Thursday, February 22, 2007

Diet Coke, I Wish I Knew How to Quit You...

My husband has tried for years to get me to quit Diet Coke. He worries, for good reason, about the vast amounts of aspartame that I've ingested over the last two decades. Aspartame, by the way, is pronounced ASS-per-tame, not ass-PAR-tuh-MAY, as in: Aspartame, Greek God of Synthetic Substances. Not that I didn't know that, not that I learned that the hard way by embarrassing myself in front of literate, knowledgeable people. People who know how to pronounce common words. Not me. [Cough, cough.]

In any case, Craig has long been building a strong case, including the argument that aspartame was developed as a substance to aid in the fattening up of cattle, and evidence that Rumsfeld was a key player in the push for its common use. "If the fact that Rumsfeld was behind it isn't enough to make you quit," my husband said one day, shaking his head sadly, "I can't imagine what is."

Me, either, apparently, because I just kept drinking the stuff. Until two weeks ago, when I suddenly decided to get off the diet cola sauce. Since then, I've managed, just barely, to keep my life and household running, despite the fact that all I want to do is lie in bed, comatose. As it turns out, energy is is short supply in this old body, and it may well be that the Diet Coke rust is the one thing that's been holding this listing barge together in recent years.

Meanwhile, I've been dodging bullets such as email problems, one child's school struggles, and other thorny issues; I've also had wonderful experiences and have basked in the glow of other exciting developments I'll describe in more detail shortly. Thanks for bearing with me, and stay tuned. I'll be back in the regular blogging saddle very soon...

Meanwhile, here's a snatch of conversation from this afternoon, as the boys and I walked in the door from preschool:

Macky: Mama, do you want to see my painting?

Me: Yes, I do, sweetie. Wow, what a lot of pretty colors!

Macky: See, the poop and the pee gets sucked down into the hot lava...

Me: Uh, is that what it's a picture of?

Macky: Yeah. The blue stuff is the poop and pee...

Will: I'll be the poop!

Macky: I'll be the pee!

Me: ....

At least, I think that's how the conversation went. I may be hallucinating. You know, from the Diet Coke withdrawal.


Blogger Heidi Renee said...

If this helps at all colas are horrible for your bones:

BBC NEWS | Health | Cola 'is bad' for women's bones: "Women who regularly drink cola could be increasing their risk of osteoporosis, US researchers believe."

I have given up diet coke and now drink pop with splenda - it's not he best thing in the world for me, but half measures are better than none, right?

10:38 AM  
Blogger Benjamin Ady said...

I love the painting story. I want to have a boy now really really badly. That just sounds so kewl.

Thank you for the ass PAR tuh may. I'm totally going to pronounce it that way from now on. The stuffed shirts can just learn to pronounce it like I do. I totally drive my wife crazy with all the words I pronounce "wrong" on purpose. one such word is, for instance YOH suh mite national park. pronouncing the "a" in "basin" with the same sound as in "bad". and so on.

10:43 PM  
Blogger Michelle O'Neil said...

Stay strong! That stuff is soooooo bad for you.

P.S. I just got smacked down the other day for mispronouncing the name of a children's choir here.

Cantate. I called it CAN-tate.

It's con-TAH-ta, apparantly, (for the cultured crowd).

6:02 AM  
Blogger stephanie said...

This post is brilliant on so many levels. To begin with, anything with a picture of Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal is golden. Secondly, I love the comaraderie of other people mispronouncing 'common' words (only elitists call foreign words common); I very confidently asked for a sandwich on "fo-cuh-CHEE-uh" bread only to be corrected by a sniggering waiter that it's "fo-KAH-sha" - at frickin' Red Robin no less. And boy art is just so...boy. Gotta love it. Thanks, especially for the pic...

1:40 PM  

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