Weighty Issues

I have bloggers block. I didn’t think it was possible, because I always have something to say. I’m one of ‘those’ chatty people you meet when your out-and-about minding your own business. By the time we part either you are running away, or we are exchanging phone numbers.

If I had to guess why I am blocked I would guess it would have something to do with weight loss. At the moment I’m obsessed with it. I am on Spark People everyday. I even set those guys as my home page! (So far I have lost 6 pounds.) Yeah but there is a hitch…I can’t seem to focus on two things at one time.

I never wanted this blog to focus on weight loss; if anything it would be a small component.


You see I think about losing weight way too much as it is, and I needed a safe place to let my mind wander without having the need to calculate calories in, and calories out. What fun is that?
If I write about my weight issues I would rather write about them in a different light using humour, and every day events to showcase my accomplishments, and struggles.

I don’t want to tell you that when I get in the shower I use the seamed up glass, and my finger to manually calculate how long it is going to take me to lose the extra pounds based on how many calories I eat verses how many calories I burn. I am pretty sure you would think I am crazy! (I should be using a white board, and a colourful dry erase marker; am I right?)

I am going to end here. Over the next few days I will be doing some interesting things that will force me to snap out of my weight-focusing-obsession. (I hope.)

PERIOD.

I am lucky enough to be visited by a ‘guest’. (I am using the word guest because this is a public blog, but you should know that in private I use a less flattering descriptive name for my ‘guest’.) For the first 20 years she came every 4 weeks. She was courteous; she wasn’t that much pain to host. Our arrangement for the most part was okay. Besides I didn’t have a choice, because the arrangement was, and is still as iron-clad as a deal with the mafia. There is only one way to get out… (Or I can go through menopause either way it’s a tough deal to break.)

Wait a minute that’s not true I could take birth-control pills to keep her away! But alas I am on medication that doesn’t jive with birth control pills, so it’s a no go for me. But if I could, I would. I would not take the pills that would give me a ‘fake-3-day-guest’ to host. I would take the pills that kept everyone away! I would pay extra for those pills.

Birth control pills were originally manufactured to skip periods all together. But women freaked out, and thought they were pregnant when they didn’t get their period. Because of that; the manufactures were forced to give women a fake period to ease their minds. Good going ladies!

Lately my ‘guest’ is very grouchy when she comes for her visit. She is coming when ever she feels like it; every 10 days, maybe, every 5 weeks- maybe 6. It’s up to her. Nowadays when she does show up she causes havoc; her visits makes me cry. She is a pain in the…you know. The pain I go through is unbearable. I take painkiller after painkiller just to get through her stay. It’s not working. She is winning. Plus she likes to stay longer than usual. What doesn’t she have anywhere else to go?

In fact she is visiting as we speak. I have heating pads, and I am taking Advil to ease the pain. I even have a peppermint candle burning to relax me; so far no change in pain.

I am 35 years old. In the last few weeks I am noticing that I at night I starting to wake up sweaty, when this happens I decide the best way to solve my problem is to give David ALL of the covers. But I then since I have no covers I wake up freezing; then I have to take ALL of the covers away from David. (He looks too hot anyway.)

This has been going on for a few weeks off and on. I mentioned this new development to David, and he said that he has been having night sweats too. Weird. Hmmm…Maybe it’s nothing to worry about.

(Just to be safe I made an appointment with my doctor.)

It’s starting to hit me; what if I am getting old? Last night I had to cater to my ‘guest’s’ every ridiculous, painful whim. My body felt heavy, and I was tired to say the least. I sat down in my chair very slowly, and instantaneously I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I said, ‘I think I have a feeling what it’s going to be like when I get old.’ Then I added for good measure, ‘Maybe I am already old.’

My 12 year old daughter piped up and said, ‘Mom, you’re not old! …Yet.’

‘I heard you say ‘yet’!’

‘Well Mom you’re going to get old soon.’

Ouch. I don’t know what is worse my ‘guest’ erratic behaviour, or reality?

Oh yeah, and another thing I forgot to mention is my ‘guest’ makes me crave the crappy-not-good-for-me-food: onion rings, French fries, cheese burgers, chilli dogs, cookies, brownies, candy, and expensive chocolate (but I will eat cheap chocolate in a pinch).

This is especially difficult this visit, because I am 5 days into my sugar-free recovery program. I haven’t given in to temptation, and I know that I won’t, because I am too stubborn.

Give me cramps, make me cry, make my legs feel heavy, I can handle the back pain, and a head ache. I will not give into your temptations, because I want a tummy tuck! PERIOD.

Yum-Yum-Yum!

Did you notice that Kentucky Fried Chicken changed their name to KFC? Of course you did. You would have to be living on another planet not have gotten that newsletter. Do you know why they thought changing their name was a good idea? You’d have to be dumber than a bag of rocks to not know the reason why. Now I feel bad; what if you didn’t know the reason why? Here I have gone and offended you. To make up for it I will give you the run down- the folks down at Kentucky Fried Chicken decided that if consumers forgot that their chicken was fried then maybe they, being the consumers would buy more. It works for me; if I don’t see the bad-for-me-word in the restaurant’s name then everything in the eating establishment must be good diet food, right?

I live in a small town that doesn’t have a KFC. We have a Kentucky FRIED Chicken. It is old school. We live so far out of the way that advertising executives didn’t find it necessary to spend money on changing something we already knew- that F stood for fried, or maybe those ad guys knew that we country folk wouldn’t care if our chicken was served up fried. We're big boned out here in the country.

I have a friend who loves to eat out, and to try new things. When she comes to Canada she always wants to eat somewhere ‘Canadian’. We don’t have too many authentic Canadian restaurants, so I am running out of places to take her to. I got a brilliant idea, because she loves food; more to the point she loves junk food in particular. I decided to take her to Kentucky FRIED Chicken. She was thrilled. I don’t know if there is a donut, piece of pie or cake, bag of chips, plate of cookies, or cheese burger that she has not sampled, so it was only logical that we went and got some saturated chicken fat to add to her palate.

We ordered our food, and we were forced to wait 11 minutes while our fresh batch of chicken was being FRIED up; we (she) talked about food. I learned that my friend loves to dunk her chicken in her gravy. She orders her steak medium-well done (not well done-medium). This is so the steak juices are the right color, and consistency to dip her French fries into. I learned the last two times her favorite steak house had failed to meet her expectations-Bummer. For the 11 minutes pre-meal, and 50 minutes during the meal she was able to engage me in a conversation about importance of dipping meat into various juices and/or gravies. I learned I was way out of my league when it came to food; we could never go head-to-head.

But I also learned that I am a sugar addict. Last weekend I pulled off my biggest sugar consumption since I was banded. I guess used my friend’s visit to be free-for-all. Where to begin?

I am just going to list my sins:

Thursday:
Kentucky FRIED Chicken
Big Honking container of mash potatoes
One bite of corn

One really high calorie decant donut
(Thursday was my really good day.)

Friday:

Grande Starbucks Mocha
Starbucks Ginger Molasses Cookie
Hot Fudge Brownie Sundae (I did request no whipping cream; that’s got to count for something.)
1 ½ Gourmet cupcakes with each of these cupcakes weighing in with a calorie count of 700 each. That is 1,000 calories

Saturday:
Half of a stale donut
Bag of m&ms
One movie size box of Reece’s Pieces

On Sunday I slept; only I didn’t turn into a butterfly the next day. (Reference to “The Hungry Caterpillar" written by Eric Carle) I just got an upset stomach, and week-end after guilt.

As I said I am a sugar addict. I am three days into recovery. Oh well…At least I am aware, and isn’t that the first step!

Things Swarming Around My Head

I am so annoyed that I am ready to pack my bags, and move out of my house! Do you want to know why? It’s because we have these little flies that have taken up residency at my house without paying rent.

I hate, hate, hate, bugs. They can live outside, and I’ll live inside, and everyone will be at peace. If bugs were meant to live indoors…well they’re just not.

For the last week I have noticed these little buggers flying around my house. They’re not flies, they are not mosquitoes, they’re kind of in-between; they’re a hybrid! I have been swatting at them all the time with no positive results. I even tried Ousting them, but all that happened was that I had really good smelling bugs.

I know I am not the smartest person in the house it is obvious the bugs have one up on me. It didn’t occur to me that the flies were only flying around in the living room. (Our living room is next to our kitchen.) Instead of trying to figure out what was causing the flies; I just kept wishing them gone.

But yesterday the light bulb went on. Follow me on this one:

Two weeks ago I started to drink protein shakes with a banana in them. I had the bananas on the counter, directly over the counter there is a ledge which housed a dying plant. Surprise the bugs were swarming around the dying plant! The bananas were long gone, but the plant was still there. What II didn’t know was that bugs thought dying plants were valuable property.

Out went the plant- and the flies are moving out as well. From now on my bananas will be immediately put in the freezer upon arrival. If I have to I will invest in fake plants, because obviously I can’t be trusted with real ones.

It's so Cold in Here!

I spent the Turkey holidays with my in-laws. The usual fare of turkey, mash potatoes, and apple pie found its way down to my tummy. It was a good day for me; it was a bad day for the turkey.

Since we live a bit away from David’s parents we decided to stay over for the weekend. I love staying over at his parent’s house. I have a strong feeling that my mother-in-law was employed as a manager at a five star hotel in a previous life. She is always fussing about making sure that David, and I have the perfect stay. Our hotel suite- also known to others as the ‘guest room’ has little touches of things that she knows that we will find pleasing. There is even a weight room down the hall from our suite, but just like in any regular hotel stay; we didn’t use it. The towels in the bathroom are big, and ultra fluffy. She even fills the bathroom with little soaps, and shampoos. A free breakfast is served every morning. I'm not talking about the kind of ‘continental breakfast’ that only consist of toast, and little cereal boxes of Special K. Everything is made to order. The only thing that is missing is the ‘guest comment card’ (…and most importantly, the bill.)

If you are ever in her neck of the woods you should book the guest room. I recommend doing it over the holidays, because she also serves a holiday meal to die for with every holiday stay. But book early-space is limited!

If you read my blog you know that I seem to find something not to my exact satisfaction. Sorry David's mom.

(Feel sorry for my waiters, and waitresses. One time while dining out my table had been waiting for the waitress to come back, and refill our drinks. She didn’t. The clock kept ticking, and the ice kept melting. I finally got so fed up that I scooped all the cups off of the table, and carried them to the soda fountain machine where I helped myself. I just want to be clear we had be waiting for over 20 minutes for a drink refill, and I’m not going to even mention how long we waited for our food. The waitress FINALLY returned, I told her my ‘funny story’, which really neither of us found to be very funny, the manager found it to be less funny, because our meals were on the house. Maybe that is why it took so long to get them to us? But when service people do meet my expectations they get a whooper of a tip!)

Here was the rub- the house was cold. No let me restate that; the house was freezing. My nose was cold, my toes were cold, even my eyelids were cold. I was totally sure that if the temperature dropped one more degree I would be able to see my breath in the freezing air. I was wearing hoodies, and long sleeve t-shirts, and I still wasn’t warm. I covered myself up in blankets, and gulped down (free hotel) tea- I was still cold.

For three days, and two nights my teeth chattered, and I wished that I had packed my long-johns. Here was the thing: no one else was cold, so there was no fire coming to warm me up. I talked to 'management' and she looked at me as if I was completely out of my mind. There was no way the thermostat was moving.

When I was 80 pounds heavier I was hot all the time, but since I lost my blubber I am freezing cold. It makes sense, because I was wearing an 80 pound coat. Anyone would notice a difference when they removed their 80 pound coat. But how long will my knees have knock together before my body temperature regulates? Are you going through this? How long does this go on for?

I have to go and turn on the fire.

Go Ahead and Eat a Turkey Today

It’s Gobble-Gobble Day at my family’s house. I don’t refer to it as Thanksgiving, because it’s only the second Monday in October. I think that is too-too early to be putting on a Thanksgiving dinner. Plus I am an American, and to me Thanksgiving should be in November, the Macy’s day parade should on TV, and Santa should be setting up shop in malls across the country.

If I don’t take drastic measures next Tuesday my brain will flip into Christmas mode, and the sad part is that it isn’t even Halloween! I will be drawn to the malls craving Christmas music. My need to use my American Express to by a butt-load of presents for family, friends, and the mailman will be overwhelming. My need for sleep will be replaced by my need to create Christmas cookies with my Kitchen Aid mixer. My neighbours would put their house up for sale, because I will need to spread my Christmas cheer going door-to-door carolling all the way.

I refuse to let that happen! Via the revolution: October 12, 2009 will be known as ‘Gobble-Gobble Day’. Feel free to eat turkey on Monday; after all it’s Gobble-Gobble Day! You and I will get the benefit of the turkey without the after- shock of the Christmas season.

YES!, Drill Sergeant!

I want a tummy tuck; you know that. It’s common knowledge.

I want to get in the best shape of my life. Before my lapband I was a chubby out-of-shape girl. (I hate using the word woman.) Soon after I was banded I started to run, and do stuff that I hadn’t done since I was smaller. But then my port decided to flip, which caused me pain whenever I moved about. I’ll be honest I did try exercising even though I was experiencing pain. But as time went by the pain just worsened. Eventually I was limited to walking. Currently, I am more out-of-shape than I was when I was 80 pounds heavier.

I want to get a tummy tuck. The only downside to a tummy tuck is the 4 to 6 week recovery time. My body treats a recovery time as a recommendation.

For example the lapband has a recovery time of 2 to 4 weeks- try 6 weeks for me. This minor surgery that I just had; had a recovery time of 1 week; I still am not back to normal; it’s been over 2 weeks, and I still have the ‘ouchies’. It is safe to say that I am below the curve when it comes to recovering. I think it might have something to do with all of the medication that I have to take to keep my bipolar in check; 11 pills a day can be hard on my old immune system.

I like the path of least resistance. Should I exercise, or have a tummy tuck? I decided to compare the two options out based on simple mathematics. Here is the formula I used:

A tummy tuck usually takes 4 to 6 weeks to recover from, so knowing me the way I do I made my recovery time 8 weeks. I also quantified my projected level of pain.

Tummy Tuck Pain for 8 Weeks:

Hours of Dreadful-Pain-I-Think-I-Am-Going-To-Die; I know that I will be in this pain for at least 24 hours during the first three days: (24 hours X 3 days)

Hours of Yucky-Pain-That-Causes-Me-To-Be-Really-Grumpy-And-Oh-My-God-This-Still-Hurts; this pain will take up next 4 days, and be non-stop: (24hours X 4 days)

Hours of I-Am-Really-Sore-Why-Did-I-Do-This-Again?-Pain; there goes the next two weeks for an average of every waking moment, so that works out to be 16 hours a day: (16hours X 14 days)

Hours of Ouch-This-Really-Hurts; this pain should keep me entertained for the next 2 weeks for an average of 8 hours a day: (8 hours X 14 days)

Hours of Now-This-Is-Really-Pissing-Me-Off-Pain; a week long of pure bitchy pain for an average of 5 hours a day: (5 hours X 7 days)

Hours of This-Kinda-Still-Stings-So-Feel-Free-To-Pity-Me; this pain will be the last 2 weeks with an average of 3 hours a day: (3 hours X 14 days)

For a grand total of 581 hours of pain!

I haven’t even mentioned that showering is going to be a bitch. (Oh how I do love sponge bathes!) I’ll have drain coming out of my tummy. My mobility will be limited. David will have to take 2 weeks off of work to cater to my every need. Overall it won’t be very fun.

Am I talking myself out of it?

No I am still going to do it, but I am getting my self prepared, I am getting my head screwed on right. I am getting my mojo going.

I am thinking of joining a military style boot camp. The kind that makes you wish you were dead. I also promised to join David’s triathlon club. I am getting in shape first. I want to be toned.

From what I have been reading the more fit you are the better your tummy tuck recovery time will be.

I’m not stupid. Once this information became available to me I said, ‘Sign me up, and hit me with your best shot Drill Sergeant!’

I believe that the torture that I have to endure during boot camp will allow me to shave off 10% off of my overall recovery time which is 51 hours. (See, I am pretty good at math.) Bring it on Drill Sergeant!

I am planning my tuck in March of 2010, because I want to look rad in a bathing suit; even if it is just a one piece.

I'd Rather Be Bipolar Than a 12 Year Old Girl

You heard me. I’d rather be bipolar than be 12 year old girl. There is something out there called ‘girl world’, and up until now I have been oblivious to it. But then middle school happened, and somewhere between June and September little girls became tweens with their own agendas.

Last year it was all about homework, crushing on boys, and sports. This year it's all about being popular, and being popular. When did the sugar-and-spice-and-everything-nice-train derail?

My friend Teri has an older daughter, and she would tell me horror stories of ‘girl world’, and how mean and catty 7th grade girls can be. I would let the information go in one ear, and out the other. I thought we would be immune to it. To be perfectly honest I thought ‘girl world’ was an urban legend. I didn’t pay attention.

This is an actual example of ‘girl world’. I have tried to write it in such a way that you will understand what transpired between 4 girls; who are living in the nightmare of tweendom.

(I have edited out the “likes”, and the “ums” for ease of reading.)

Setting- Cafeteria at Holly’s middle school

Girl #1- We’ll call Betty- everyone wants to beat Betty up. She is supposed to be a mean girl.

Girl #2- We’ll call Jane- Jane and Betty do not get along. Jane is a friend of Holly’s.

Girl #3- We’ll call Sally- Sally is a friend of Jane and Holly. Apparently Sally doesn’t like Betty either.

…and then there was Holly. Holly likes all three girls.

Jane decided that she had had enough of Betty pushing her around, so Jane started a duke-it-out-fight with Sally in the cafeteria. Since both girls are Holly’s friends; Holly got in the middle of the fight, and stopped it. (It also helped that there was a teacher near by.)

Somewhere between lunch and afterschool Sally decided that Betty needed a beat-down, so she too was going to take on Betty after school. Now this really tickled Jane to death, because Jane was in no position to beat up Betty. However Sally decided that beating up Betty wasn’t such a hot idea, so the fight got cancelled.

Now Jane is mad at Holly, because Holly got in the way of the lunch time brawl. Jane feels that Holly should have stuck up for her, and let her beat up Betty.

(Not that could never have happened. Jane-the poor girl is extremely overweight, and gets winded going up the stairs. To make matters worse Betty is in-shape.)

Two things you should know-

Betty didn’t want to fight Jane.

Betty can be a hell raiser at times, and Betty probably has pissed Jane off legitimately. (I had talkings to Betty about being a brat in the past.)

Anywhoo, Jane decided that she didn’t want Holly as a friend because Holly didn’t let the fight happen in the cafeteria, so she dumped Holly via MSN. Jane also got a 4th girl who also doesn't like Betty to dump Holly.

(Are you still keeping up?)


Truth be told Holly isn’t even that close to Betty. Betty doesn’t come over and hang out. It is not that kind of relationship. Holly said that they are acquaintances.

Holly went to school today, and guess what- Meany Jane wanted to be friends! Holly could not understand the change in attitude. Holly has yet to accept the offer of renewed friendship, because in Holly’s words: ‘It’s all too confusing. I don’t need this drama.’

When she was leaving science class Holly muttered, ‘I don’t understand anything about girl world.’ Her teacher called back, ‘This is just the beginning.’

Lord help us.

Bombing The FCC!

Due to my minor surgery major recovery I was held up in my bedroom which became a make-shift hospital room. I didn’t mind too much, because there were benefits that my bedroom had that a hospital room didn’t. Instead of sleeping on those scratchy hospital sheets my bed was fitted with Egyptian 600 thread count cotton sheets, oh la la! But the main thing that I liked about my own room versus a hospital room is my TV. I have 600 channels of pure indulgence. Not only that but I have a DVR, which means if I dozed off while my favorite show is on I could rewind it when I woke up.

(If you’re in charge of a hospital I implore you to outfit your patient’s rooms with a flat screen TV, and a DVR. Let’s face it happy people heal faster.)

The hospitals do have one thing going for them- adjustable beds. I had to waste all of my time, and energy propping up my pillows to get them just right. If I had the Craftmatic Adjustable bed this wouldn’t have been an issue. With a press of a button I would have perfect comfort. (I’d better copyright that.)

For a few years I have been begging David to get me a Craftmatic bed, but he hasn’t taken the bait yet. I think I better step up my campaign to get me one. Craftmatic beds are not just for old people! (Do you think I should copyright that one too?)

After fussing with my pillows for an eternity I got down to some serious TV watching. Since there was nothing else to really do I was forced to actually pay attention, and since I was actually paying attention I started to notice a lot of ‘bleeps’. Wait a minute aren’t 'bleeps' in place of swears? Why are there so many 'bleeps' on television?

I watch a lot of reality television-it’s my favorite. The contestants love to swear! I can’t figure it out the logic behind it. Why would you go on national TV and look so uneducated? F-bombs fly everywhere. If it were me I would do my very best to keep them in check.

Even Dr. Phil is bleeping. ‘That is one bleeped up marriage.’ Oh come on now it is 3:00pm in the afternoon, and you are an educated man. I am sure your vocabulary includes more constructive adjectives to describe a bad marriage.

So when did it become okay to sink to the lowest common denominator? When did Dr. Phil decide that in order to make his point clear to the masses he would have to use foul language? I guess he was just 'bleeping' his way to higher ratings!

It is safe to assume that everyone has thrown some cuss words around. But it is also safe to assume most of us know when to turn it off. I don’t go to work and drop the f-bomb in front of my boss, or clients, because I would probably lose my job. Or would I?

Last week I called in to Yahoo and I spoke to a tech. He helped me with the website that I am building. He was great. He spent a lot of his time helping me. He became frustrated at times. After spending 20 minutes on the phone with me I guess he figured that we were close enough to start dropping ‘shits’ and ‘damns’, and 10 minutes later we were so tight that the f-bombs came rolling out. It didn’t bother me as much as it worried me. When and how did it become okay to swear at work?

I am not judging because I use the f-word in the most creative ways that it would make you blush. Some would say I have a gift. But I like to think I know when to turn it off. Am I being too hard on Dr. Phil, and my tech? After all they are human, and it’s our society that is tolerating it. Maybe someday soon the FCC will feel comfortable enough to stop bleeping out the ‘fuh-bleeps’. They are not fooling us; we all know what is behind the bleep. If you’re gonna swear stand up and be proud! No more bleeps! Hell Yeah!

The FCC has deemed that there are only 7 words that are not suitable for TV.
One is the F bomb, one is shit, one is piss, and you will just have to figure out the rest, because I refuse to include them on my wholesome blog.

Please don’t misunderstand me I don’t mind swearing on television. My favorite show is The Sopranos, but I paid for the privilege of hearing Tony, and his crew chew up my TV set with their potty mouths. I just don’t know if Dr. Phil should lower himself to the same standards as Tony Soprano.

*One of the first incidents of foul language spoken on American television was uttered by James T. Kirk in 1965 when he said, ‘Hell.’ Leave it to him to go where no man had ever gone before.

My Two Year Wish

It was my 2nd 'banniversary' yesterday.
All I want is a TUMMY TUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am tired of having a spare inflated tired around my middle. Yuck!
6 months baby, and I am getting a tummy tuck.
I REALLY WANT A TUMMY TUCK!
(Have you noticed that this blog is always about me, and what I want!)

IAM GOING TO GET A TUMMY TUCK!

I feel much better now...

I am Tired of Living in the Shadows

Someone once said to me, ‘Figure out if you want a life, or if you don’t, but either way make up your mind.’ It was my physician. I know that sounds harsh, but I was depressed at the time, and I was stuck in-between feeling sorry for myself, and feeling sorry for myself. Don’t worry he knew he wasn’t risking my life. It wasn’t like I was prepared to jump in front of the next bus rolling down the road.

I think what he meant is that I had choices, but I wasn’t giving myself the permission to exercise them. In order to move forward I would have to figure out what made me happy, and then just go with it. There was just one big problem I was depressed. How can I expected to find out what makes me happy when all I wanted to do is watch crappy TV, and sleep all day?

I have good and bad qualities just like everyone else, but one of my good qualities is that I am not a ‘Yeah But Person’, which means if someone gives me an idea or suggestion I don’t immediately shoot them down with a ‘yeah, but…’ response. I take in the advice, filter it, and then come up with my own conclusion, which leads to an outcome that either works for me, or it doesn’t.

When my good doctor said what he said I could feel my eyes getting big because I thought, ‘How did he know that I wasn’t living?’ I walked away knowing that I would have to come up with a plan for my life so I will be able to feel better in my own skin.

My problem is I rely too much on other people to make me happy. I hate being alone. I am just an acquaintance to myself; thus watching crappy TV is much better than making small talk with myself.

I have finally decided to live for real and for true, which means that I must find myself. I don’t know if I am going to like this part, or find it painful. To be completely honest I have been surviving for so long that I have to idea how to live.

You know that old saying: If you stuck a piece a coal up someone’s ass in two weeks you would have a diamond; they are that uptight. Well that is me. I just need to find a lot of coal and I would be rich.

It is time to restructure, revamp, and have faith. I will keep you up-to-date on my progress.

Sorting Laundry During the Night

It’s 4 in the morning, and I am wide away. It was by accident. I am hot, because my fan was going the wrong way which made it blow hot air. My room is now a sauna.

Now I am hot, awake, and watching infomercials: Dr. Ho’s Massage System, Tommy Horton’s 10 minute workout, and I just found an infomercial for The Bullet Express.

I want The Bullet Express! I’m drawn in, and now I must have one. And look it comes with juicer which is a $150 dollar value! 6 easy payments of 19.99, nice! My tone might say that I’m kidding, but in reality I’m not. I really want one. Right now as I type I am thinking about going to the website, and impulsively ordering one. How many weeks until Christmas??? David loves cook. (Nice going Amy, David reads your blog; now he won’t be surprised about his Christmas gift.) It wouldn’t have mattered anyway he would saw the charge when he paid the credit card bill.

…6 hours later…yawn…

I just made a great protein drink. Here is the recipe:

1 scoop of chocolate protein powder
¼ cup of plain non-fat, sugar free yogurt
1 cup of milk
1 banana
Ice

Put the powder, milk, and yogurt, in the blender, and blend until very frothy. Then add the banana, and ice and blend again.

I use small ice cubes, but if you want to use regular size ice cubes add a few in at a time. Don’t add all of them in one shot. You want to keep the frothiness.

The drink comes out all cold and frothy, and the best part is that it does not taste like a protein drink. (‘cause I hate protein drinks.) Depending on how much ice you put in you should have 36oz. It is very filling, because it is frothy. I find most protein drinks only fill me up for about an hour or so, but this one does the trick for about 4 hours. Total calories: 244.

You really should try it if you like to drink protein drinks.

I am recovering nicely with one small infection- I mean exception. Yeah my stitches got infected, which means it hurts. I am not allowed to bend over, because it pulls on the stitches.

Simon is a strange dog. He digs through our laundry, and finds my socks, and then he PAIRS them together, finally he places them all over the house. I have all different color socks, so it isn’t just a coincidence. He doesn’t chew on them. I know weird. Nobody believes me until they see it for themselves, many have, and many minds have been changed.

Last night my beloved dog was busy. He decided to ‘sort’ my socks. My socks are all over my living room. It is driving me crazy. I want to bend down, and pick them up. I can’t. I have spent all morning begging him to move my socks back to the laundry room. Instead he is sleeping peacefully. He has a smile on his face most likely because he is proud of his last night’s sock sorting adventures.

I haven’t written much in my blog, because there is nothing going on in my life. I am still stuck in my chair. (I noticed that no one has answered my S.O.S.) When you’re not doing too much there really isn’t too much to write about. We’ll see maybe my butt will become one with the chair; that would be a good blog entry.