Friday, February 27, 2009

Day 3(a)

Still forging ahead, slightly daunted by the weekend but determined to stay on course.

Tonight's dinner: beet, carrot, apple & ginger juice. Not bad if you don't mind drinking something blood red that tastes like dirt.

Day 5

Update: Down 2.6 lbs today. I believe that is 9.8 lbs in 4 days. Oh, hell yes.

I received an inquiry as to my health this morning since I only blogged once yesterday, and thankfully, I am doing quite well. It's just that I picked one of the busiest weeks at work to do my detox, and I am not joking when I say my boss told me, "Maybe this wasn't a good week for you to do this."


This was on Day 2 of the detox, when I was still detoxing off of caffeine and couldn't stay late due to a raging migraine. Lesson learned, I went back on the caffeine on Day 3 and have been enjoying my morning coffee ever since.

So I worked almost 12 hours yesterday and then when I got home was pleasantly surprised to see that on the menu for dinner was steamed salmon & greens. And I didn't even have to puree it!! It was delicious. I'd never cooked fish that way but it comes out moist and wonderful. I steamed the salmon on a bed of basil, put a little salt and pepper and lemon slices on the filet and let it steam for about 15 minutes. So good.

That's it for now. I did notice that tonight's dinner doesn't sound quite as wonderful: cucumber/avocado soup. Methinks not. I am also supposed to have a beet/ginger/apple/carrot juice before that so I'll probably just make that dinner.

More later! Happy Friday...

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Day 4

I'm down 2.2 pounds for a total of 7.2 pounds in 3 days. Starvation works, my friends. Although to be honest, I haven't felt hungry at all.

On another note, I've been told my blog is boring some folks to tears.


I will blog about something more interesting later today when I have time. Haters!

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Day 3(b)

Mmmmmm. Dinner.

Witness fruits and vegetables that should never co-mingle.

That's kale, celery, pear, lemon, and ginger.

Here's what the juicer looks like after I've put each of these ingredients through it.

And heeeeeeere's dinner!

On the scale of disgusting things I've eaten this week, this "Super Greens Juice" ranks right up there with coconut water and the dreaded blueberry smoothie.

With all of this time that I would normally spend enjoying meals, I've been spending mulling my eating habits and realizing just how little I actually need to eat in order to stay full and healthy.

Day 3(a)

May be developing a rash of some sort, which is unusual for me. It's on my neck and the back of one hand. An allergic reaction to different foods, maybe?

Working late...

Day 3

Firstly, I'm down another 2 pounds, despite a slight cheat on dinner. That's 5 pounds in 2 days. Not shabby!

Secondly, breakfast was a blessing: oatmeal and coffee. I'll be cheating for lunch. Gwyneth wants me to have a blueberry/almond milk smoothie but since the very thought of such a thing makes me want to hurl, I packed a salad. I decided for me, the object of this whole thing is less to detox and more to lose weight. That's been the primary goal all along, although I had very fanciful ideas about cleansing my insides with pure food. Turns out I am not enough of a hippie to completely maintain such a plan.

Marching along! Another update to follow later tonight (I think I'm supposed to juice some mysterious vegetables, should make for interesting photos).

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Day 2(b)

I felt much better after a nap but have definitely decided I will need my morning coffee tomorrow. There's simply too much going on at work for me to space out with a headache all day.

Tonight I was supposed to have miso soup for a snack and then a puree of peas and basil. I skipped the miso and the basil and went straight for the peas, leaving out the puree instructions. I also have to admit I ate a few raspberries and a couple of bites of leftover chicken. At least I stayed away from the ice cream!

Day 2(a)

I have a bad headache, bordering on migraine territory, from the caffeine withdrawal. I am going to need to drink coffee tomorrow morning in order to function at work -- this just isn't working. Sorry to let you down, Gwyneth. Now before I head off for a nap, here's breakfast, before and after being blended.

Day 2

First the interesting stuff: I lost 3 pounds. Which is pretty good.

This morning's smoothie was less repulsive than yesterday's, probably because I used the food processor instead of the blender. I think most of my blueberries got lost under the spikes in the blender yesterday, making for mostly just almond milk mixed with that awful powder. Today's had rice milk, too, which might have made it taste better.

Last night I was completely exhausted and had an awful headache. I slept well and this morning felt sluggish. Right now I feel all right although my head's foggy from my continued caffeine withdrawal. Why, why did I start drinking coffee again?

Pics of breakfast and dinner coming later on tonight.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Day 1(b)

What, you may ask, is this?

Why, it's the supergreen powder chock full of 26 nutrient dense superfoods that made my morning smoothie taste like shit.

The above is my dinner before I turned it into baby vomit. What you see here is sauteed broccoli with onions and garlic on top of arugula.

And that, my friends, was dinner.

Tomorrow, I get to eat chicken for lunch! Praise Gwyneth!

Day 1(a)


-Caffeine withdrawal rendered me more useless than usual today.
-Coconut water tastes like shit.
-I have already lost .6 pound and the first day isn't even over yet.

On to awful green soup. Stay posted.

Blast Off

Day 1 of the 7-day GOOP detox has begun. And it's a doozy.

Let's start at the beginning.

Yesterday we picked up the juicer, and then I went by myself to Trader Joe's and Whole Foods in search of the many mysterious ingredients I need. Things I've never purchased, like whey protein powder, dried bonito flakes (which I never did find), miso, beets, and coconut water. There are so many more things on the list that I rarely, if ever, eat, but those are some of the more interesting ones. Anyway, I had to do battle with all of the San Jose yuppies, which pissed me off. It's nearly impossible to maneuver a shopping cart through Whole Foods, much less Trader Joe's, because there are so damn many people in those stores.

I didn't even find everything I needed at those two stores. I had to also go to PW and GNC for extra ingredients. Suffice to say I have spent a pretty penny in order to do this detox.

Last night we tested out the juicer, and Hubs, who was a major critic of the purchase of said juicer, was finally won over when he tasted carrot-apple juice. It was delicious.

So today I started the detox, and so far it's been quite interesting. I started off with a glass of lemon water. Shortly thereafter, I felt an urgent need for a BM. I wasn't sure if this was a result of the lemon water or perhaps some of the crappy food I ate yesterday. Either way, I think I've already lost some weight, if you get my drift.

Then I made my morning smoothie. It's a blend of whey protein, super-foods powder (a strange, dark green powder that's basically a bunch of vitamins), blueberries and almond milk.

Gawwww it was awful. It was green and frothy and it tasted like vitamins and ... almond milk, which I don't think I like very much. I choked it down.

When I got to work I had herbal tea (no caffeine, alcohol or dairy allowed on the detox) and I've been drinking water ever since. I've got a container of coconut water waiting for me in the fridge, and I admit I'm a little nervous about whether I'll find that repulsive, too. For lunch I've got a salad. My snack later is a handful of sunflower seeds. Dinner is broccoli/arugula soup (also makes me a little nervous).

So I figure even if I hate every single thing on the menu, I'm just going to eat/drink it, because it's only 7 days, and I can manage to choke down some healthy shit for 7 days. I'll be reporting on whether I lose weight each day, something I'm extremely curious about, given all of this mysterious stuff I'm ingesting.

I may blog later today, since I was planning to post a photo of some of the food I'm eating. I didn't have time for a photo of the green mess that was breakfast, so I'll try for one that will surely be the green mess that is dinner.

Friday, February 20, 2009

A countdown

Here we are, gearing up for another weekend. I approach it with relief (no more working or poop-scented stairwells for a couple of days) and excitement (juicing starts in 3-2-1...!)

So tonight or tomorrow I'll pick up the juicer. Tomorrow or Sunday I'll pick up the many mysterious, organic ingredients I need from Whole Foods, and either Sunday or Monday I'll start the detox program.

I'm excited about the juice detox because I think it'll be the push I need to get me eating healthier and exercising. Lately when I get on the scale the numbers are increasing, and I'm becoming rather afraid that I'm going to be one of those people that other, thinner people shake their head at sadly and remark to each other that I must be so sad and out of control. Poor fat girl.

I haven't wanted to mention it, because I hate mentioning diet/weight loss goals, only to then not meet the goal and end up feeling like a huge (literally) failure, but I have decided it's time to mention this goal. I would like to lose 50 pounds by December. 50! Holy mother. That's a lot. I am going to Maui in December, and would like to not feel like a beached whale in my bathing suit. I feel OK about mentioning my goal at this point because I feel will-power coming my way. The last time I felt this obsessed about a lifestyle change, I lost 30 pounds. It was the SugarBusters diet. Which I would totally recommend to anyone. SugarBusters isn't really a diet, it's a change of lifestyle. It's a very reasonable way of eating. My sadistic kickboxing instructor didn't hurt, either.

So anyway, I think 50 pounds by December is totally doable. That's 5.5 pounds per month. A 50-pound loss would put me at about where I was at my most comfortable weight, several years ago. What, you may be wondering, happened, that I gained 50 pounds back after a 30 pound loss? Cookies. Living alone in a weird town with all of my loved ones far away. That was an easy 15 pounds. Engagement was another 5. Marriage and the rapid fire deaths of a few family members was the rest. Nothing like dead relatives to make you feel entitled to gorge on pizza and beer. Now that we're returning to some semblance of normalcy, I need to establish normal, healthy eating patterns again, and I'm hoping this juice detox is exactly the kick in the ass I've been needing.

So stay tuned! I'll report in on Monday with an update...

Thursday, February 19, 2009

I was like, VOM

So when I park on the third floor of the parking garage, I rarely take the stairs, because I am a lazy bitch and am often wearing three inch heels. Believe me, I have almost killed myself on those damn stairs trying to walk in stilettos and cuffed pants. Stilettos + cuffed pants + stairs = suicide.
Anyway today I am wearing flats because I had a walk with a customer. I parked on the third floor, and decided to take the stairs. Which I immediately regretted because it smelled like the dirtiest fart ever in the stairwell. Like, one of those farts where someone with lactose intolerance has just eaten a gallon of ice cream and is about to let loose on an unsuspecting toilet. I gagged. I held my breath. But I breathed in again because I was so morbidly fascinated with the odor.

*sniff* Retch! Hold breath. *sniff* Retch! Repeat...

I simply couldn't believe someone could be so uncouth as to let loose such a noxious fart in the stairwell. And there was no mistaking the smell. It was a fart, 100%. I almost got out on the second floor to take the elevator but instead dashed for the first floor, all the while sniffing and retching. It's like when the milk goes bad, and you sniff it and Phew!! That shit is bad. But you have to sniff again because, was it really bad? How bad? Really bad! Clumpy bad. Yech. Your spouse is standing nearby and you know the milk is bad, but you ask them to smell it anyway. Why do we enjoy sharing these disgusting odors with each other?

Smell this.

Ra! That's bad. Throw it out.

*Sniff* Hew doggies, yeah. *sniff* Damn!

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

I slack, therefore I am

Don't even ask me about this weekend -- I don't know what I did. I know that for several hours on and off yesterday, I napped while the rain fell and fell and fell outside. I do remember venturing out to buy the juicer. All that napping really screwed me when it came to sleeping last night. Small things that normally don't bother me while I'm trying to get some sleep started bugging me. Like my right boob is totally in the way when I am trying to lie on my right side but for some reason when I lie on my left, my left boob just kind of nestles into place like an obedient pet.

So I lied, of course. I do remember what I did this weekend, and damn was it a thrill!

Sunday I went to a Mary Kay party. Then I had to rush to clean my house and make enchiladas before I subject our friends to the sty that we live in. Our friends were very gracious about the pig pen that is our home and even lied about their home being a mess due to their 6-month-old, who crawled around on my filthy floor and, under the watchful eye of my husband, biffed off the step from the kitchen to the family room. Much to Hubs' entertainment; he immediately laughed hysterically. To his credit, Clark (the baby), hardly cried at all.

Saturday was Valentine's Day, of course, and Hubs let me sleep in while he slipped out to buy me roses and an egg mcmuffin for breakfast. We later shopped for our respective valentines day gifts. Mine were shoes and his were video games. We finished the evening with our traditional Valentine's fondue (our Swiss cheese fondue should be criminal, it's so good). Hubs tried to avoid the stomach issues that normally accompany our overindulgence in lactose by taking lactase pills, to no avail, unfortunately.

Friday night was dinner with several friends at Willow Street Pizza, where I ate a massive quantity of pesto penne, and it was so damn worth it. Later some of us ate ice cream (like that was necessary) and watched Hell Boy 2, which was entertaining.

And, oh yeah, the whole time we did all that stuff, Friday through Monday, it effing rained like God was pissed and decided to take back his promise to Noah.

By the way, tell me this is not the cutest damn baby you have ever seen. This is Jordan, the baby girl my cousin had last week, being held by her grandmother (my aunt). Gawwwwwwwwwww keep her away from me, I'll scratch my own eyes out from the cuteness.

Monday, February 16, 2009

A cleansing

Ever since I read this article about a month ago on Gwyneth Paltrow's site, GOOP, I have been obsessed with the idea of doing her "seven day elimination diet."
The diet's purpose is to detox and lose a few pounds.
It involves lots of lemon water, vegetables, and juicing.
The juicing part is the only reason why I haven't yet given it a shot. I don't own a juicer and I wasn't sure I could justify purchasing one just so I could try this seven-day diet and then throw the juicer in the cupboard, never to be used again.
I floated the idea by Hubs a few dozen times, and his reaction was always the same: It would be a waste of money because I'd never use it again and then I'd need to figure out where to keep the damn thing, and storage in our kitchen is at a premium right now.
Today I decided that I could justify buying the juicer because even if I don't enjoy carrot & ginger juice, I do like apple juice and orange juice, and if/when we ever have children, won't that just be the healthiest damn thing?
So Hubs and I jaunted on down to Crate and Barrel and we purchased this juicer on back order.

I am expecting it to arrive at the store on Wednesday, and I'll be starting my detox diet shortly thereafter. I'll describe any side effects of the diet and how the recipes taste. I'll take photos, particularly of the juices, and let you know if I manage to lose any weight.

There are several items that I've never purchased/heard of before that I'll have to hit up Whole Foods for -- dried bonito flakes, anyone? Agave syrup and almond milk?

We shall see.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Heppy Balentime's Day

My most memorable Valentine's Day was when I was around 7 years old. I was in public school and my closest friends were an unreliable bunch of outcasts -- a tiny Vietnamese girl and a wild-eyed, unkempt blonde who insisted on wearing only white. She'd have been diagnosed with ADD if they'd been doing that 20 years ago.

My memories of elementary school are lonely ones in which I'm watching others from the sidelines. I must not have been terribly social. I recall eating my lunches alone and sometimes sitting on a bench, pretending my hands were binoculars and I could spy on other students from afar while they played.

Growing up, my mom kept only healthy food in the house. Sweets were a treat: each Saturday my sister and I were allowed to pick one candy bar from the grocery store. When and how we ate it was our decision. I always ate mine voraciously, and immediately. My sister often portioned hers out.

My school lunches were usually unappetizing. How great can a sandwich and sliced apples taste when they've been sitting in your cubby hole for four hours? On warm days my lunch box would take on a stale processed meat smell. I often threw most of my lunch in the garbage.

But one day -- Valentine's Day -- I opened my pink "My Little Pony" lunchbox to find a shocking stash of candy. I don't even remember what kind of candy it was; I just remember it was a lot, and I ate it all immediately, ignoring the sandwich and apple slices. I remember feeling as though I'd found a treasure, and a warm feeling of gratitude toward my mother.

I return to this memory often, even when the calendar is nowhere near to Valentine's Day, because it's one of the happiest memories of my childhood, as strange as that may be. I had and still have a deep love for my mom, who's always been the kindest and most thoughtful person I've ever met. I've never had the typical relationship many women have with their mothers, in which they feel criticized.

And now I have another, newer memory of Valentine's Day. Last weekend, I was helping clean out Hubs' grandmother's house, and discovered that she'd kept every single Valentine her daughter had received in elementary school, and the Valentines she and her husband had given their daughter. They are precious cards from the 1950s, still bright in color and distinct in their mid-century look and feel.

Hubs' mom was their only child, so they kept absolutely everything that had anything to do with her. She meant the world to her mother, which we know not only because of the way Hubs' grandma used to talk about her, but also because of the poems, the scribbled notes, the letters, the innumerable writings in which his grandmother speaks of her love for her daughter. In life, their relationship had its ups and downs, but in the end, we know Hubs' grandma always believed her daughter was the single most perfect thing she'd ever created, and she couldn't ever quite believe her luck.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Jordan Elizabeth

Please welcome my first cousin, once removed, to this world. She was born at 1:45 a.m. today to my beautiful, and only, cousin, who lives in Washington. This is her second child, and I'll always think of both of them as my niece and nephew. Jordan gets her middle name, Elizabeth, from our late grandmother, who passed away a couple of months ago.

Sorry for the poor photo quality, it's a cell phone photo but the only one I've got so far.

Monday, February 09, 2009

25 Things You Need To Know About My Husband

You may be aware of the "25 Things" lists flooding Facebook lately. I've read them in honest fascination of the things I never knew about my friends. One friend really took the cake on Friday -- his list included inspiring and heartbreaking moments alike, and as I read them aloud to my husband, he remarked that this was the reason he hadn't compiled his own list; he thinks he is not interesting.

Frankly, I happen to know he's one of the most interesting people I've ever met, although it has little to do with his past experiences. I told him right then that I would compile his list for him, which he did not want me to do, but since I am a contrary wife, here I am, publishing it on my blog.

25 Things You Need To Know About My Husband, As Written By Me.

25. He is ambidextrous. He writes with his right hand and eats with his left. All nails on his hands are regularly chewed off and many are lying in what I fondly refer to as the "nail graveyard," which is under a side table in our family room.

24. He once slept through a final in college. This is very unlike him, since he checks, double checks and triple checks his alarm clock every night. The checking of the alarm clock intensified after this particular incident.

23. He will eat anything and often enjoys eating foods less adventurous folks won't eat.

22. He is an autocross champion, and has the jacket to prove it.

21. He remembers what I was wearing on the night we met, but doesn't remember a thing about our first date.

20. He loves it when I get angry, but not too angry.

19. He has an absurd sense of smell. He smells everything and is always remarking on things he smells, including my breath.

18. Which leads me to: When particularly inebriated, he enjoys going on "walkabout," because it's dark, cold, and fresh outside. He likes the way the cold night air smells.

17. When he gets a bill, he pays it immediately. He has excellent credit.

16. As a third grader, he once chipped a large portion of his front tooth while riding a skateboard downhill on his knees. If you look closely you can tell where the dentist patched a fake tooth on.

15. He likes cats. A lot.

14. His family has been shrinking over the last few years. He lost his mom in 06 and his grandmother in 08. It's been a rough road.

13. He buys shoes and clothing in bulk. A couple years ago he found a pair he liked, and ever since he's been buying them three pairs at a time and slowly using them as he wears them out. This weekend he ordered four pairs of his favorite jeans online.

12. He's been known to create his own electronic music, and it's actually quite good.

11. He's been told he should have entered the psychology field. He has an uncanny sense for what is really going on with people.

10. If he could do anything, he would be a race car driver or a musician.

9. He makes me laugh more than anyone I've ever met.

8. He has a deep capacity for caring for others. Once a friend of his, always a friend. He is the one who keeps in touch and puts in the work.

7. He is honest, but not brutally so.

6. He loves to have his face pet and his head scratched.

5. He has a deep hatred of doing dishes and particularly hates handwashing knives and wine glasses.

4. He's never been as slutty as he had the opportunity to be.

3. He's one of those guys who knows a lot about a lot, or at least a lot about certain things. He'd argue, but the truth is he knows a lot about cars, electronics, computers, and music.

2. Traffic makes him furious.

1. He once dressed up as The Falconer (from SNL) for Halloween, and since we couldn't find a fake falcon, he carried around a fake rooster until, late at night, he burned it in a friend's outdoor fireplace, along with a poisonous amount of DJ fog juice. The incident is still legendary among our friends and now known as "The Burning of the Cock."

P.S. My husband commented on this entry with a few corrections (which I have made) and comments (aka Thanks for letting everyone know how disgusting I am), and then I promptly deleted his comment, in the spirit of complete contrariness.

Friday, February 06, 2009

America, the Self Righteous

What is it that's so surprising about Michael Phelps driving under the influence, having sex with strippers and smoking weed?

Just because he's supposed to be Mr. All-American-I-Won-10-Gold-Medals-And-I-Love-Apple-Pie? As a record-breaking Olympian, he's supposed to be above all of the temptation that comes along with being adored by an entire nation and suddenly coming into lots of cash?

Allow me to explain the impetus behind Phelps' actions of late.

HE IS 23!

He is 23, he kicked France's ass in the Olympics, and he has a body that women of all ages, all over the world, have been drooling over since Phelps pulled his Speedo down to his hips and we all glimpsed the divine perfection that is his torso. Women are probably begging him to go to bed with them.

Thank God that, at age 23, I was only moderately hot and not at all rich or famous. Because I would have WREAKED HAVOC, people. Havoc, I say. It's hard enough to keep your shit straight when you're simply young, relatively attractive, single, footloose and fancy-free.

I spent my free time drinking copious amounts of alcohol and associating with questionable characters at age 23. I can't tell you how many mornings I spent with my head hanging over a toilet, barfing my guts out, when I was 23. I can't tell you how many times I drove while inebriated when I was 23. All I wanted when I was 23 was to get drunk, have fun with my friends, and have sex. So that was pretty much what I did.

And it's no surprise to me that that's what Michael Phelps wants to do, too.

I mean, come on people. The kid busted his ass for years in the pool and the weight room in order to wipe the floor with every other country at the Olympics and make us proud. His free time consisted of eating 5,000 calorie breakfasts, snuggling with his dog and dorking out with his friends by playing video games.

So, come on. When you were 23, you weren't winning gold medals. And if you had been, you'd sure as hell feel that once you were done, you'd want to smoke a little reefer and have sex with some strippers.

If I were him, I would.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009


Today I spent a considerable amount of time with one of my vendors. His wife is due to give birth to a boy on the 23rd, and they've already got a 2-year-old girl.

He explained the moment when his wife told him she was pregnant for the first time. He was sitting around the house, and announced, "I'm bored." She replied, "I'm pregnant."

Wow, suddenly not bored!

He went on to wax poetic about his kid and how wonderful it is, yada yada, the best thing he's ever done, great and everything, loody doody.

And then he said, "But I totally respect people who don't want to have kids."


This is sort of a surprising statement from the parent of a toddler. I rarely hear this sort of statement. Rather, I hear kind of the opposite.

Yeah I want kids some day, but I want to decide when and how and all that and I feel like the kid thing is constantly being shoved down my throat. Can I please decide when and if to destroy my vagina?


Tuesday, February 03, 2009

An Open Letter to America, Re: Jessica Simpson

Dear America,

According to, like, everyone, 65% of you (us) are overweight or obese.

Surely most of us are not as slim as Jessica Simpson, who seems to have gained maybe 10 pounds and then, in a moment of poor judgement, wore some awful mom jeans and a really hideous belt to one of her concerts. She is believed to be a size 8. Size 8, people.

The day I am a size 8, I will be a happy woman. Of course, I'm about three feet taller than Jessica, but still. Didn't size 8 used to be the ideal? Marilyn Monroe is thought to have been a size 8, and isn't she a beauty icon? Does anyone ever talk about Marilyn in a "gee, what a fatty" kind of way? No.

Although I know the obsession with watching celebrities' weight will never end, I can't help but voice my disgust with the constant hammering by the media on famous women who eat actual food. I mean, the woman is from Texas. She's lucky she's not a size 80.

And what really annoys me is when a celebrity has a child, and then a few months later if she's still a little pudgy, it's like, "Oh, she's having trouble losing that baby weight." Um. Have you ever been inhabited by another living creature and squeezed it out of your gonads after nine months of nearly constant weight gain? Me neither. Which is why I refuse to judge women who have.

Although I do judge, certainly. At times, nothing makes me giddier than an overweight celebrity. I've blogged about Oprah and her lack of excuses for being overweight. Celebrities who are fat despite loads of money that could buy them personal trainers and chefs make me happy because I feel more normal. So carry on fat celebrities, carry on. (Jessica, for the record, is not fat, and hence does not fill me with glee.)



Monday, February 02, 2009

Hello Creepy Dolly, What's Cookin' Creepy Dolly

I sat down in front of the computer at 5 p.m. on Saturday and next thing I realized, it was 9 p.m., my fingers were cramped and freezing and my eyes were burning from staring at the screen.
Had I really just been reading about DOLLS for the last four hours? Indeed, I had.

See, we are the lucky inheritors of a number of dolls dating back to the 1940s. I have stacks and stacks of dolls, their tiny fingers and plastic shoes and fake hair poking out of the tops of boxes in our spare room. Almost every doll is of the "sleep eyes" variety, which means their eyes open when the dolls' bodies are upright, and close when they lie down. Some of the eyes are being eaten by some sort of doll eye cancer. Some of them open only halfway. Some of the dolls have "flirty eyes," which means their eyes look side to side. Let me tell you, few things are creepier than an old doll that can look at you out of the corner of its eye.

Some of the dolls are "mama dolls," which means they have a mechanism in them that causes them to cry or say "mama" when you lay them down. Thank god none of these work any more.

I spent hours stripping vintage dolls of their delicate clothes and examining their butt cheeks, shoulders, necks and feet for markings that would reveal what kind of dolls they were. I would type the markings into a search engine, and discover the history of the dolls and, of course, what they are worth today, which in some cases is sort of obscene. Doll collectors will pay ridiculous amounts to add a plastic doll with a frozen expression of vacant boredom on its face and arms permanently outstretched for an embrace to their eerie collection of row upon row of dolls that line their living room walls.

In conducting my doll research, I discovered many a crazed woman who'd posted an all-too revealing photo of her vast and "adorable" doll collection. Dolls lined up shoulder to shoulder, each staring out, watching. There is something about these women that craves tiny, perfect, immobile plastic children. I can't imagine what it is, since most times that I catch the dolls staring at me when I walk by the spare room, it sends chills up my spine.

But if there are people out there who want to pay $400 for a 60-year-old 8-inch doll whose head turns from side to side when she "walks," Hubs and I will gladly accept it.