The Plan: Donny-style.

It's SO painful to watch. I want so badly to jump in, proclaim the sovereign state that is my kitchen and throw the blender down the basement stairs where, alas, it will meet it's untimely death. Three times a day, for the past seven days, I stand at my island, bite my tongue, clench my jaw and just wait for it all to be over. Until lunchtime. And then dinnertime. Oh, but then there's The Cleansing Day.

Because his jeans don't quite fit, Don has embarked upon a health regimen consisting of two protein shakes a day and a sensible meal at night. And with it comes the use of an appliance he has no business even knowing about. He's decided that he needs to lose 10 pounds. His pants don't fit, for heaven's sake. This, coming from a man who has proudly donned his 1979, 32-inch waist, button-up Levi's more times than any one wife should witness. A man, who, two years ago decided he was traveling down a road to inflexibility and thus took up Yoga and can now hold a Downward Dog and practically do the splits. THIS from a man who exercises daily, watches what he eats and isn't the least bit indulgent in thought, word, or dessert. Dude, my pants don't fit either....I'm up a solid ten, myself. What's so wrong with being fat and happy?

But this shake business is just fundamentally and aesthetically amiss. It's for someone who can achieve culinary perfection in leftovers from the bowels of the fridge. Someone who can accidentally drink the wine relegated to cooking and barely even notice. It's for someone who thinks Bud Light is downright delectable.

Someone kinda like, Don.

The whole process is just so comical, so, not the way I would do it and therefore it's just wrong. First, honey, you must cover all of the powder and fruit with a liquid. You can't put in half a cup of water and expect the whole mess to congeal into a delicious smoothie. Once you get enough liquid in there, sweetheart, then you must pulse it a few times to get it going. Then you can leave it on "whip" and walk away for seven and a half minutes while you do God-knows-what.

Given the chance, I'm certain I could create a shake for him that would knock his deerskin slippers right into oblivion. Though it would defeat the purpose of The Plan.

Still, I love his game face. His brave and satisfied look of: This is just one darn delicious meal I'm having here. With conviction and one eye twitching.

So, what this means is that each morning and afternoon there's a strange man in my kitchen...stumbling about, trying to look comfortable, taking up space and always, always leaving a path of dribbled shake in his wake. There is constant blender-presence in my area...be it in the sink, filled with soap and water, on the dish drainer or, (and this is my favorite)...precariously perched in the fridge with just a smidge of shake left in it. For me, the blender is an appliance that comes out when the kids request that once-a-year milkshake. Or in the summer, when a Pina Colada will just hit the spot. It's not a daily appliance. It's one of those appliances that you think you might have all the parts to.

Of course, with everthing that Don does, there are also the Donny rules that apply. One can absolutely not finish up a rousing game of platform tennis without an adult beverage (Mmm, not on The Plan). Tonight, on this sacred day of Cleanse, the non-blended portion of our dinner consisted of grilled Hangar Steak, (yeah, also, not on The Plan), risotto (SO not on the plan) and a green salad (this is the sensible part of The Plan). Surely the instructional DVD holds one caveat: If the wife is offering up something more sumptuous than this nasty cleansing juice, then, by all means, F the regimen for today.

So when all is said and done and he goes back to his nightly cocktail and multiple handfuls of mixed nuts, I suspect these sacred 10 pounds will be back. I suspect the inevitable return to a midnight scoop of sherbet will bring us both back to very familiar territory. Fat and Happy!

Words to Live By: Boost the mileage, lose ten pounds. It's that simple.