No Peeps, 5.5 Pounds, and Despair, Inc.

No Peeps
Last night was supposed to be water aerobics and then Knit Night. With a stop at Sonic for a half-price burger and [oh, so disciplined of me!] no fries, in between. By the time that I logged off my workstation after a very productive day, I knew that what I needed more than movement, time with friends, or dead cow, was some time to myself. So I blew right past the exit for the Natatorium, Ray Charles rocking on my speakers with The Eagles for dessert, past the coffee shop where my friends would be gathering, past the bread thrift shop [because it was closed] and home.

Dinner was a package of Lipton/Knorr Parmesan noodles, with a brick of frozen chopped spinach nuked, drained and stirred in. I wanted something filling, relatively healthy, and quick. It made enough for a bowl of comfort last night and a good lunch today. After dinner, I put in Take the Lead, curled up on the couch with Firestarter and finished the last two repeats of the mock cable pattern and XX rows of the cuff.

And every so often I stood up and danced to the music, so I was not *entirely* slothful.

Much as I love spending time with my Sisters of the Wool, sometimes I just need to hole up for an evening.

5.5 Pounds
I am not all that into weighing myself. [I was going to say “not all that big into weighing myself”, but that just made me snort. And then giggle.] I can tell by looking at my face in the mirror, or by how loosely my watch wristband fits, whether I am gaining or losing.

I weighed myself about a month ago, around the time that I started the water aerobics classes. And it was five pounds more than the last time I weighed in at my doctor’s office, when she cleared her throat and flapped her eyebrows at me.

She is the kindest of women and has never made an issue of my weight, because all my other numbers are stellar. But I put on about 20 pounds last year, while I was dealing with the broken leg and the broken heart and the slowed metabolism because of the sleep apnea. And neither of us was thrilled about that.

Last Wednesday afternoon, after eating lunch and while wearing a heavy cotton sweater, the scales showed that I had lost a grand total of 1.5 pounds [.68kg]. I was a little bummed. Yes, the point is not to wake up one morning with my girlish figure; maybe when I get my resurrected body? The point is to move more freely and to have more stamina.

But Thursday morning, after the first half of my breakfast and dressed as I normally would, the total was more like 5.5 pounds [2.5kg]. And if I could have turned cartwheels, I would! [That’s on my list of things to learn when I *do* get my resurrected body. That, and how to give myself masses of curly red hair. There are no tangles, humidity, or head lice in Heaven. No such thing as a bad hair day. Right? Oh, and I’d like freckles, too. Not age spots. Not these tiny red splotchy things that are cropping up on my middle-aged body, or the skin tags on my neck, or the eyebrows that have mysteriously migrated down to my chin.]

Where was I?

I just tried on a red fitted blouse that I wanted to wear to work today. It’s too big. Which segues nicely into the next topic...

Despair, Inc.
[This is the part where I am kicking myself, ever so gently, for having forgotten to mail myself what I wrote early yesterday morning before I got so busy at my desk.] One of my co-workers got a package from Despair, Inc. And since I am such a perfect Pandora, I immediately went online to check them out. Before you follow suit, please make sure that you have chewed and swallowed your granola, pizza, or whatever you might be munching on while at your computer. And swallow your milk, or cover your keyboard. And it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a little trip down the hall, particularly if you are middle-aged and multiparous. Just saying.

OK, here you go. I particularly like the BitterSweets. What did my co-worker buy? This shirt. I like this one.

They even have a demotivation poster wizard. Behold:



Used with permission. We now return you to your regularly scheduled knitting.