We are the champions my friend
And we'll keep on fightin' till the end
We are the champions, We are the champions
No time for losers 'cause we are the champions

The song is stuck in my head.  I heard it on the radio coming back from getting a crunchy iced Diet Coke.  Don't judge me; I need it (said with a childlike whine).  I can get that way-- just ask anyone (forgive me, Mom!).  That song has a special meaning too.  I remember sitting in the back of a certain Cadillac in the late 70's belting it out with my friends as we came back late from a long lunch making us tardy for our next class.  Fortunately we had tennis right after lunch (does it make sense to you that we had lunch then PE?) and the thrill of sneaking, rather running in our platform shoes to our lockers to get our tennis gear...well, it just brings a smile to my face.  I can also trace this back to the start of my bad eating habits.  In high school, I was active.  I could down a burger and fries and work it off (unintentionally mind you) just by being an active teen.  I played tennis at school, volleyball on the beach, swimming at the club, and flag football with the youth group.  Heck, now just wearing those 3" platform shoes constitutes working out in my book!  I ate and didn't think a thing about it.  We would laugh at my eating M&Ms and drinking a Tab.

Well, I'm not laughing now.  I am a meal planning, menu dodging mess.  Most kids gain the freshman 20 their first year of college.  Not mine, they lost 20 their first year of college; I know, a sad testimony.  Just this past week, everyone was on their own.  It's hard enough giving up grains and pasta the first couple of weeks, but to cook them for someone else and watch them eat 'em is downright criminal.  So while I was abstaining from them, my boys were on their own.  It's Friday and my week starts on the weekend.  I can get a lot accomplished during the weekend (unless it's Labor Day or Groundhog Day), but this is a new way of life for me so today is the day.  Going against my grain means I need to do that 4-letter word.  Every diet nutritionist will tell you....P-L-A-N.  I took a personality test the other day and my personality showed up as "performer."  HA.  I guess I am a sort of drama queen so I'm channeling my inner Hazel-- I loved those old reruns (I wonder if netflix has them...maybe I'll look on amazon).  Arrrggg, stay focused, Strawberry!  Hazel was always getting into some sort of mischief and still had a hot meal on the table for Mr. and Mrs. B and Sport; she is my hero. I have donned my favorite apron....

favorite apron

pulled out my favorite pink planner.....

favorite pretty-n-pink planner

and have set out to plan.  Now where do I begin?  Maybe I should enroll in a time management class?  No, not necessary.  Maybe I should look up planners online and see what is really supposed to be in them.  This is all new to me.  Several years ago (possibly a decade but who's counting?), I purchased some inserts for my pretty pink planner.  Now that I've re-opened it, I see I set up a meal planning tab with pages labeled "menu planner."  I think they are secretly laughing at me.  Flipping through it, I see that I purchased a calendar too.  I wonder how long I have to wait to use them again-- they're dated 2008-09?  I'll look up the calendar cycle later!

I feel good; I'm taking the first step in organizing my meals.  My goal is to start small-- starting with planning tonight's dinner.  My problem has always been trying to tackle too much all at once.  I know I won't plan out a whole week's worth of dinners, but one dinner at day is not too overwhelming for even this chronically disorganized soul.  But first, I better write my name in the front; that way, if it gets lost, I'll be able to find it.  After all, I'm drinking green tea and doesn't it promote good mental health?!  Baby steps....baby steps.

Time to sing:  We are the champions, we are the champions.....