the book I wrote this year is important and going somewhere. I'm the good kind of nuts. Nutty about my book, and about getting it into the hands of readers, nutty about changing the world one reader at a time. Goals for my first book? Taking stigmas on certain topics down a notch. Killing high school stereotypes while maintaining the fact that high school is a struggle for even the most "cool" and "together" person you know.

Let it be known that I am writing this blog from a wild state of mind known as SUDDEN INSPIRATION and EARLY IN THE DAY JOIE DE VIVRE.

I have some goals for this year. We all do, right? Call them resolutions if you want, but resolutions just make me feel like the 10-year-old my mom sat down with to make a list. A list with things like "stop picking my nose" and "clean my room every day." LAME.

My one New Year's Resolution is this: LEARN TO PLAY THE UKULELE. I must admit, I was inspired by the fabbity fab Kristin Clark Venuti, who wrote the best middle grade novel I've read in YEARS, Leaving the Bellweathers. When she came to Austin she played a song on her uke about her book. It was hysterical and awesome and I want to DO IT. Who knows...by this time next year I could have my first Ukulele singer/songwriter album out. Or, you know, at least know a few cords.

But I do have GOALS and EXPECTATIONS for this year. I will get an agent. I've gotten some positive and critical feedback from some well-respected agent-types which gives me the confidence to back up my claim that I WILL, yes WILL, get an agent this year. I also believe that I will sell my completed YA manuscript and possibly my picture book ms as well.

I also expect that I will finish my next YA this year. It's a book that I, unintentionally, perhaps, started writing when I was 16 for a competition in high school. I did not win, but the story stuck to me and I've tweaked it to the point that it is unrecognizable as the original story. Anyhoo, it is a story that is important to me and I think it's going to kick serious ass. It takes place in the town where I went to college, New London, Connecticut. I think New Londy is sort of an underdog, and I'm excited to set my book there. I just have to get my crime story brain going, as well as some supernatural elements working overtime. Oh yeah.

My other major GOAL is to submit a full poetry collection and find a publisher for it, or at least get feedback. I have a lot of work under my belt in the field of poetry, and it's freaking time. My work rocks, and it needs to be out there, and I'm not going to self-publish. Heck no.

Some New Years dreams? I think it might be kind of cool to get some of my photographs in a gallery. Unlikely, but it could happen. I'd like to write some short stories for children and submit them to magazines or anthologies - some of my local buds and I have an idea for an anthology to work on, but, who knows where that will go.

And, most importantly, I'd like to spend some time this year reconnecting with friends whom I love but have fallen out of touch with. I suck. I'm sorry. Let's catch up, okay? Email me. We'll chat.

Seeing as I've let blogging go by the wayside...

Quick announcement: Two of my poems are in the current issue of Orbis, a quarterly journal based in the UK. I'd sent in work a while ago and had nearly forgotten about it when their lovely editor emailed me to let me know they were interested. Hoorah! The issue came in the mail today and it looks great - you might should (Texan lingo) pick it up!

In other news, I am so over moving. I feel like I've been moving since January, and, in a way, have been. It took half of February to get all of our stuff out of the old place and smoosh it into the new place. I sort of hate it - tiny kitchen, tiny bedrooms, not enough room for all my books. For shame! So please excuse the lack of forthcoming recipes...until our next move in July.

Having consulted various coworkers, it seems that most people have a box or two that doesn't get unpacked every time they move. For me, this box has multiplied. I've moved about four times in the last five years and with every move comes another box. It tends to be a box of keepsakes - stuff that I don't need but want - that has no place on display. I.e. notebooks I kept in college and mix tapes from my high school boyfriend (sorry, Mark).

But knowing we won't be staying in our current place for very long, Mark and I have been ridiculously unmotivated when it comes to unpacking. I tried unpacking the kitchen before giving in to frustration - where will I put my breadmaker, my kitchenaid mixer, my food processor, my toaster(s), my microwave, my electric kettle, etc etc with just one outlet...over the sink? So depressing.

And of course most of my shoes are still in boxes - I mostly wear sneakers or boots to work, since I'm on my feet all day, so no need to unpack the stilettos, right? Same for most of my going out clothes and jewelry. Actually, the only boxes that I've completely unpacked are books, and only fiction. While nonfiction has been confined to Mark's closet, the kids books and adult literature are on the shelves in alphabetical order.

Naturally living with so many of my posessions packed away has lead me to wonder if I have too much stuff. Or rather, it's made this wondering a little louder. I'm a packrat and a materialist and I was always that kid in college who managed to fit way more in a dorm room than seemed natural. I've been considering the idea of getting rid of some things, but usually this comes down to the sentimental value and the nagging what-if possibilities that I'll need said things in the future. I'm hopeless.

At least I'll have things ready to go in July. The only thing worse than unpacking is packing, right?

Things I want to do this year

I don't really like making new year's resolutions. I think that those sorts of decisions and goals shouldn't be reserved to a one-time, year-long commitment. Also, I don't like setting myself up to fail. I like setting goals that I know I can reach. Call me gutless, but that's how I do.

Of course, I have some fairly lofty goals for myself in the coming year. I want to finally finish at least one of my manuscripts so I can start rewrites. Maybe it won't be the first novel I publish, but it will be the first novel I finish, not counting the 300-handwritten-page epic I wrote about Hanson when I was 16. Oh yes, you read that right. Details may or may not be available upon request. Sadly, the notebooks in which I wrote this masterpiece are somewhere in my parents' house in Maine. The world suffers.

I also promised the boyfriend I would learn to drive this year. I'm really really REALLY terrified of driving. I took driver's ed. just after turning 17. FYI my birthday is in December (I like presents) and I grew up in suburban Maine. Do the weather-math and you'll realize exactly what I was up against. Throw in my crotchety, nervous instructor and my soon-to-be-diagnosed bipolar disorder (questions welcome) and panic disorder (funsies!), you can see why I remain a pedestrian at 26. That's why I moved to New York after college. However, I now live in Austin, and Mark is sick of driving me everywhere. Crap. Pray for me/send any extra Valiums this way.

I want to learn to read faster. Is this sort of lame? Maybe. If only because I don't know if it's possible. But I basically want to read twice as many books as I read this year (I think it was like 40-50 but I don't have an official count) without actually spending more time reading. This is only because I don't think I could actually spend anymore time reading than I already do while maintaining a social life, eating, sleeping, and keeping my job without ripping a huge hole in the spacetime continuum. Sad Christmas. But my rate of book intake > rate at which I read books > rate at which I get rid of books. In fact that last bit stands at a fairly certain 0. Again, Mark is none too pleased that when we move in a couple of weeks half of our boxes will be filled with words.

I want to walk more. Because a) Texas makes you fat and b) walking makes you un-fat. Also, carbon footprint blah blah blah. I already take the bus a ton, but walking is way more good for you. Plus, we're moving to a neighborhood where walking is more fun. Right now we live off a major roadway and there's really nowhere to walk to. Plus, most of the streets are dead ends and cul-de-sacs. So new place = more walking.

And, of course, an important goal for this year is to finish watching ALL SEVEN SEASONS of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I know I can accomplish this goal, since I bought the ENORMOUS box set and started watching it with Mark last week. Despite his initial protests, he's now as addicted as 16-year-old me was. We are halfway through season two and are having so much fun with it. Why can't Buffy still be on the air? The world would be a better place, you know it.

Christmas is coming, the budget's getting tight!

Last year I posted a run-down of my favorite books to give as Christmas gifts. This year I've been posting book reviews on a fairly regular basis (though I have been sluggish as of late - there will be some to come!), not to mention doing almost daily holiday shopping recommendations over at The BookKids Blog. To avoid major redundancy, her comes a post highlighting some of my favorite cheap-o stocking stuffers.

As a huge fan of Etsy, I can't help but troll their website for trinkets, even though the only stocking I'm stuffing belongs to my grumpy boyfriend. However, there ARE dudely gifts on there, for example these geeky cufflinks. They're legos, for crying out loud! Mark is always rambling about wanting fancy cuff links (God knows why, he never dresses up), and while I hardly think this is what he has in mind, but I think they'll tickle his fancy. This seller also has cuff links featuring Darth Vader, Batman, D20s, scrabble tiles, and typewriter keys. Geek heaven!

Okay, I said I wouldn't mention any books, but I lied. I can't help it - I work at a book store, I write, I live and breathe books. Everyone loves Mr. Men and Little Miss books, though, right? These titles by Roger Hargreaves seem to multiply like rabbits every year, but titles like Mr. Grumpy, Mr. Bump, and Little Miss Bossy are a great way of teasing your loved one on Christmas morning. Mean? Sort of. Hilarious? Definitely. Plus, the retro-factor will get you points with any 20-something. Just don't get Little Miss Plump for your wife or girlfriend - that's a really, truly terrible idea.

Every lady loves jewelry - and Etsy is once again to the rescue! For the literati on your list, many sellers including this one offer Scrabble-tile jewelry. The necklace pictured is just $5, and comes in a little gift bag. You can also build your own Scrabble charm bracelet or pick from several other varieties of Scrabble charms. Other sellers, such as this one re-fashion old jewelry, junk, and eclectica into beautiful new fashion pieces. At a range of prices from budget-savvy to splurge-worthy, any hip fashionista would love one of these unique pieces in her stocking.

Tote bags are really hip right now, and everyone can use one. They also fit into stockings if you roll them up tight (and take up a lot of space, too, for a more "full" look to the final product, you sneaky sneak!) - so why not find one for your giftee? There are tons of awesome ones out there, naturally I'm a huge fan of this giant-cassette shaped tote I found on Amazon. Most grocery stores carry a recyleable tote, too, that would be perfect for the environmentalist in your life, and they tend not to cost more than a couple bucks. Again, Etsy is rife with stocking inspiration, offering tons of screenprinted totes, such as this one, which declares "Make tea, not war." Everyone carries stuff, right?

Now I know a lot of geeks, and ThinkGeek.com has LOTS of solutions to this, er, problem. Whether or not you buy from the website, it's definitely full of ideas. Like astronaut ice-cream, which I've loved since the first time I visited the Boston Science Museum - I think I was eight or so. And what geek hasn't fantasized about being a space cadet? I'm also a huge fan of giant microbes - plush toys shaped like germs and other sick-making miscreants. I've given my mother gonorrhea and my sister cyphillis, and how is that not fun to say? Plus, any hypochondriac deserves to face their fears. And of course, these stickers will make any inanimate object instantaneously awesome. Seriously - grinning stapler? Can of soda with eyeballs? Yes, it's a winner.

Who doesn't love a t-shirt? Companies like Threadless.com offer tons of quirky shirts in sizes for girls and guys (kids, too!), most less than $20. On cafepress.com, you can custom-print your own t-shirt, or look for something wacky & fun already available. Thanks to the internet, there's no shirt that isn't available. For example, my boyfriend's favorite shirt, pictured at left, with the slogan "We do things my way or the Hemingway." He's already worn one into oblivion, so if he's lucky, there'll be a new one in his stocking this year.

There's plenty of stuff to make, too. Every baker needs a few dozen more potholders (seriously!), every music nerd loves mix tapes/cds, every glasses-wearer needs polishing wipes. Worst case scenario, do what my dad does when he's in charge of stockings: run down to the drug store on Christmas eve and just buy everything. It works for him.

Where Did Halloween Go?

When I lived in Brooklyn, I didn't expect many trick-or-treaters. I lived in an apartment building in an urban area - I can see why parents didn't bring their kids to my door. But now that I live in a house in Texas, I figured we'd get TONS of Halloweenies last night. Right? I mean, we're practically in the 'burbs!

Mark and I sat at home last night and waited. My parents came over (they're visiting from Maine) and we made burgers on the grill (Mark makes great burgers) and watched Scrubs on DVD (the musical episode, specifically) and waited some more. Not one child rang our doorbell. I was so excited to see the costumes. I figured that even though we're in a cul-du-sac off a main road, there are enough kids around here (our neighbor even runs a daycare!) that we would need two huge bags of candy to fill their bags.

And now I have those bags of candy - open, even - in my house. Where they will be eaten. By me and Mark. Even we don't need this much candy in our lives! I mean, come on. I bought us a bag of fun-size Almond Joys to not give out at all, to hoard for when all the delicious yummies had been doled out to costumed children. But they never came.

What is up with that? I know it's not like it used to be even ten years ago - we don't know our neighbors like we did then, and lots of parents in my home town were driving their kids around rather than walking by the time I was in high school. But do people not do it at all anymore? My mom tells me that when she was a kid, people gave out homemade treats like popcorn balls and caramel apples. Now we have candy x-rays set up at the police station to make sure sealed candy bars aren't filled with needles. In just two generations, has America gone that sour?

There is cheer on November 1st, though. While I have way too much candy, I did get to go to Texas Book Festival and meet the very cool authors Melissa de la Cruz, Lauren Myracle, Paula Yoo (who loves New London as much as me, yay!) and Jennifer Ziegler (who is from Austin and with whom I've totally talked to at work without knowing it). These ladies have super cool books, and their panel discussion rocked. Paula even gave us a violin performance - some classical favorites followed by some Led Zeppelin! My books are signed and happy now, and I am going to go read them and eat Swedish Fish...if Mark left any for me.

The Possibly Annual Shark Admiration Post

The boyfriend is pretty miffed that it's Shark Week. I'd like to think it's because I'm going to be giving more attention to the boob tube than to him, but I know it's just that he'd rather watch non-shark programming on Discovery. That doesn't, however, mean that I understand his aversion.

Sharks are so amazing. Look at the size of those animals. Look at their enormous mouths, the rows and rows of teeth. The electromagnetic sensors in their snouts. These animals are truly top predators.

So I'm not saying that I want to hang out with sharks. Not without at least some chain mail armor and definitely a dive-cage. As cool as a shark-bite scar would be, with my luck any shark-related injury would lead to shark-related death. I'd be another fun statistic.

But ultimately, sharks are misunderstood. They're pretty smart creatures, and, while not dolphins, I still can't fathom eating them. Endangered sharks are illegally fished in parts of the world for shark fin soup (which I'm pretty sure I wouldn't eat even if I didn't think sharks were too cool to be food), and you know we wouldn't let this go as easily if sharks were cute and furry like a tiger.

In conclusion, here are some things you already know if you've ever watched Shark Week:

- Sharks don't think people taste good and only try to eat us when they think we're something else.
- Bull sharks can go in fresh water and salt water, making them pretty awesome.
- Playing dead is a better defense than thrashing around like an injured animal in case of shark attack.
- It is thought that the sharks that massacred the shipwreck victims of the Indianapolis were Oceanic White Tip.
- The short-finned mako is the world's fastest shark, but it's pretty impossible to see how fast since they're pretty tricky, and pretty strong.
- Sharks can be effectively hypnotized by flipping them upside down. (This is not to say, of course, we should all go out and flip sharks. That wouldn't be very nice...or smart.)

PS, here's a picture of me with shark teeth, courtesy of discovery.com. I think I could have done better with PhotoShop. But, you know, obsession and all...

This is Your Blog on Drugs

That's what I was going to call this blog, anyway. It turns out the prescription painkillers I was prescribed did almost nothing for me. Oh, well.

I was brushing my teeth last week when suddenly a piece of my molar fell off. Well, it more or less peeled off. That's what you get for ignoring your cavities, kiddies. I officially feel like a southwestern hillbilly. Luckily I had two days left of insurance from my previous job in which to have a dental adventure.

I'm petrified of the dentist. Honestly, as far as I'm concerned, anyone who wants to spend their lives inside other people's mouths is either a nut job or a sadist or both. Of course, I have to make the exception for my boyfriend's mum, a dental hygienist, who is one of the nicest people I've ever met. We called her that night at around 1am to find out what we should do, and she didn't even complain about the hour. In any case, I just don't understand the profession, and most of the tools I see in the office resemble torture devices from spy movies. (Remember that tooth-pulling torture guy from Alias? Seriously. Imagine that guy giving you a root canal and that's what I picture every time someone says "dentist.")

I've sort of known for months that I needed a root canal, actually. The molar in question has been in pain for years, following what I think was a botched filling. The dental industry has had so many opportunities to redeem itself, but is constantly failing. This particular incident was in November 2004 - I had three fillings done and, not only did 8 shots of Novocaine not numb me while drilling, the fillings hurt constantly for several months. And it wasn't just a little ache, or a sensation when eating hot or cold. It was a constant throbbing, blinding pain in my teeth.

I called the dentist and she prescribed a painkiller (it was acetaminophen-based, but I don't remember what the naughty stuff in it was. Not codeine, though, since I was too busy in college to be taking anything that would render me useless), which, as per usual, did nothing. I put myself on a regimen of Excedrin, taking two or three pills every four hours, including a dose at bedtime to avoid waking up in excruciating pain (this almost always failed). By January or February I was no longer in constant pain, but still had regular toothaches. Even years later that one molar always bothered me, but I just thought that, with my history of panic and anxiety, it could be psychosomatic.

When a brown spot appeared on the tooth — followed by a crack — I knew I was wrong. So last week when the tooth just finally broke, I wasn't so much shocked but angry that I'd let my fear of dentists get the better of me.

Seriously, though. The dentist guy from Alias. So scary.

So I've got a temporary filling in place and will be getting a crown on Tuesday. I'm not happy about it, but seeing as the only real pain I've had so far from the root canal is from chewing up my own cheek (and let me tell you, that is some serious pain), I'm feeling better about it. But, you know, if I'm going to be doing this whole dental thing on a regular basis, I'd better at least get some fun drugs out of it.

And Then There Were Five

It's official: I'm off to Texas.

If you'd asked me a year ago if I were ever going to move to one of the redneckiest states in the nation, I would have given you the evil eye. However, after having visited the lovely city of Austin, its suburbs, and also having roadtripped to San Antonio, I'm making one of the craziest moves of my life. I blame my boyfriend, Mark, who has enticed me to join him there. Despite my lovely Brooklyn, and all the seductions of the city that never sleeps, he didn't want to come here. And, well, my roots are barely planted, so as a writer, why not wander?

After the initial shock of friends and family wears off, they've been asking a lot of questions. How will you get there? Are you living together? Are you living TOGETHER together? How will you get around? What about your job? And, finally: What about your cats?

As you all know, I have two special cats. On the left, Telemachus, my 16lb+ Maine Coon with a heart of gold and the will to snuggle. On the right, Mocha, the small but plump (about 10lbs, where she should be 6 or 7) Siamese that was abandoned by several owners before finding her way to me and peeing on my carpets and kitchen counter. More on that later. These animals are family and of course are making the trip with me to the Lone Star State. Most likely by plane. Because of Mocha's nervous habit of urinating-at-will, the plane ride is a huge concern. I brought her to the vet on Saturday to find out that, well, she needs kitty Prozac.

I shit you not, the vet gave her antibiotics in case of an infection, but assured me that her pee problems are most likely the result of anxiety. Given her abandonment issues and past on the harsh streets of the Boston 'burbs, I can't say I blame the poor girl. But cat Prozac? I thought this was the sort of thing that only ridiculous celebrities and crazy show dog breeders would recommend, not a nice, friendly neighborhood veterinarian. Mocha has run up a nice list of veterinary bills for me already - her former owner ditched her with me when she moved out of my current apartment. At the time Mocha had ear mites which lead to her scratching her ear so hard she gave herself a hematoma that required surgery. She also needed to be dewormed and demited.

So why, after all this, are Mark and I adopting another cat? No, wait for it:

a three-legged calico kitten whom Mark has insisted upon naming Imogen Beatrice SQL Fleeterson should the adoption papers go through. Yes, this is our soon-to-be-lovespawn.

She's precious! Just look at that face! She apparently suffered some nerve damage to one of her front legs before she was rescued from the streets of Austin and had to have that leg amputated.

I'm a veterinarian's dream.

So, in Austin, I will have three cats, a new house, and a new job. Which, of course, all ties into this post. I want to be a veterinarian. Sort of.

Whenever I take the cats to the vet I wish I'd had the brains to stick to biology and the stomach to do veterinary school. I know I couldn't handle a lot of the things vets do - invasive surgeries, euthanasia, etc. But, why not get a job at a veterinary office? Yes, right now I have a fairly successful publishing career under way. I am looking at a ton of publishing venues from University presses to Austin-based magazines. But if the price is right, so is a change of pace. And, hey, I bet I'd get a good deal on veterinary services for the animals, seeing as I have several sickies to take care of.

Given the fact that I have no experience in animal clinics or shelters, this is just another pipe dream. But, I can volunteer. With any luck Mark will keep me from bringing home every stray animal I encounter, and I can help some orphan cats and pups stay healthy and happy. And, with that in mind, I have two hungry cats waiting for me to finish this up so I can cuddle and feed them. Cat Lady Out.

Body of Evidence

Women are fat.

We're not chubby or plump. We're not hefty or big. We're fat.

Men can be jolly or whatever.

I've decided to be squishy.

Most of the time I'm okay with squishy. My boyfriend is okay with squishy, he's really only ever known me squishy. Of course there's the inevitable return-to-the-hometown desire: I hope everyone else is fatter than me. The truth is, I would love to be tiny for my 10-year reunion. And recently I've discovered that some pants don't fit like they did six months ago. Being happy with your body is just really bad for dieting.

And I don't believe in dieting. This whole culture of feeling in control of our lives by controlling what we eat is weird. The Atkins diet shits me - the guy DIED from cardiac arrest and put a ban on vegetables but people still want to eat steak steak steak to lose weight weight weight. And then there's Weight Watchers where you go to meetings, which, I presume is something like AA:
"Hi, I'm Judy Jones, and I'm FAT."
"Hi Judy."

"Hi, I'm Katie Clarke, and I have been thin for six months!"
(thundering applause)
And of course Nutrisystem, which, apparently, costs a damn fortune (their prices don't include a lot of parts of the "meal" they send you - like the meat).

And there is, of course, the idea of skipping food control all together and going straight to appetite control. Pills! We have a pill for everything — AND YOU NEED THEM. We have celebrities to endorse them all, too. FAT celebrities, who got skinny.

I don't think Americans — Westerners, even — will ever have a healthy relationship with food. We think of food like something naughty, an indulgence, a vice. Food is not something we eat to sustain ourselves, but to satisfy ourselves. And there's no balance. If we are satisfied, we must have had too much. My weight loss plan is this: don't think too much about it, do some pilates, walk more. I don't want to think about my snacks in terms of calories and carbs.

My friend Amelia has this theory on feeding children: kids' bodies know what they need. If you make good food available, they will, usually, get what their body requires. Her daughter seems to eat like a pigeon, but, if you watch closely over several days, you see that she gets everything she needs from several food groups. I don't see why we, as adults, can't function similarly. Eat what we want, when we want, listening to our bodies instead of the ingredients list on the backs of packages. And if I want I need I must have McNuggets, so be it. If I never lose this extra weight, I'm okay with that, too.