OMG, Breakfast of Champions, anyone?

So you read about the race. Done with that for a while until I have to pull it out when Michelle asks what I've done lately and then tell her "I ran a 5K, what did you do?" since she always chickens out at the last minute.

Post-race, Michelle said, "Let's go to breakfast," which I was kinda shocked hearing because she never wants to go out to breakfast. Since we were downtown, I suggested Smith Street Diner, a little (emphasis on that word) place neither of us had tried but always said, Hey, that looks like a greasy spoon that would make a killer breakfast.

You know what? That greasy spoon makes a killer breakfast. People stand out on the sidewalk waiting for a table in the two room place. Their biscuits are the size of a bowling ball, their pancakes have that nice griddle crisp on the edges while staying soft on the inside. And it's cheap.

I might start waking up early on work days and sneaking down there for a quick bite, making excuses to Michelle like, Oh, we have a very important meeting every Tuesday morning from now on. Starts at 8 a.m. because the EVP who's running the meeting is originally from Australia and it's already tomorrow there and he doesn't want to wait another minute for an update.

I don't know if I would get away with it, but it would certainly be worth it to try. Which I guess I can't do now because Michelle is usually the first person to read this blog and now she's onto my little plot. I'll have to get my boss to call her and tell her the meeting is for real, which then means I'll probably have to buy off my boss with biscuits, which adds to the cost. Damnit.

In Pictures: Birthday Party, Part I

We're preparing for Kaitlyn's birthday party this week and we're t-minus two days from the festivities. While Michelle is running around like a chicken with her head cut off organizing per usual, I am taking this opportunity to make up for my lack of initiative over the last eight-plus months of semi-retirement.

I am making her cake.

And we're not talking about some run-of-the-mill cake here, either. I had the bright notion a few weeks ago that I would pull a Duff and trick out this birthday cake. You see, we had a little snafu with last year's cake (purchased) and I wanted to make sure that this year's cake would do us proud. Plus, I'm pretty anal-retentive creative, so I figured I'd give it a shot.

This year, Michelle decided on a Crayola-themed party. You may recall the trip to New Jersey and the Crayola Factory late last year, which Kaitlyn loved. So wouldn't be friggin' sweet if we had a big-old box of Crayola crayons as the cake? Heck yeah it would.

I found some ideas online. Some people are really creative. Some people have too much time on their hands are great artists. Some people really need to take a class have big hearts. I wanted to take it a step further -- fondant.

Anybody can ice a cake with some out-of-the-can Betty Crocker. But wouldn't it be friggin' sweet to build a cake, making the homemade butter cream icing and fondant to give it that Ace of Cakes feel? Heck yeah it would.

So I found a great recipe and ran with it. It's a messy proposition, from start to finish. And not just the fondant. The whole cake building process is pretty intense. It is ... well, just take a look for yourself:

The remnants of my cake-shaving experiment, part one. And that's homemade fondant. I would have taken a picture of the fondant-making process, but then the camera would just be one big lump of marshmallow.

The cake-building process is getting into its nitty-gritty stages. More remnants. And by the way -- I made a great tasting cake, if I do say so myself

Yeah, I know you're impressed with my fondant color mixing skills

Yeah, a covered cake. Hells yeah. And that recipe makes a helluva lot of fondant, so if you're planning to use the recipe, I would highly suggest making only one batch. And by the way: If anyone's looking for some extra fondant, just give me a call. 

Yeah, this is AFTER the first clean-up session. Told you it was intense. 

So you're going to have to wait another couple days to see the finished product, since I'm still working on it. Plus, I want the returning visitor pageviews to pump up my analytics.

Milk: It does a body good (unless it's chocolate milk, then it's worse for you than heroin)

I have to admit: I love a big, honkin' glass of chocolate milk. It's fan-friggin'-tastic, especially paired with a equally big, honkin' bowl of ice cream. And thank God I'm not lactose intolerant because, well, we'd have some real problems.

There's just something about having a big, honkin' glass of liquid chocolate that gives me a good feeling all over. And by the way, I'm a purist. It's got to be Hershey's Chocolate Syrup in there. No store brand, no cheap alternative, no other name on the bottle. Hershey's. Chocolate. Syrup.

Not to mention that we're talking about milk here. I mean, it's good for you too, right?

Apparently not. According to leading nutritional Nazis experts, chocolate milk should be outlawed from schools and given the old heave-ho because it makes kids happy healthy fat.

There's almost this threat, like "If you don't drink chocolate milk, then your children will not get the nutrition they need!" says Marlene Schwartz, deputy director of Yale University's Rudd Center for Food Policy and Obesity. For Schwartz, the dairy industry's campaign is one as concerned with market share as it is with nutrition. "The real issue is a food-industry segment saying, "We want to market our product to children. So we are going to add extra sugar that is completely unnecessary to improve the taste so that kids will drink more of our product." And since more than half of all flavored milk in the U.S. is sold to children in schools, she says, there's a lot to be lost if chocolate milk gets kicked out of the cafeteria.

I failed to notice in Ms. Schwartz argument for eliminating chocolate-y goodness from schools the affect of reduced or eliminated physical education classes in today's schools or the lack of responsibility from dumb parents to haul their fat children away from the Xbox for an hour a day to play outside.

As expected, the milk industry isn't taking all this sitting down. They've launched a million dollar marketing campaign to get you to believe there is nothing wrong with chocolate in your milk. While I tend to agree, maybe they need to send people to places like Boulder, Colorado and Berkeley, California, districts where hippies parading like they own the friggin' place school officials have banned the nectar of joy from their lunchrooms.

Now, I have to be honest: Kaitlyn doesn't get chocolate milk. At just under two years of age, I don't think it would be prudent. Granted, by the time she's four or five, there's nothing wrong with giving her a little bit of chocolate-y goodness in my mind. Especially since I know she'll be taking walks with us and playing outside.

Kaitlyn's Turkey Day Special

So here we are at Thanksgiving watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on Playhouse Disney. Sort of like every other day. That is, until 9 a.m. hits.

At that point, we will introduce Kaitlyn to what I consider the start of the holiday season, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I think she'll enjoy it, considering the colors, music, floats and balloons that come across every 1.5 seconds. It truly is an ADHD wonderland.

Then it's off to Old Navy (Michelle doesn't know this yet, since she's still slumbering away) since there's some good deals and, if you get there early enough, some free swag before heading to YaYa and Pop-Pop's place for some food and football.

But the real reason for this post (and the holiday, lest we forget) is to give thanks for everything we have today. While I might be semi-retired and therefore a little lighter in the old wallet, there's plenty to be thankful for.

First and foremost, a wonderful family that is loving and supportive. It's been a long and tough road over the past seven months (God, really? Seven months?!?!) with some near misses, but it's all a learning process. Plus, as Michelle likes to say, there's a plan. Don't know what that is, but I guess if we knew we wouldn't learn anything.

Second is Kaitlyn. Granted, she's part of number one, but to have a daughter that is healthy, happy, adorable, too smart and funny as hell is more than I could ever ask for. Plus, without her none of you would have the pleasure of reading Growing Up Kaitlyn.

Third, I am thankful for Northstar Travel Media. What is Northstar Travel Media, you ask? Well, that is the company that pushed me toward semi-retirement. I am thankful for them because, without the salary they provided me for a year and a half, unemployment pay would be scarce and I would probably be asking everyone if they would like fries with their order. So thank you, Northstar Travel Media. Granted not for pushing me out the door, but at least for paying me close to what I was worth.

So from our family to yours (which is essentially mine since most of Growing Up Kaitlyn's readers are related in some way, shape and form), Happy Thanksgiving. And consider this my phone call, just in case the Tryptophan kicks in sooner than expected.

Daddy's genes and Brando's jeans

I talk a lot about my daughter being a little, well, healthy. Actually, a lot healthy.

You see, Kaitlyn is a little bit of a butterball. And I mean that in the nicest possible way. I think it's adorable at this age and don't care one iota. I'm not like some crazy, over-the-top parents. I know my daughter likes to eat and I'm cool with that.

Like on Thursday. There was no stopping her. You see, Thursdays are our little breakfast-for-dinner days. But not just any breakfast. Chocolate. Chip. Pancakes.

Kaitlyn digs the chocolate chip pancakes, so she began to devour them. Three adult-sized pancakes. Same as me. I mean, my daughter ate the same exact meal as me. She began to cry when we took her out of her seat, even though she had finished what was on the plate and was licking the crumbs off the tray.

Now, I don't know if it is the whole breakfast-for-dinner concept that draws her attention. Would she do this for an omelete? I don't know. Maybe the large dollop of Hershey's Chocolate Syrup that Michelle gave Kaitlyn to dip her pancakes in had something to do with her mood. I'm no expert. All I know is that it was tough to take her away from that plate.

But as I was watching my daughter compete in her personal IFOCE event, I couldn't help but think that I am partly to blame. You see, I don't have the healthiest eating habits.

Normal people will sometimes sneak ice cream for dinner; they don't have the entire half-gallon. Normal people get an Extra Value Meal at Mickey D's or maybe a dollar menu sandwich or two; they don't order four large sandwiches or three double cheeseburgers, two McChicken sandwiches, fries and a drink for lunch. Normal people have a cup of coffee, maybe two before noon; they don't finish an eight-cup pot before 10 a.m. and then get a large light and sweet from Dunkin' Donuts on his way to lunch.

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

Prime example is today's Friday's lunch. To your right, you will see the basics of what I ate today on Friday. It is called the Wise Guy Burger, found at that bastion of healthy fare, Red Robin. Here's the rundown from DietsInReview.com:

In this particular nutritional nightmare, the Wise Guy Burger is part burger, part appetizer. And not the good appetizers like fresh crudites – we’re talking fried mozzarella cheese sticks on top of a burger patty. But that’s not all! Try pepperoni slices, banana peppers, marinara sauce and tomatoes all smothered on top of each other.

Too much for most people, right? But here's the kicker -- I modified mine. Subtracted the rabbit food. Added melted provolone cheese on top of the mozzarella sticks. Added the signature Red Robin steak fries under the burger patty (Don't worry -- bottomless fries!). Enjoyed and delighted in its awesomeness.

And I still weigh all of 168 pounds. Granted, I've never had my cholesterol checked for fear of giving the doctor reading the results a heart attack, but that's a conversation for another time. I have yet to physically see any consequences from my eating habits. I love food. I am a fit-looking individual. All is right with the world.

But then I see Kaitlyn. Poor blubbery Kaitlyn. Still a cute blubbery, but who knows if Ronald McDonald will be as kind to her as he has been to me. So I try to eat better with my wife, who's been on my case for years. We grill chicken and make Weight Watcher meals with reduced fat or fat free ingredients. But then there are times like this afternoon. Not to mention the three Whatchamacallits I had this evening. With whole milk. Mmm.

I don't know if Kaitlyn has a chance, but I do know she's enjoying the path she's taken. Even if that path has to be reinforced with steel.

The Search for Whatchamacallit

Ever since I penned my Halloween Missive, I've been craving a Whatchamacallit. And you know what happens when you want something at a very precise moment: That's right, you can never find one.

You see, the Whatchamacallit is probably the most underrated confection in human history. Now, some people might try and tell you otherwise, naming such sugary goodness as Snickers or Three Musketeers or the God-awful Almond Joy. Don't get me wrong; I love a Snickers. But as far as pure gold, there's no topping the chocolately-caramelly-peanuty goodness that is the Whatchamacallit.

I don't know when candy decided to get all serious, offering us 78% Cacao and ultra-rich dark chocolate on our Junior Mints, but in came the pretentiousness and out went the fun. I mean, how much more can you improve on a friggin' Junior Mint. Or a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. Or a plain ol' honest-to-goodness Hershey Bar. And by the way, Hersey: If you ever decide to pull a New Coke on me with your original Hershey Bar, I will lead the boycott. Seriously, I think I account for 12% of your gross sales alone. Think about it.

So I've been looking for a Whatchamacallit for the last week and a half, thinking Oh, it's Halloween. They'll be around every corner. Nope. Looked in the grocery stores. Nada. Checked out Target. Empty. Where the hell are the Whatchamacallits? I mean, if they can still sell Mounds and the God-awful Almond Joy, there still must be a Whatchamacallit somewhere. I mean, I feel like Charlie Bucket over here.

So since I've been awake since 4 a.m. thanks to a toddler's screwed up internal clock (thank-you, daylight savings time), I decided to find me some damn Whatchamacallits, even if it took me ordering directly from Hershey.

You know what I found? An awesome Hershey's search tool that provides you with the exact locale for any of Hershey's confectionery delights:

Let us help you find your favorite HERSHEY’S product. HERSHEY’S products are available nearly everywhere. However, if you’re having trouble finding one in the United States, we can help! Select the specific product, the zip code where you shop and the distance you are willing to travel to purchase that great HERSHEY’S item. With so many delicious choices, we are not able to include all of our products in this locator. If you are still unable to find your favorite, please contact us.

So thanks to Hershey's, I will be making my way to the local CVS after dropping Kaitlyn off at daycare. Whatchamacallit, you beckon ...