Kaaaa-choooooo!

Probably stirred up by cleaning out the third bookcase. Lots of dust. And a surprising amount of Gracie fur that had sifted in behind the notebooks. I started sneezing on Friday. I am the new sacrament meeting chorister. Church is in six hours. And I don't think these people have ever heard me sneeze.

I sneezed during my mechanical drawing final, my senior year in high school, and almost all of the guys jumped so hard that they snapped the lead on their pencils. Definitely not something you want to hear during moments of reverence and quiet contemplation. (Although there would likely be less, or less audible, cussing in reaction.)

So I went on the hunt. Somewhere in this house is a Ziploc with the last of the Mucinex. What I came up with, under Beloved's sink, were two tabs of Alavert. After researching possible drug interactions, and getting multiple reassurances that I would not keel over, I took one. It's not supposed to make me drowsy.

Wish me luck.

In other news, the bookcase is emptied, dusted, and moved. I had just enough painter's tape to mask off the area above my studio door and the east wall of the hall. It felt great to go to bed last night with that accomplished.

I've cleared most of the bags out of the living room. The largest but not heaviest will go to church with me. Squishy will get the last two after I get home from Empty Nesters tomorrow night. And that will be that until the next batch.

Because I'm in this for the long haul, and there is always going to be another batch.  However, I have a functional bathroom, and the dining room looks great except for the quilt block clutter. I hope to deal with that sometime today.

(Painting a wall counts as "labor" in my book. Not so much the actual painting, but I haven't done the cutting-in. Cutting-in has a high PITA factor.) Sewing a quilt block doesn't seem like work to me. And is therefore Sabbath-appropriate. At least in my world. Whereas sewing together an entire quilt block would probably be work.

Hrmm. This is beginning to sound like "you can only walk so many steps on the Sabbath before it turns into work and you're going to hell". I might want to rethink this. As I'm sewing the quilt block?

One hour. No sneezing. This could work.

I've commented before that I have an impressive collection of cookbooks, because everyone needs a rich fantasy life, and I like to keep mine G-rated. Last night I brought home a book on home management. It is wonderfully well-written. Except for my teenage years, I've never felt that housework was beneath me. I have frequently felt that it was beyond me.

On the trip to Nauvoo, one of the sisters commented about how we women base our self-esteem on how our house looks and how our children behave. I cracked that I must be a man in drag.

Housework has been both a battle of wits against the forces of entropy and a lifelong battle of wills with my mother (even 16 years after her passing), who quite reasonably expected me to be a participating member of the household, while I wanted to read or play or daydream.

Chores were something to be gotten through. I learned the mechanics, but I never gained a testimony of housekeeping. I read Daryl Hoole's books on the domestic arts, and she might as well have been speaking Sanskrit. I bought "Sidetracked Home Executives" and made the index cards. But I rapidly reached the point where there were more people making messes than there were cleaning them up, and everything fell apart. For years. I would feel frustrated and guilty and depressed, and I would make forays into order. The good guys would win for awhile, and then *meh*.

This woman (Cheryl Mendelson) and her book (Home Comforts: The Art and Science of Keeping House) make sense to me. It's a huge book, 894 pages. And it's written for rank beginners as well as seasoned homemakers.

That clean, fresh scent? Hope.

The end is near.

No, I am not in doomsday mode. I am about this [    ] far from emptying the third bookcase. And I needed to take a little break before tackling the last few notebooks.

I had a moment of stark incomprehension before placing the five dutch oven cookbooks into the bag for Squishy and his brothers. One of those times when I realize how much there is to know about a seemingly simple topic. And how different Beloved's interests and mine could be. It truly does take all kinds to make a world. Or a universe. I'll be in charge of nakedness prevention. Beloved can be in charge of feeding the hordes.

I do miss that man. Today, rather fiercely. But I wouldn't call it loneliness. Just feeling the connection. Sorting this particular bookcase has been more time consuming and thought provoking, because the others have been mostly filled with books. This one has had notebook after notebook. Training manuals. Resumes. Genealogy. Personal information that has needed to be delegated or shredded.

I am almost there. And a little worn out from the tenderness. (I certainly haven't been working hard enough to break a sweat.) So I think I will knit for a few minutes, and read for a few more, and then take a short nap. And then maybe I can wrangle the last couple of notebooks, move the empty bookcase, and start painting a wall or two.

Adventures in sundry places.

Arkansas, Thursday night and Friday morning

Freight train broke down on the line ahead of us. We sat for over an hour, not far beyond Texarkana. Power went off a couple of times but only for a few minutes each time.

We sat again in Little Rock, for who knows how long. At 3:16 am we started moving. I still hadn't slept. Stopped again. I dozed for maybe half an hour. Two freight trains rolled by. [This train I'm riding is 21 coaches long. (Not.) Thank you, Worried Man Blues.]

Missouri, most of Friday

The Mississippi, at St. Louis, is huge. And dirty. Impressive only for scale and not for grandeur. Apparently it's prettier when viewed from the observation deck on the upper level.

Breakfast was tasty. Overpriced, but tasty.

At this point we were running about four hours behind. I had zero interest in sightseeing. I wanted a shower, and clean clothing, and a minimum of five hours of unbroken sleep. In no particular order.

South St. Louis is full of the little old houses that I love. And I had "St. Louis Blues" looping in my head. I thought you should know.

Illinois, Friday afternoon

It was evident as we crossed the river that Illinois is doing much better than Missouri.

By the time we got to Springfield, we were six hours behind. The Amtrak trains are slotted around the freight trains. So the problem with that first train just kept snowballing. We bagged all the carefully planned sightseeing in favor of heading straight for the British pageant.

At Springfield I had been up for 33 hours, more or less. When we arrived at Nauvoo, it had been 37 hours. (By the time I got to bed it was closer to 40.) Lots of food and/or snacks.

The Mississippi is a whale of a lot more impressive at Nauvoo.

The British pageant was lovely. I just peeled out of the support hose I put on under my jeans yesterday. Happy ankles.

I. Am. So. Tired.

Carthage and Nauvoo, Saturday

I had so many spiritual experiences that it will take me weeks to process them. Observing the dungeon cell where Joseph and the others spent some time before being moved upstairs. Looking out the window through which he fell after he was shot. Visiting the Smith family cemetary.

We saw the Nauvoo pageant Saturday night, after catching the final session in the temple. Sharing a house and a shower with eight women was surprisingly peaceful.

Nauvoo, Sunday morning
Nauvoo is a small town of 1100 people, when it's not tourist season. From April through October, there are 800 missionaries and who knows how many visitors. The Visitors Center is lovely, quiet, and impressive. I stood at the feet of the Christus statue replica and pondered. And again at the foot of another marble portraying the First Vision. Beautiful, moving, inspired work. I cannot comprehend the talent that goes into making that kind of art.

There is nothing like singing "Praise to the Man Who Communed with Jehovah" in Nauvoo First Ward. Nothing.

Amtrak, Sunday afternoon and overnight
Nowhere near as exhausting as the trip up. My take-aways? I like riding on the train, per se, although it took me two or three days at home before I didn't feel as if I were still on the train, when I closed my eyes in the shower. Very discombobulating. I still have the cross-Canadian railway trip on my bucket list, but if I go it will be with a sleeper car reservation. When I go to Nauvoo again, and I will, I will fly or drive. The food on Amtrak is surprisingly good. Not gourmet by any stretch of the imagination, but far better than I expected. Support stockings under jeans are adequate for the prevention of exploding ankles. Traveling with nearly two dozen people is not crazy-making. I would do that again. The trip was well-planned, and any glitches were not the fault of the planners. I was wise to take the extra day off.

Nauvoo

This was on my bucket list for many, many years. Every Latter Day Saint who can do so, owes it to himself to go to Nauvoo. It has been an adventure replete with changed plans and minor frustrations, but it has not been a disappointment.

This place is holy ground. It has been sanctified by the prayers, faith, sacrifices, and deaths of my people. I have stood where Joseph stood. I have sat in the window from which he fell when he was murdered. I have worshipped and served in the rebuilt temple, which is exquisite in every detail. I have sung "Praise to the Man Who Communed with Jehovah" in the Nauvoo First Ward with 1500 fellow Saints. I have stood at the feet of the Christus statue in the visitors' center. I have seen the new British pageant and the Nauvoo pageant. And the newest temple film.

I will share the adventures and mishaps when I get back to work and can edit the draft I began on Thursday night.

Before I board the train for home, I want to leave you with this: Joseph was a prophet. The gospel is true. The Book of Mormon is the word of God.

More breathing.

Picked up my new shelving units yesterday. "Picked up" in the relative sense, as the boxes weigh 50 pounds apiece. Skinny dude a little older than I wrangled them onto my cart. Skinny dude a lot younger than I wrangled them into the back of the Tardis. Where they remain for the moment. I have yet to nail the baseboards in the closet. Until that happens and the shelving units have a place to go, that's where they'll stay.

Meanwhile, I emptied out the second bookcase, moved it, and refilled it. I am that much closer to being able to repaint the hall and rip up the carpet. None of which is happening today.

Today I am going to make birthday cards and wrap presents. Nice quiet activities for the Sabbath.

I realized with some dismay when I awoke yesterday that I need to buy pajamas. I will be vacationing with friends this summer. We are renting a house. It is one thing to throw on Beloved's Packers sweatshirt when the weather is cold. Or to sleep in a worn T-shirt and 18 year old pajama bottoms during the summer. The one is insufficiently modest for company. The other is frugal and a little forlorn.

So we know what FHE will look like tomorrow night. While I don't mind shopping, I don't want to spend a lot of money on something I'll wear a few times and then be too small for.

Anyone who says that women dress for men, is deluded.

In knitting news, the sweater for Middlest's doll went out in yesterday's mail. Along with several years' worth of gifts from Fourthborn. And I have nearly the first round completed on a cowl from the sultry silk blend yarn. That will be my church knitting today.

You know the drill: be good, and remember who you are.

Yup. Still breathing.

Just in case you were wondering.

I woke a little ahead of the alarm this morning and finished the neck shaping on the doll sweater. It's blocking on the ironing board as we speak.

Tonight I'll stitch it together and figure out the neckband. This will be my first evening at home since Sunday night. I'm glad for the time with family and friends. I am also tired.

And I have no idea what to take for knitting today. Maybe it's time to fire up another cowl? I have some silk blend sock yarn in sultry jewel tones. And it's already wound. My size 4 Addi Natura circ was waving hello from next to the dark chocolate. I think I'll see if the yarn and the needles want to play together.

Be good. 

Tuesday is trash day.

The old baseboards have been divested of their nails and are waiting on the curb. My wonderful neighbor cut the new ones yesterday. I've nailed two in place and moved the armoire into the corner and unfurled the area rug.* The drop leaf table and lamps are back in place. I baked a pan of lasagna and took it across the street. One of the three bookcases in the hall has been emptied, moved into the space that the armoire vacated, and refilled.

*Which I love, but not necessarily for the dining room. I think it might be more suitable for the living room.

What I think needs to get done by Tuesday morning: empty and move the other two bookcases. Pull up the carpet in both halls and schlep it to the curb. Remove the old baseboards. Remove the nails from the old baseboards. Pull up the tack strips. Put the bag of small baseboard scraps, pulled nails, and short lengths of tack strips on the curb.

And today is the Sabbath. I love the Sabbath. I want to honor it. I need a day between today and Monday, preferably one that nobody else knows about. Because I don't see anything on my list that doesn't come under the heading of work.

The one thing I could do, is grab some paper bags and put them by the bookcases. There's a whole lot of non-book stuff that got put in there at one time or another.** I just looked at it. Made me tired. Dividing the keep from the donate from the trash would definitely come under the heading of work. But I can gather up bags and be prepared for a more appropriate time.

**What was the handle for my mandoline doing in there? Do I even still have my mandoline, or did I give it away in an earlier purge?

I am ravenous. I didn't eat breakfast until afternoon. And I was too tired to fix dinner for myself after making the lasagna for my neighbors, so I just drove out to recycle the water bottles and picked up Arby's on the way home. I ate breakfast an hour ago, and my stomach is yelling that my throat's been cut.

Fixing that is definitely a Sabbath appropriate activity. If the rest of it is done by trash pickup a week from Tuesday, it is still forward progress.

For those of you not following along on FB.

I spent most of Friday and a little bit of yesterday laying down the new flooring in the dining room. I think that I have never been so thankful for a Sabbath in my life!

I'm not quite as stiff today as I was yesterday. There is no way I could have done this before I started going to the gym. None. And I haven't gone since Thursday morning, but I have definitely been getting a workout.

I'll finish that corner tomorrow after work. That's the plan, anyway. Cutting the planks to fit around the moulding is fiddly business. I was able to flip and tweak my paper template from the bit on the right. Maybe it won't take me an hour and a childbirth word or two to do the one on the left, which comes just at the end of a plank. The hardest part of the inside of the closet is done. Once I get the moulding accounted for, the rest of the closet will be a snap.

And what I learned in doing the tough corner of the closet, which will barely show when the shelving units are in place, will stand me in good stead when doing a similar corner in the entry, where precision or the lack thereof will be far more noticeable.

I can't wait to rip up the carpet in the living room and get going in there.

But for now I am reveling in the fact that today is the Sabbath, and finish-itis can just go pout in the corner.

Smoke. Mirrors. Underwires.

It was a B2G2 sale. And I am more than a full cup size down. So I bought two the next band size and  cup size down, because the bras I like do not come in the new cup size in my current band size. (And I don't trust the engineering of the bras that do.) Perfecto, once I add the band extenders I bought at Hancock's after that. The other two bras are two band sizes and one cup size down. It seemed like a reasonable approximation of where I'll be in another six months.

I am hoping that when I have reached my target weight, I can resume buying nice boring full coverage bras from Wally World, without extenders. And not have to rein in the girls with industrial strength models from Lane Bryant.

I hope Beloved is not disappointed that the girls are waning. I know he is busy with important stuff for the Kingdom on his side of mortality. And he was more of a generalist than a boob man. And he's got FirstWife right there to keep him on the straight and narrow if he wanders too far down memory lane. (Or mammary lane, as the case might be.) I just don't want to hear, "You weren't kidding about the Tina Turner legs! But where did the girls go?"

Am I the only one who wonders what is going to support them when I have my resurrected body? Maybe they will become immune to gravity. Pretty sure there won't be underwires in Heaven.

In knitting news, I nearly finished the first back of the doll sweater last night. I will be working on the dining room today, with frequent breaks for knitting. I hope to make significant progress on the second back.

White jeans.

People who buy them should maybe ponder the advisability of washing the car before wearing the jeans. And I probably should have bought the talls. The average are on the cusp of being high water, and they haven't been laundered yet.

I rocked them anyway. Buying jeans in a smaller size is a treat. Buying bras in a smaller size is a little demoralizing. And something of a guessing game. Lane Bryant has a B2G2 sale going. Or maybe it's a buy 2 get 2 half off sale. I need to find that coupon.

I think the solution is to buy two in the current band size, one cup smaller. And the other two, another cup smaller. I think that might be a good approximation. I can finesse the fit by tightening the band.

Meanwhile, I am wearing the other new jeans to work today. And heading to Lane Bryant tonight.

It's raining cats and dogs and little fishes. I bagged the gym this morning. The lightning was impressive, and a bit intimidating. Wish I could just stay home and knit and putter today.

Tack strips are gone.

Floor is swept and vacuumed and partially mopped. I ran out of steam about a third of the way through. And I could see where I'd been when I glanced in there on my way out the door this morning. On the one hand, kinda gross. On the other, somewhat encouraging.

And what a morning it has been. Another staff meeting. A little over an hour and a half. Mail out the wazoo, nearly all of it for one case. A deposition with seventeen attachments, all of which needed to be saved first to the incoming mail folder, then to the docketing system, and finally sent to an expert for review. Oye to the veh.

Started my lunch half an hour late. I've finished yesterday's salad. And most of yesterday's entrée. But what I want to do is go home and take a nice long nap. The HP's are supposed to come tonight to dedicate my house. I thought they were coming last week, but there was a scheduling conflict. Maybe tonight I can finish mopping the floor and pull the rest of the baseboards and start putting down the vinyl planks. Even if I don't get it all done, it would be so nice to go to bed with a good size corner of it completed.

A girl can dream. I can picture that room with the flooring done, the area rug in place, and the table set for company.

I pulled the carpet.

But I did not pull the SUV. (No, I don't have an SUV. That was the first thing that came to mind, that fit the melody.) I pulled the carpet and left it in a pile on the floor and took my second nap of the day. When I woke up, I realized that it was too much for me to wrangle on my own. The neighbor across the street was working in his yard. He dragged. I steered. The padding was much lighter, and I managed it easily. Couldn't have weighed more than two gallons of milk. Just bigger. And floppier.

I've run a broom over the floor and pulled up most of the tack strips. All that's left are the ones in the closet. They will still be there tomorrow. I'll sweep again, and vacuum, and mop the floor at least once. The room echoes like crazy. By this time next week I hope to have the flooring down, the area rug in place, and the furniture arranged.

I have a little aching in my thighs from the bending, sitting, and stooping. But my back feels great. I have to keep moving, even when I'm taking it easy. Otherwise my ankles swell. So the work I did yesterday is not as foolhardy as it might appear. I moved slowly and carefully. I broke the work up into small bites. I rested in between. And I paid attention when I tugged gently on the corner of the carpet, and it was harder to budge as a whole than when I was freeing the corners and piling them in the center of the room. So I called in the cavalry.

Feeling good today. Looking forward to church and reading and all of the knitting I thought I would get done on Friday and Saturday before finish-itis kicked in. I tend to doze off at odd moments (twice during this paragraph), so I may only be good for sacrament meeting. Heading for the shower now.

Be good, and remember who you are.

Random thoughts post biopsy.

Sleep is a wonderful thing. The good snooze fairy visited my house last night.

No pain. The scratchiness in my throat is almost gone.

Being able to eat what I want, when I want, is a small miracle that happens almost every day.

"I'm your CPAP today." One of several great things my anesthesiologist said to me yesterday. Now if I could only get the CPAP at home to talk to me in that Marcus Welby voice.

The sewing table is folded up and put away. I am reasonably sure that I won't be pulling up the carpet today, but that side of the room is cleared for takeoff. I still have my old coffee table (the one made from the door) set up for the painting of baseboards. I could easily finish that without busting a gusset.

But first there is a nap that's calling my name.

Hysteroscopy D&C. Oye.

When I had the pre-op consultation on Tuesday, I learned that today might be more than a simple biopsy. If, while she's in there looking around, the situation warrants it, there will be a C to go with the D. The D was a given. I'm not crazy about the D, but relieved to know that it will be done with increasingly larger somethings rather than by pitocin. (Maybe some of those will be Deep Blue Somethings?)

Hey, I've never had one of these before. And there's so much I don't know about gynecology. My life heretofore has been blessedly uncomplicated in that department: PMS from menarche until menopause. Cramps added to the recipe when I hit 40. No hot flashes. A gradual unwinding from Hey We're Fertile, Myrtle. Five or six years of silence from my girl bits.

I will update after the procedure.

In other news, I have been finishing projects right and left. The fourth picture from last weekend is now properly seated in its frame. I sprung for a nice frame for my favorite skinny poster and put them together after work last night. I've finished the painting on another project and am in the process of sealing it with matte acrylic. Stinky business.

I've borrowed a laser level from a friend and have spent part of the morning moving more stuff out of the dining room so I may rip up the carpet. Which will obviously not be happening today.

*************

It's later. I'm comfortable. Especially since I am now able to eat and drink. We went to Black Eyed Pea. I inhaled a roll and butter, my red beans and rice, my glazed carrots, and a few bites of my ginger sesame salmon. I also ate the half dozen bites of broccoli that garnished the salmon. Testament to the wonder which is ginger sesame sauce.

Apparently I snored during  the procedure.  Can't have been anywhere near as impressive as Beloved's snoring. One of the few things about him that I do not miss. I always felt as if I were sleeping in the flight path for military transport.

They gave me two anti-nausea meds which must have done the trick. All I felt was bubbly pressure in my stomach, which is quietly and steadily mutating into what I suspect will be industrial strength toots in a couple of hours. The pressure, not my stomach. I kinda need my stomach. I'd like it to stick around awhile.

I might still be the teensiest bit loopy. No comments from the peanut gallery.

Oh, and I'm officially down 30 pounds, and they did a fresh EKG before the procedure because my heart rate was 40. It's nothing dangerous, just a level 1 something where the bundle of stuff that coordinates my heartbeat is not quite right, so something else is coordinating it, and that part is all que pasa? Again, nothing to be concerned about.

I'm going to put my wedding rings back on and drink a few bottles of water and watch some Psych and maybe take a nap. Although I'm starting to feel hungry again.

Weighed myself this morning.

Almost 30 pounds down. I ate more or less constantly all weekend, but it was relatively healthy food in small amounts at frequent intervals.

Sitting here at lunch with one of my killer salads: carrots, sliced almonds, green onions, hard boiled egg slices, corn, black beans, grapes, grape tomatoes, and red butter lettuce. I'm fresh out of diced ham, and I didn't have time to nuke and crumble any turkey bacon. Sometimes I throw in some sliced mushrooms.

I've taken to making three days' worth of salads at a time. Ranch on the bottom, layers above that, and lettuce on top the day my salad goes to work with me. It doesn't take more than a couple of extra minutes to do three when I could be doing only one, so over the course of a week I significantly declutter my calendar. More time for knitting.

I've given myself quite the honey-do list for FHE tonight. A whole raft of piddly things that I've been putting off just that much too long. If I get it all done before bedtime, you will probably be able to hear the yeehaws from halfway around the world.

Wish me luck. 

It was another good day.

Lots of small tasks accomplished. Minimal running about like the proverbial chicken. New glass in the print of a smiling Savior, which I inherited from Beloved. (I think it's a Del Parson.) New frame on the print of the public library in Fredericksburg, which is housed in an old stone mansion. Gold leaf on glass picture of the Salt Lake Temple that I made in Relief Society the year that Secondborn joined us, put back in its frame and reinforced so maybe it won't pop back out again.

Antique gold paint bought to spiff up the frame of a painting of trees, on wood, that I've had since shortly after the divorce. I might get to that sometime today. I want to sew the current quilt block and schlep all the sewing stuff back into my studio.

Wes and Sarah came over after their date on Friday night. He put my new box cutter back together after I took it apart rather more than intended. And he came up with a great idea for the placement of the vinyl plank flooring. We discovered that under the carpet is some really ugly linoleum.

I am going to lay down a grid with a Sharpie on said ugly linoleum so that I may place the planks on the diagonal, which neatly solves the problem of wanting them to run one way in the dining room and another way in the living room. There will be more wastage. I can buy more planks, and if knitting has taught me nothing else, it's how to manage different dye lots should that be an issue.

The second sleeve of the doll sweater is nearly done. I will probably finish that today and cast on for the back. I'll do that in two pieces and close it with ribbon reinforcements and snaps, as I did for Faith's tunic.

There is a small but still reasonable chance that the sweater will be done and delivered in time for Middlest's birthday.

First sleeve is done.

Second sleeve is cast on. Fourth season of Psych is in the can. One hour to go before bedtime and I'm not in the mood to paint anything. We should probably alert the Guinness people.

Couldn't get an exact match on the brown paint, not that I was expecting it to be that easy, and I'm aware I could have them do a custom match. I played with the color picker on the website and came up with some other possibilities. I have the chip for one of them. I have the numbers for two more and will scope out the chips tomorrow or over the weekend.

I keep finding stuff (that I already have) that will go nicely in the dining room. I'll be doing something, happily in the flow, and an image will float up in my mind, and then I have to either write it down or go looking for it. I'm getting a thin but impressive collection of notes, and an ever growing assortment of flotsam and jetsam. (Autocorrect wanted to give me Jetson.)

Maybe I will put on my painting clothes and grab my shiny new box cutter and go all Anthony Hopkins on the dining room carpet. (I've never actually seen Psycho. My technique might be a little off.)

Yeah. I just watched the Hitchcock episode of Psych. I need to do *something* before going to bed.

And the next little step.

The management office in our building was repainted a couple of months ago. Their accent wall is a gorgeous chocolate brown. I stopped in after work and got the information, then picked up a paint chip on my way to Knit Night. When I got home, I compared it with the chips I brought home a day or so after I got the darker yellow paint. Not even close. Those all skewed red. (You are not surprised.) This is a somewhat greener brown, and it tones beautifully with what I've done so far. Next step is to take the Sherwin Williams chip to Home Depot and see how close I can get in the Behr colorways.

In knitting news, I am making steady progress on the first sleeve of the doll sweater. I'm nearly to the armscye, where I will bind off everything but a narrow strip for the saddle shoulder. This will not be my usual, preferred raglan shoulder. I am following the Starmore shaping.

I'm doing asbestos I can.

Had a moment there. Went into Home Depot last night and picked up a box cutter to tackle the carpet. Also wanted to get one of those thingies that separates old linoleum from the mother ship. Clerks asked when mine had been installed. No idea. The house was built in 1971, I think. So I texted Squishy, who replied that if it matches the linoleum in the kitchen, it was in 1994, just before they moved in. I need to find out when manufacturers stopped putting asbestos in the adhesive. But I think we're out of the woods.

In other news, I put the trim on the lampshades last night while watching Psych. I had planned to blindstitch it on, but the needle and the wire frame were not playing nicely together. So I picked out three inches of stitches and grabbed the adhesive rectangles I used on the Scrabble tiles. By cutting them in half, I was able to hide them under the trim and get a nice even application. I did not turn the raw ends under, but those puppies are going nowhere. If and when I want a change, I'll have to replace the entire lampshade.

I had hoped to have the carpet stacked neatly on the curb this morning, but I was too comfortable sitting on the bed with the DVD player in my lap.

Lest you think I am becoming a slacker, SemperFi took me to lunch yesterday to celebrate my 15 years with the company. (He felt badly because he missed the party last week.) We walked several blocks each way. I didn't break a sweat, I didn't get short of breath, and nothing hurt. I got a huge salad and ate half of it for lunch and the rest of it for dinner. This morning I put in 35 minutes on the treadmill at a 5% slope at a leisurely but steady 2.4 mph.

Fist bumps all around.

Still painting, after all these years.

The inside of the closet is done. I put a second coat on the trim this morning. Second day of waking an hour or so before the alarm. Am hoping for lots of lovely, unbroken sleep tonight. I'm about to put a third coat on the trim, with possibly a fourth coat tomorrow morning before work.

At work today we had a party for people like me: milestone anniversaries. One year, five years, ten years, fifteen years (me), and twenty years. Not only do I have that lovely, ridiculously expensive bag, but there were also festivities. Little bundt cupcakes from Nothing Bundt Cakes. And fruit trays, huzzah! And tiny sandwiches. It was a nice break from work.

I filed vacation letters all day. And fought sleep.

Did I mention that I officially lost Mellow last week? I told SemperFi not to get spoiled while we wait for me to get assigned half of somebody else's docket. It's wonderful to dash through my inbox and the day's mail, but once I'm done with the vacation letters I might be out of things to do until it's time to open a new case.

Stopped at Crate & Barrel after work. The chairs were pretty, but not as substantial as a true Windsor. And not quite the right shade of teal. Oh well. It was worth a look.

Heading out to the dining room. Starting now.

IKEA? Check. New paint? Check.

The IKEA bookcase was just the wrong shade of turquoise. Not enough to look intentional. Precisely enough to scream "what was she thinking?" But there are at least three furniture lines whose idea of white is a perfect match for the trim in the dining room. And there are candles in a cup that will look lovely on the dining room table when I'm done. I bought nothing, walked a lot, and came home happy.

Yesterday I emptied out the closet. There's enough space to hang my mom's mirror between two bookcases, with something narrow below that. Short bookcase. Cabinet. Plant stand. I took out the shelf and closet rod this morning. I need help getting the screws out of the wall so I may take down the brackets. The screw slots are painted over.

This will probably require a power screwdriver and some male upper body strength. Sounds like a job for my home teacher, or Wes. I would like to have the closet completely done by the end of the week. (People in Hades want ice water, too.) Finish-itis is kicking in, in a big way.

Meanwhile, I am going to make this month's birthday cards and a few more swatches. The 6-0 needle works beautifully for making cables.

More good news. Mostly.

My ovaries are healthy and fading into little nubbins, just as Heaven designed.

I will be getting a biopsy in a few weeks. My doctor and the anesthesiologist are covered 100%. The copay is more than I'd set aside for all of my medical expense reimbursements this year. I am so glad that I paid off my line of credit last year.

I have cancelled banjo camp for August and requested a refund of my deposit. I am also going to put the banjo lessons on hold for awhile, until my cash flow recovers.

If we are lucky, the biopsy will be followed by three months of progesterone and a humbled endometrium. I think this is the most likely scenario. If we are less lucky, my uterus will be making like Elvis and leaving the building.

I should know in a little less than a month and a half. I'm hoping that if I do need further surgery, it will be safe to schedule it after the Nauvoo trip.

In other news, I blocked the second swatch before breakfast yesterday. It is minuscule. I have cast on (and frogged) a third swatch with three different cable patterns and will be using a 6-0 needle to help with the cables.

I like the gynecologist. She is warm, witty, and I trust her.

I think I know what I want to do about the dining room closet. I got the idea on the drive into work this morning, to paint the interior a slightly darker value of yellow than the walls. And I will be making a dash to IKEA to see if the teal or turquoise bookshelf is a good match for the ceiling and the curtains. If it works, that would really pop! Two bookcases, something narrow between them, and my mother's mirror hung above that.

Good news.

Gynecologist office called. They had a cancellation. Would I like to come in 13 days sooner? I would.

Last night's massage was just for relaxation. No major owies. No energy work.

The first Aran swatch is blocking. I just took the second one off the needles.

I blew through all my to-do's at work. And wrangled all the mail. Only the fact that the e-filing system was intermittently wonky kept me from running out of stuff to do. But I was productively busy all day. And I have a good chunk of tomorrow laid out.

I found some ebony Rub N Buff at Hobby Lobby and am planning to refinish a picture frame. Pictures to follow if the end result remotely resembles what I have in my head.

May quilt block is done.

It's after midnight. I'm outta here.

Doorway is 99% done.

I need to touch up a couple of spots. I've begun to remove things from the closet so I may finish painting the trim and then repaint the inside.

I have the first bundle of baseboards. Went with the 3.5 inch ones instead of the 5.25 inch ones, because they were 12 feet long instead of 16. They fit easily into the back of the Tardis and are still a significant upgrade from what the builder used. (And they were far less expensive.  I got 120 feet for a little more than 32 feet would have cost me.) I've stacked them in the hallway, sticking out into the living room, and placed the rocking chair over that end so I won't trip over them and break either them, or me.

The black cashmere blend scarf is now grafted into an infinity cowl. I did that during one of the breakout sessions at the family history presentation at the stake center yesterday. I have the schematics drawn for the doll sweater that will be Middlest's birthday present next month. I'm about to wind the yarn and start swatching with Starmore. I think this will be fun. I love Aran knitting. And this is for a small doll, the size of my unicorn girl, Faith. So it will probably be done and mailed in time for Middlest's birthday.

Probably.

Great news on the diabetes front. My fasting glucose was down to 92 (should be less than 100 in a healthy individual), and my a1c was 6.2 (should be less than 6.5 for a healthy individual and 7.0 for a diabetic). I've officially lost 24 pounds already. So I am seven months ahead of my goal to lose 25 by the end of the year.

Yes, I am continuing to take my meds.
Yes, I am continuing to exercise.
Yes, I am continuing to improve my food choices.

I hope that after I see the gynecologist later this month, the news about my rogue uterus will be equally good.

This is the part where I go wind 880 yards of undyed lace weight yarn and consult La Starmore.

Window's done. Curtains are up.

After work I picked up some tiebacks. They need a little embellishment, and I have some ideas. I'm thinking small silk tiger lilies if I can find them in a soft orange. I'll be at Hobby Lobby tomorrow night to pick up the print and will see what's available.

The Duncan Phyfe game table is in the window. The two small lamps that I bought about ten years ago are on it. The shades need the merest hint of embellishment. And I need to rewire the wall socket, because only one of the plugs works. I found a painting that I bought not long after the divorce, that has the colors in the embroidery on the curtains. Not sure where it wants to go.

I'm not ready to decorate-decorate, not until the flooring is down and the new baseboards are in place, but I'm having fun thinking of what might look good in there and trying a few small things out.

I'm sorely tempted to dash out to the dining room and put one last coat of paint on that doorway, but I think I will just turn off the lights and lie down until the urge passes. I really don't want to be up until midnight.

Plan Q?

After Thursday, I wanted four days of relative peace and quiet. Instead I hung out with Firstborn and Secondborn and Lark and two of their friends after work on Friday. Knitted a little but mostly ate and laughed. They sent me home with the first two seasons of Psych.

Yesterday morning I puttered. Prepared a craft project for some gluing. Added a second coat of paint on some of the trim in the dining room. Read the lesson I'm subbing in RS today (the regular teacher had a death in the family).

In the afternoon I attended SemperFi's daughter's ballet recital then drove like a bat out of Houston to have dinner with the widows and widowers group. Was briefly tempted to resume painting but opted to read, instead. My salad last night was as big as my head! I could barely fit the leftovers into the to-go container. So we know what's on the menu today. And tomorrow. And possibly Tuesday.

I put a bright pink post-it on the bathroom mirror last night to remind myself to get dressed before heading out to the kitchen.  Curtains are still down in the dining room. I'm hoping that when I go back to work on Wednesday, the trim will be finished and I will have the new (old, dating back to the penultimate apartment) curtain rod up and the peacock curtains pressed and hanging. Next step after that would be the acquisition and painting of new, taller baseboards. At which point I think I would finally be ready to rip up the carpet and go to town with the vinyl planks.

But first I need to eat breakfast and work on the RS lesson. I am so enjoying the feeling of coming unstuck.

Having a wild case of the Mondays.

I think my uterus may have a case of metaphor-itis. After last night's massage, we did a little energy work. Determined that the mysterious inflammation that we haven't been able to pin down, is related to both my uterus and my diabetes. Period. (I crack myself up!)

I'm hoping that means that fixing whatever is wrong with my uterus and losing enough weight that I no longer need to take Metformin, will eradicate the inflammation, and I can just be middle aged crabby instead.

I wouldn't say I am exactly worried. More like trying to think of all the ways this could play out and figuring out what to do in each scenario. I wish I didn't have to wait a month to find out. I have vacation and banjo camp ahead of me, and I'm hoping that when I do have a diagnosis it won't mess with either.

I'm going to the temple tonight. Maybe that will slow my brain down to Heaven Standard Time.

Some news.

The sonogram shows a thickened endometrium. I spent an hour and a half on the phone today, talking with multiple offices. But I now have an appointment in four weeks with Sarah's GYN. And I have a good feeling about this doctor and about her staff. There may be a biopsy in my future. And probably another incident of spotting between now and then.

So it was not a particularly productive day at work, and tomorrow morning is the monthly staff meeting, but I did at least get a new case opened for SemperFi. Plus official word that I will be losing half of Mellow's docket to one of the new secretaries. Serious bummer, that.

On the way home from Knit Night, I stopped to tank Lorelai. And witnessed a guy back into another car. And gave the second driver a note with my contact information. Just got off the phone with him. First driver wouldn't give his insurance information until the cop showed up and made him. Second driver told me that the other guy said he rear-ended him.

Liar liar bumper on fire. And I will be happy to give a recorded statement to that effect.

Taking my still slightly crabby self off to bed now.

Still waiting.

I should hear back on the ultrasound in the next couple of days. In the meantime I've paid bills and taken my new print to be framed. I've also ordered a bag of Scrabble tiles to finish a craft project. I had the option of spending 50 cents to a dollar per tile to get just the ones that I needed, or spending a few dollars more for a complete set. They've already shipped. I love eBay. I did have to reset my password, because it had been so long since I'd bought anything.

I am nearly half done with the black cashmere cowl from my birthday yarn. My rings are cleaned and inspected. I had planned to spend most of the day at home, making music and puttering, but I opted to spend a swathe of it at Firstborn's. Helped her wash windows, which is about the only housework task that I deeply and genuinely enjoy.

They have French doors leading to the deck, and new curtains that are going up. Lark has been living on campus for two years. Willow and her two cats have been living with Firstborn and 1BDH. On Friday the girls moved into their own place, taking critters and the old living room furniture.

Firstborn has been deep cleaning, as Secondborn is moderately allergic to Willow's cats, and BittyBubba is deathly allergic (and shows signs of developing Fourthborn's mordant wit; he remarked drily at last weekend's party for LittleBit that they were going to see if Mom survived, and if she did they would see if it's now OK for him to visit; he's six).

So the kids have a new sofa and love seat. This new one is so much easier to get up from! And a cleverly designed coffee table that converts into something of a desk, with a top that rises and oodles of storage space underneath. I might have to check into that. And new curtains, as the cats had had their way with the old ones. Hence the need to give the windows some loving care.

On the home front, I bought a can of replacement paint for the one that got rusty. So there is an increasing chance of my finishing the dining room within my lifetime. LittleBit cannot drive until she has been seizure free for six months. And I am unwilling to make two round trips to fetch her and take her home so that she may work off a small debt that she owes me.

Looks like it's back to me. I want to have that done so I may rip up the carpet in there and put down the vinyl plank flooring and move in the furniture and start using that room for its intended purpose. And then I can move on to the living room.

Right now I just want to curl up and take a nap. I can see in my mind's eye the finished dining room, with the new curtains up, the table set for company, and pictures on the walls. The reality of what is left to do to get there? Intermittently daunting.

Baby steps. And it's time to start moving forward again in that aspect of my life. Even though I would rather read or make music or knit. I have the right to live in a home that serves my purpose and my talents. I miss hosting small dinner parties.

Speaking of which, I met my friend Sooz, who lives in Hawaii but is visiting stateside, for dinner last night. We talked for four and a half hours. There is something deeply satisfying about listening to an author read from her own work. And comparing notes on dating misadventures until we met our respective husbands.

I have a four day weekend, next weekend. Maybe I will get some stuff done around here.

You know that toddler?

The one who drops her towel as soon as you lift her out of the bathtub and heads straight for the great outdoors? That was my left ovary this afternoon.

Ultrasound has changed since I was birthing babies. Significantly so. What I remember is a mouse(ish) object, body surfing across my belly on a tidal wave of KY jelly.

Not today. There was a wand with a camera, and it was following the Star Trek injunction to boldly go where no man has gone (in something over a year). My rebellious ovary was taking evasive action and generally managing to stay out of camera range. Presumably my right ovary was sitting primly in its chair, knees together, socks pulled up, reading Jane Austen and munching on an apple.

I don't know how long I was there, staring up at the holes in the acoustic tile and wishing for a poster of Sean Connery. Possibly as little as fifteen minutes, but it felt like the song that does not end. It didn't exactly hurt, but I've had more fun getting my teeth cleaned.

While I was getting dressed, I looked at the images on the monitor. They might as well have been written in reformed Egyptian. Little grainy truncated cones. Random dots of blue on a handful of them.

I'm dreaming of a blue cervix, just like the ones I used to know. (The cervix of a woman who is pregnant for the first time, turns blue because of all the new blood vessels.)

After I left the facility, I was tired and felt a little violated. So I called a friend to see if I could get a drive-by hugging. I could. And I did. And I feel much better. Dinner helped, too. Leftovers from Empty Nesters. And a single square of Ghirardelli, whereas if I could still eat anything I liked, dinner would have been a pint of Ben and Jerry.

I should have the results in a few days. In the meantime, I'm going to knit and make music.

Ultrasound tomorrow.

I'll let you know if they find any feral dust bunnies.

Doctor said that whatever this is, it's almost certainly not due to the Metformin.

Stellar evening at Knit Night. Too tired to practice either instrument, but I sang myself home.

Very happy. Peaceful. Good night!

Looooong day(s).

Woke up at 6:00 yesterday and headed straight to the gym. Then home to sluice off and change. Drove to Fort Worth, parked at the college, took the shuttle to the convention center, and left there five hours later. Drove straight to Lucile's for lobster bisque and a side Caesar. Put some gas in Lorelai and drove to Arlington. Hung out at Barnes and Noble until time to pick up Fourthborn for the tribal feast. Ate and visited, visited and ate. Took Fourthborn home. Got home around 10:00 after picking up water and guacamole. Too tired to practice my music. Went to bed and slept for nine hours. Got up this morning and played Olive for 45 minutes. Read the scheduled RS lesson (entirely forgetting about the visiting teaching conference). Sang "The Water is Wide". A lot. Played too long on FB. Was just barely on time to church. This year's Mother's Day talks were not painful. And the young men handed out (big) Ghirardelli bars afterwards. Sarah hadn't seen me, so she snagged one for me. If I am ridiculously self-disciplined, I now have enough for the better part of three weeks. A week and a half or two weeks is more likely. HT/VT couple came over. I've put in some time with the banjo. And am now trying to stay awake until the time I normally take my Metformin and go to bed.

Good news, no news.

I am officially down 20 pounds. My doctor and I are both ecstatic. My BP was 120/73. Normal for most people and still a little high for me. But moving in the right direction.

We are scheduling a sonogram to see if my uterus has been invaded by aliens or polyps or feral dust bunnies.

This could be any one of a bajillion things,  most of which are perfectly benign. Pretty sure it's not cancer, from the energy work after Wednesday's massage.

Came home and had a salad. Am now noshing on hummus and a (very) few Ritz crackers. And then I'm going to take a catnap. My friend Trish is coming over tonight, and we are going to sing.

Tomorrow? Gym at dark-thirty. And LittleBit gets her associates degree. Twenty years younger than her mother did.

Woohoos all around!

Seeing the doc on Friday.

Spoke with a female diabetic friend, who told me to call my doctor, ASAP. So I did. Two minutes after their phone lines closed for the day. When I finally got through this morning, the nurse had lots of questions for me. Am I exhausted? Tired, yes, but not exhausted. Any other weird symptoms? Nothing that comes to mind. Write down what I remember and bring it with me. All printed out.

She apologized that there's no room at the inn until Friday. Since she didn't tell me to hie myself to the ER, I feel confident that this is annoying but not life threatening. *Deeply* annoying. Hope it doesn't happen again next month annoying. Telemarketer calling when you're making dinner annoying.

I can't take Benadryl because it accelerated my menses (when I had them).

I sense a theme here.

If you find them, I don't want them back.

Six pounds. Gone since Friday. No idea how that happened. May have something to do with the weeping yesterday, which was partially due to Fast and Testimony meeting and perhaps rather more to do with what I suspect is a side effect of the Metformin. I have had four micro-mini periods since the end of February. And they're getting less micro. I consulted the Google and Thummim after church. For fertile women, Metformin can cause menorrhagia (heavy or constant periods). I had been Red Fairy free for five or six years. Definitely taking this up with my doctor when I see her later this month. I'm not consuming soybeans (that I'm aware of), so it's not a case of plant estrogens getting meddlesome.

I really don't want two days of weeping and one day of aching, every month for the next 40 years. Thankfully, the cramps have not resumed, nor are the girls tender. Just that pervasive heavy ache in my lower abdomen, which has mercifully passed.

I hope there is a simple fix for this. Yes, it's lovely to have lost 20 pounds and be barreling toward 25. But I'd rather lose it more slowly and feel good and be happy.

Time to wash my fork and get back to work.

A good Saturday.

I obediently and gratefully went to the stake RS meeting yesterday morning. The theme was "running a spiritual 5K". There were five classes and enough time to pick three. Interesting experience in one of them. No revelations. No tender tears.

The speaker was sincere. The topic was clearly and thoughtfully presented. And I felt ... nothing. *Obviously* not her fault. I wondered afterwards if I was supposed to be in that class to support her and not to learn or confirm anything for myself.

If so, I hope she got what she needed. I certainly don't regret being there. Skipped the luncheon to drive to Carrollton to pick up the next quilt block, hug Firstborn and Fourthborn, and come back home for a nap which was not too long and not too short. Just right!

I am up to 40 minutes on Olive at each practice and ready to tack on another five. By the end of the month I hope to be practicing her for an hour a day and to have gotten into the second volume of lessons. I am working on C# now. It is nowhere near as difficult as high E was.

I may need to flip the order in which I practice, because I am barely managing half an hour on the banjo and am not progressing as quickly as I would like. Although I am progressing. Maybe if I alternate days as I did when trying to decide between Olive and the rosewood recorder? And maybe I need more weight training for my arms. My biceps are still my weakest muscles. My triceps are probably next in line.

I am about a third of the way into HP7. So glad that I decided to reread the series. I am also working through five back issues of Real Simple that a friend from work gave me. I used to be a subscriber. The recipes are frequently amazing. I learn something in every issue. And I cannot help being amused at a magazine that promotes a simpler lifestyle and is propelled by advertising. I wonder how its ratio of editorial content to advertising compares to, say, Vogue?

I am so thankful that I do not need a $500 feather trimmed skirt to wear to the holiday parties I do not attend. A $500 skirt would buy three Chutzpahs. Or 2+ of my car-payment totes, at retail. (I am quite sure that the corporation gets them at a significant discount.)

Speaking of which, I rather like the tether extending from an inside seam. I keep my key ring attached to that, and there's room to add the Tardis' key when I am driving that. Somebody's mommy came up with that idea.

Firstborn broached a concept yesterday after giving her fashionista seal of approval for the tote. I should get a smaller purse, and carry both? I am trying to wrap my mind around that. If I am lugging the necessities in my bag, and I have a separate, highly decorative insulated lunch bag, wouldn't a smaller, more conventional purse be overkill? What would I put in it?

I will admit that that ridiculously expensive caramel leather bag I saw in the ad last year or the year before, is still hanging out in the back of my mind. I'm not exactly proud of the fact.

Oh, and Firstborn also instructed me to register my bag, so that if it ever needs repair I can ship it off and have it fixed or replaced. I kept the paperwork when I opened the box last week. Now I guess I know why.

I'm going to knit a little, in the hope of rebalancing myself. Oye to the veh.

Comma chameleon. And bag ladies.

I love puns. (You may have noticed.) The goofier the better. There was a meme on FB day before yesterday: five bright green punctuation marks followed by a lizard. Flashback to the 80's. I got an earworm. Tan apparently got a headache, for which I am sorry, and I hope that this reference doesn't fire up another one.

In other silliness, two of my work friends who are far more chic than I, noticed my bag at lunch yesterday. They both laughed at my "that's not a bag, that's a car payment" response. It probably doesn't qualify as the world's most expensive knitting bag. The problem (for me) in carrying a designer bag is that for forty years I have read about the Nephites and their intermittent love of fine clothing.

I do love pretty clothing. Always have. Used to make all my own, with designer touches, until it made sense to buy it because I no longer had the time to do it properly, and my shape had changed so much that the patterns required significant alterations. There is very little outstanding clothing made for women my size.

Where was I?

The older I get, the simpler my needs are becoming. I have enough stuff (mostly). I need a small amount of stuff to lug around the stuff I use on a daily basis. I need stuff to cover my nakedness. I need stuff to feed mind, body, and spirit.

The paycheck/bonus is nearly all spent. I paid bills. I went to dinner. I ordered two prints, one for the dining room and one for Firstborn's birthday. I paid for the trainfare portion of my upcoming vacation. There were way more wants than there were needs. I'm fine with that. I know the difference. I have enough left for food and gas and the next massage.

I think it's funny and sad that we compare ourselves to one another. Especially for something as silly as a few square feet of dead animal skin. Providence and a modicum of self discipline have improved my finances to the point that I probably don't need to worry about becoming a bag lady. I hope I never confuse my value as a child of God with my value by worldly measure.

I hope I never become a Bag lady.

That's not a bag!

(This may be a duplicate of an earlier post from where you're sitting. My mobile Blogger function changed format, and I published this from work a couple of days ago. But I just figured out how to publish the Comma Chameleon post from my phone.)

That's a car payment! Behold my anniversary gift from the corporation. It would appear that I have gone over to the dark side (into the world of designer bags). I could have gone with the Tiffany earrings, but I am more about semiprecious stones and wearable art.

I needed a new tote bag. I have been pondering that for several months while carrying one that closes with velcro and snags my knitting, my scarves, and my patience. There were two bags in the catalogue: this one and a black Coach handbag that was nowhere near large enough to haul around my life. So I sighed and rolled my eyes and chose this one.

I will concede that it is attractive. And appears to be sturdy. But I shall have to winnow out some of the things I carry. Because I doubt that those runway model straps can wrangle a 10-15-20 pound bag for the next five to ten years. Not when I wore out my Franklin Covey (Kenneth Cole) bag in something like five. And it was built like a Sherman tank.

But with thoughtful editing of its contents, this might last until my 20th anniversary with the corporation, and then they can give me another, or something like.

I wish I had thought to include the lunch bag I was given for my birthday. Black and white and sassy all over.

Knitting progresses. I am halfway through the current miniature sock. This is either eight or nine in the series. Finish-itis is starting to kick in. I skipped Knit Night in favor of a quiet evening at home. There will be another one of those tonight.

I also finished HP6 last night and started HP7. Dumbledore's death hit me a lot harder this time, even though I knew it was coming. On the other hand, I realized how much Ginny Weasley there is in me. That is not a bad thing.

I spent 40 blissful minutes with Olive. Make that 37 blissful and 3 spent learning to play C#. I think that may be easier to learn than the high E that nearly drove me mad. And then I fired up the banjo (still unnamed) and realized it had gone out of tune overnight, and I was just that much too tired to fiddle with it. So I put it away. I will try again tonight.

Maybe I like piano and recorder and harmonica and voice so much because the tuning is simple, infrequent, or unnecessary? Maybe that's why I liked zill work as much as I did belly dancing lessons? Maybe that's behind the vague desire to learn to drum?

Maybe I just want to be a lazy musician? Something to chew on while curating the contents of my ridiculously expensive knitting bag.

Cheekbones. I see cheekbones.

Like the killer legs of my intermittently misspent youth, they are still in there somewhere. I caught a glimpse when I was washing my face last night. When I lose weight, I seem to start at the edges and work my way in. Maybe it's that way for everybody.

My rings are looser. Not enough to get them sized down as yet. But enough that they are starting to slip around, which will become increasingly annoying. I like my rings and watches to stay put. Most days, my shoes are looser as well. I rarely have to deal with seriously swollen feet or ankles anymore. Only if I get too much salt or too little sleep. Or both.

I have had to fold up my favorite pair of black slacks and put them in the give-away bag. They are gently broken-in, far too good to cut up and share for doll clothes. Somebody else should get to enjoy them until they have outworn their usefulness.

I've bought a raft of dressy T-shirts over the past couple of years. At the current rate they should be good for another two to four months. And then most of them will get donated, and I will have to buy smaller ones, but probably only half as many. I like to look nice, and I like to have colorful options, but I don't like to waste money.

The attorneys threw a little party for us yesterday. Texas size petits fours (square, and midway in size between a regular cupcake and a Costco muffin) and punch. I skipped the punch entirely. I tried to share my petit four with one of my skinny friends, but none of them wanted the other half.

I remembered how awful I felt after the cupcake and individual ice cream cup at the March birthday party, and I did not want a repeat. So I ate half of my petit four at the party and the rest at my desk throughout the afternoon. Came home and ate a huge salad and three small dolmas for dinner. By the time I finished music practice, my feet were moderately swollen but not painful, and they're in pretty good shape this morning.

I've been up for an hour, had a light breakfast, and now need to go to the gym. I've missed every other day this week. I have stuff to do, and it's easier to do when I've started the day with exercise. Examples: getting into and out of Lorelai and the Tardis. Sitting down and getting back up again (except for Firstborn's couch; that still requires an act of Congress). Lugging groceries. Standing to cook. Washing dishes or loading and unloading the dishwasher. Packing my lunch on weekdays. Driving for more than an hour.

Today's agenda: work out; balance checkbooks; doll meet with Fourthborn and Mel (there's a doll con in Grapevine today, but Fourthborn and I are just meeting people for lunch at a nearby park); prepare RS lesson for tomorrow. I'm subbing. Sounds like a recipe for a most excellent day.

Unable to detect user.

Oh really? While it's true that I've lost a few pounds, I'm pretty sure it's not enough to make me invisible. Or weightless. My favorite treadmill, the one where I can't see any of the three screens that play music videos, informed me rather tartly that I wasn't there: press OK to continue.

Shouldn't the fact that I pressed OK on the average of once a minute until I gave up and put my hands on the sensors that pick up my pulse, have been sufficient evidence to convince said treadmill that I was, in fact, present and working out?

I let them know at the front desk. That was Tuesday morning. Either the treadmill got over its little snit, or somebody fixed it before I got there this morning. Or maybe I just got visible again.

It's been quite the day. LittleBit texted me midmorning to say she was back in the ER with more seizures. Her boyfriend was with her. She is home, medicated, and sleeping it off. He gave me a Readers Digest version. I'll check with her over the weekend.

I was wrangling three attorneys instead of my usual one and a half, and not readily able to get away. Firstborn offered to leave work, but it wasn't necessary. I turned it all over to them and to a handful of friends who pray and just stayed in work mode until I left the office.

It is a measure of how frazzled I felt when I got the news that I put her boyfriend's phone number into my contacts and suddenly couldn't remember his last name. I've known him for three years. And I *like* him. So it wasn't a subconscious thing.

By the time I got home I was able to pray a little and cry a little. I wish Beloved could slip his leash for a couple of hours. I would like a brief howl while wrapped in his arms.

Pretty sure I will be OK in the morning. I'm going to tootle on Olive for awhile and play the banjo a bit and then curl up with HP5. And try to be in bed before 10.

Wish me luck.

Birthday weekend.

BittyBit's choir concert was delightful. Secondborn says that she likes to sing. I could tell that she doesn't like to be onstage. Those kids rocked "Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho"! And I loved the drumming in the first part of the program.

My eye exam went well. Prescription has been essentially unchanged for the past five years. I'm holding off on a new pair of glasses until I'm about halfway to my target weight, so I won't have to wrangle glasses that have become too wide for my face. The vision plan pays for a new pair of frames every other year. These glasses are two years old but holding up well. So maybe later this year.

I had a banjo lesson Thursday night. It went well. I got a little assertive. I hadn't practiced much all month, because the new song required learning two new techniques. (And that just felt like more than I could manage, when I took so long to figure out the high E on Olive. And was behind on my quilt blocks. And hadn't picked up a pencil in a month and a half because the next learning exercise intimidates me.) So I took a list of songs I want to be able to play, and I came home with simplified arrangements for "Amazing Grace" and "Simple Gifts". Practicing last night was pure, unadulterated joy. I played until my left bicep ached.

Recorder practice has also been going well. I'm up to 35 minutes at a whack, with the ultimate goal of playing for an hour or more.

I met my friend MA for lunch on Thursday. She wanted to pick my brain about something. And I was sufficiently relaxed that there were brains for the picking. I did some window shopping after that, chiefly for the exercise, until it was time to meet Brother Sushi for dinner.

I've done a little shopping while I've been off. Chiefly groceries, but also an uplight for the living room. A few knitting accessories. More boxes for my CD's. Some magazines. Envelopes for visiting teaching.

I have been a little nervous about the idea of retirement. What would I do to stay busy and involved? The past three days have been delicious. I still awoke at approximately the usual time. Still went to the gym. Had plenty of time for music practice. Got to visit or serve friends. Adequate time to read for pleasure. Not one drop of boredom. And only one nap, because I was getting seven hours of sleep a night.

I spent two or three hours yesterday on YouTube, listening to several arrangements of a song that's been on my mind. Singing along. I'm still finding my voice in this place. More often than I would like, it still feels like Pati's house. I didn't sing much when Beloved was still alive. Sometimes it would burst out when I was in the shower. But I was a little shy of singing around him, because I know that she had a glorious voice.

It is the one aspect of my relationship with him in which I felt insecure. The children's father, for all his faults or weaknesses, loved my voice and loved to sing with me. It was one of the places where we truly fit together. Beloved did not sing. Would not sing. Because too many people told him he should not. Which makes me want to hunt those people up and bite them.

So, now I sing. Some days it is quiet and tentative. Some days my heart is so full that I croak. Some days it just pours out of me. I hope Beloved is singing in Heaven. I hope that his voice is so joyful and true that it shames the people who shamed him.

It's been a good birthday. A sacred space for love and learning. I want a lot more of these before I go Home.

Blue moon (not!)

Yes, I set the alarm. Twice. I went to bed at 9:30 and got up at midnight. Normal silvery moon. Reset the alarm for 2:00 and awoke to a lovely, mostly red moon. I don't know if I was a little early or a little late to see it fully red. I wasn't interested in staying up long enough to find out. I mumbled, "ooh, that's so pretty" and went right back to bed.

Got the word on my raise and bonus yesterday. No increase in base salary. Nice, medium range bonus. Given the disaster that parts of my work life were last year, I am thankful to still have a job, health insurance, and a monthly retirement check to look forward to.

I was productively busy all day yesterday. I am hoping for light mail today so I may work ahead on my to-do's. I'm taking Thursday and Friday off for staycation to celebrate my birthday. BittyBit has a choir concert. I have an eye appointment. I'm meeting one friend for lunch and another for dinner. You know, your normal jet setting grandma whirl of activities.

Time to fold the laundry and fix breakfast. Some days it feels as if all I do is cook. I miss the days when I could eat anything I liked. But that's what got me to where I am today. And I definitely enjoy feeling healthier. I want to be around to see the Bitties grow up. And I want to master the recorder and the banjo.

But at the moment I just want to go back to bed for another hour.

Sunday morning coming down.

Lovely, gentle, and much needed rain is falling outside. I am balancing a plate on my lap, sitting here in bed. Toaster waffle, sliced unsweetened strawberries, and a dollop of Greek yogurt.

Woke up yesterday at the usual time, but after seven hours of sleep. Noodled around on FB for an hour. Ate breakfast while reading HP5. Went to the gym for a quick workout. Twenty minutes at 2.5mph on a 5% (!!!) slope.

From there, straight to the chapel to help clean up. It is a measure of how far I have come in two months of medicine and exercise, that I did not need a nap afterwards. I tanked Lorelai and dropped off a scarf at the dry cleaners.

I wasn't tired, but I was ravenous, so I fixed a ham and cheese omelette and chased it with one of these waffles and more reading. Then I ran the dishwasher.

Eventually it was time to start assembling the drive-by fooding. While the cornbread baked, I practiced my recorder. I had a small breakthrough.

I've been working on this lesson (the high E that had eluded me so long) for weeks and weeks. Some of the melodies have been easy. For others, I could read the music, count the rhythm, vocalize the melody, and still not get my fingers to cooperate on runs of eighth notes. Yesterday the tricky bits started to come together. And I got most of the way through on a couple of new pieces.

After I put Olive away, I browned the hamburger, started a load of laundry, sliced the salad stuff, and made a huge pot of soup. Sluiced off. Packed two large containers of soup into one paper shopping bag and two gallon bags of salad fixings, the cooled cornbread, and a caramel popcorn kit into another, and hit the road.

Dropped off the food at the elders' apartment, and on my way to the turnpike had the impulse to call a friend and see if I could persuade her to run away to the Main Street Arts Festival with me. It took some talking, but I did. We drove an hour to get there and the better part of another hour trying to find parking. Gave it up and went to Lucile's for lobster bisque and fried green tomatoes and salads and a shared slice of key lime pie for dessert. And then we came home. I read for an hour and rolled into bed at midnight.

I woke up seven hours later, wanting to play the recorder. But I needed to hydrate and refuel first. So now I will eat the last few bites of breakfast, plug my phone into the charger, and see if I can coax more music out of Olive.

Good Sabbath, y'all!

Long week of short days?

At any rate, it's over. Last night I made the February quilt block. This morning, after sleeping in until the decadent hour of 7:30, I made most of the March block before sluicing off and hightailing it to Firstborn's. We picked up Fourthborn between Conference sessions and got our April blocks. Dropped her off, watched the afternoon session, and then played a board game that I actually liked. And not just because I won one of the rounds.

Carcassonne. I would play it again. I might even buy it. Firstborn made us yummy salads for lunch. I bought groceries on the way home. Am about ready for a light snack and some music practice.

I have ordered myself some early birthday presents: an early music CD (Praetorius), a cello CD, and Harry Potter 5.

Looking forward to tomorrow's Conference sessions.

Because financial fitness is important, too.

Blew off the gym in favor of balancing the checkbook this morning. Did two loads of laundry last night. Made a last minute dash to World Market for some free trade 72% chocolate, ate one square and portioned out the rest for future enjoyment.

The rebalancing in terms of tomatoes seems to have worked. It was so yummy to have some with my salad yesterday. And my ankles are quiet. Pie5 might be an option for dinner before Knit Night.

I am continuing to plow through the fourth Harry Potter. The movies were good. The books are better.

I wound the second ball of Shibui Knits in order to finish binding off. Which didn't happen. No clue what to make from what will be left. Maybe another cowl for my sister? It would be really cool to get a jump start on her birthday present this year.

All this cooking from scratch is wearing me out. I suppose I will eventually get faster at it. I certainly hope so. It's worth the trouble. I like how I feel in my skin, most days. But it still goes against my philosophy that if it takes longer to fix it than to eat it, something's wrong.

Objets trouvees.

(Sorry. Can't insert the proper accents from my phone.) Yesterday I retrieved a few of my marbles, by attacking the paper glacier that has been stealthily growing in the doorway to my closet.

I found two umbrellas, now hanging in the hall closet. An earring that had escaped my grasp while being dropped into its pocket on the accessories organizer which hangs from one of the bifold doors to my closet. My Relief Society manual, missing for the past three weeks.

Half a dozen plastic shopping bags that had slithered down into the mix and will be joining their cousins in the pantry on my next foray into the kitchen. The paperwork supporting my 2013 tax return. The programs from Carmen and last week's hockey game.

Several books I had begun reading but lost interest in. A sheaf of old church manuals belonging to Beloved or his late wife. The sheet music for "The Green Days of Summer," a beautiful song from my childhood that was featured in The Alamo and was one of Beloved's favorite songs.

I told him, "Honey, I found that sheet music you had wondered about." I am taking it with me to my banjo lesson, to see if my teacher has it transcribed. And if not I will ask him to do so. I would like to learn to play it for Beloved.

My room looks a lot better now. Not perfect, but far more navigable. And my head feels clearer. I am going to reward myself by creating two or three scrapbook pages. Beloved gave me a beautiful red scrapbook for Christmas, right before we married. I've done nothing with it, except to keep it safe for two years, and to step around the bag which holds it when I go into my studio. So much of the past few years does not lend itself to being captured in 12" square segments and put into a book.

In knitting news, I began binding off the enormously long infinity scarf while at the General Women's Conference last night. I will make more progress while at church later today.

I finished reading the third Harry Potter about half an hour ago. The fourth is out on an ottoman in the living room, waiting patiently for its turn.

I'm really glad that church and obedience and the like are still important to me. The video that was part of last night's broadcast quietly undid me. One of the young(ish) moms was sitting next to me and put her arm around my shoulder. I whispered, "Sometimes it just comes up out of nowhere." She nodded. I whispered again, "And the music never helps." She nodded again. I don't know what griefs she has borne, but her face is too wise for there not to have been any. I'm just grateful that she was so kind. She's not one of my close friends, but last night she was God's hands to me.

Significantly less crabby today.

Two good nights' sleep. Two good workouts. I made myself walk the full mile today, on a 2% slope, after doing my weight training. I have hit the grocery store for one glorious Roma tomato. Sarah repeated the rebalancing on Wednesday night, since I couldn't have a massage because of the antibiotics.

And this time I was successful in avoiding all tomatoes and tomato products until I'd completed the 26 hour cycle. I am about to put away the rest of the groceries and make a ham and cheese omelette with a slice or two of tomato on the side. If (as I expect) there are no hives, I will gleefully resume eating tomatoes. I have missed them dreadfully.

I picked up some single-serving microwave popcorn to eat in the car on the drive home, for those days when my blood sugar and energy are flagging. If i yawn six times in ten minutes it means I need to send down reinforcements.

Bought a small bunch of daffodils to add to the alstromeria in the vase in the living room. I love fresh flowers. Alstromeria last for a week or longer, so it's an inexpensive way to get my beauty fix. I love tulips, but they poop out so quickly. (Maybe they are diabetic but uncontrolled?)

I hereby declare this a day of pampering, rest, and spiritual growth. Later, gators!

Cupcake + ice cream = cankles

We had the quarterly birthday party at work today. I have not eaten ice cream in over a month. So I had one of those single serve cups of Blue Bell Dutch Chocolate. And a small cupcake. By the end of the day my legs were swollen and stiff halfway up my calves. And as red as if I were wearing 5" high legwarmers just above my ankles.

Three months from now I will try just the ice cream and see what, if any, reaction I get. I don't like cake enough to choose it over the ice cream.

Lesson learned: the healthy stuff I have been eating for the past month is what I need to continue to eat. I had a far more successful experiment at dinnertime. Stirred a scoop of vanilla protein powder into a cup of fat free Fage yogurt, sweetening it just enough and nearly tripling the protein grams. Then I sliced up several strawberries and stirred them in. Protein, a modicum of good carbs, vitamins, fiber, pleasant mouthfeel, and the satisfaction of having been right about a hunch. I think this is going to become one of my go-to breakfasts.

This has been a good week at work and an increasingly frustrating week at home. I had a painful symptom last week and have nearly finished a course of antibiotics. I have been going to the gym out of sheer bulldog stubbornness. On more than one day I have run out of safe snacks before I ran out of workday or commute home. The piles are getting out of hand again. I am too tired at night to make music. I haven't picked up a pencil in two weeks or more. I am a musician who doesn't music, an artist who doesn't art, a knitter who doesn't knit, and a reader who until last week hadn't read for pleasure in months.

I picked up the Harlot's new book before Knit Night. I am nearly done. I may read the last four (?) essays before bedtime. Or not. It is not quite 9:00. I have two meds to take, and my body is screaming for sleep. I blew off the gym this morning for another hour of sleep. I rescheduled tonight's banjo lesson because it would be a waste of his time and my money. I have had to postpone my massage twice. I burst into tears listening to the march of the day yesterday: Scotland the Brave. And I had some spotting today. As I did last month. The Red Fairy left the building five or six years ago. I don't know what the h-e-double-hockey-sticks is going on, but somebody needs to tell my hormones to straighten up and fly right.

Don't be surprised if I keep the ringer off all weekend and only show up for the Women's Broadcast on Saturday night and church on Sunday.

Mumble mumble rassen frassen.

Update.

I had a far more clever title, but I've slept since then. Intermittently well.  I'm learning how to eat. Yesterday I came out just about right in terms of calories, sodium, carbs, and protein. My ankles were happy. My feet were only the teensiest bit swollen at bedtime. I tried on the red boots. Both feet went in! There was still significant pressure on the tops of my feet, and the boots came right back off, but it was the first time I was able to get my left foot all the way in. So maybe this fall I will be wearing those boots to church. And maybe a year from now I will be wearing them to work.

Today has been less successful in terms of food. I know I haven't eaten anywhere near enough calories. Or protein. On the other hand, I haven't tried to fill up on junk food. So I'm still moving in the right direction. My doctor is very pleased with me. I'm doing more actual cooking. But it takes time away from my music and art.

I have so many things I want to say. And I have got to go to bed. Probably the most important thing that happened today was a good long talk with Middlest after work.

Remind me to share the most important thing I learned at the hockey game on Saturday. Hint: it had nothing to do with hockey.

12.5

Almost 13. I was really surprised when I got on the scale. I noticed today that my shoes are getting loose. I may be back in my old size in a few months. I might even be able to wear the red ankle boots I bought, then couldn't zip up behind my heels.

I slept poorly last night. Went to bed at 11, woke about half past 2. Up for a couple of hours. At least I got my laundry caught up. And about an hour and a half nap after that. Which meant no gym this morning. I just got back from there after dinner. Did some weights, walked on the treadmill for five minutes, said "I'm done".

FHE tonight = two out of three. Family of one, definitely not home, but most definitely evening.

I got two birthday cards mailed off today. And my letters to the sisters on my VT route. And my music practice. I worked really hard today. SemperFi is on vacation the rest of this week. I still love being his secretary. And I'm ready to miss him for a few days.

On balance, a good day and a good start to the rest of the week. I'm going to read a little Harry Potter and call it a day.

That's the second time.

I forgot to take my medicine last night. I was so tired after a long week at work, and my music practice, that I forgot to take it. I didn't realize until I woke up this morning, and it was a little too late.

So I have made a sticky note and put it on my sheet music to remind me to put the bottle on my bed before I start to play. When the sticky wears off, I'll make a new reminder. I have also updated my spreadsheet with numbers on each little square to know how many doses I've taken, without having to count each square. That will be truly helpful when I've been taking it for several months.

I have a writing route for visiting teaching. I spent some time this morning creating mailing labels for the envelopes. One of my sisters has a birthday next week. I've already made her card. Another had a birthday earlier this week, but I didn't have my list then. I've got them added to my Christmas card list and the one for Valentines Day. Heading out in a few minutes to buy green envelopes.

This afternoon I meet with my inquisitor at the health club. Time to work out a weight training plan.

Banjo practice went well last night. Today, as much as possible, is going to be about art and music.

Banjo lesson tonight.

This week has been a blur. Am finally getting a little caught up at work. The house is a zoo. I've done one load of laundry this week and run the dishwater.

Gradually increasing my time at the gym. Have added fish oil, a gummi multivitamin, and protein powder to my day. Trainer says I haven't been getting enough protein, but this should all help with the free floating inflammation. We did the body fat analysis on Monday night. I'm about 40% water, 50% fat, and 10% bone and lean muscle.

This will change. About half of that water is hanging around outside my cells. I would like to persuade it to go hang out *in* my cells, or just to make like Elvis and leave the building. And maybe take some of the fat with it.

Saturday afternoon I meet with another trainer to work out a weight program.

Baby steps. With a side order of dumbells. Good thing thing I have a banjo lesson tonight.

Max enjoyment.

Yesterday was quite a day. My fridge and pantry are restocked. I've written checks for all the bills. I caught a wee scrap of a nap before my friend's birthday party. And found a new home for one of our three ice cream scoops. (She was ma'amfully digging the ice cream out with a serving spoon.)

I made no music yesterday. No art, either. Didn't pick up my knitting except to move it. But my spirit feasted, regardless. I had a wonderful time at the art exhibition last night. I have tried, really tried, to love impressionism. But my mind and heart are pulled toward realism. The Dutch masters. The Hudson River school. Eakins' portraits. Greg Olsen. Simon Dewey. Liz Lemon Swindle. Paul Mann. C.C.A. Christensen. As opposed to Monet, most of Van Gogh, and Minerva Teichert.

And surrealism. Dali. "Starry Night". M.C. Escher. Mickey Mouse. Melted clocks. Singing crickets. Peter Max.

The impressionists are gifted. I appreciate what they were trying to do, and I am grateful for the beauty they shared. But it's not mathy enough to satisfy me. And not vivid enough. I spent so many years trying to be a pastel person, and I'm just not. If I could afford designer clothing, I would want Oscar De La Renta ballgowns in Betsey Johnson colors.

So last night was blissful. Peter Max is not afraid of color. Or of repeating himself. Many variations on several themes. His new Marilyn portraits are just lovely, as is his portrait of Taylor Swift. The one which moved me to tears was his portrait for the ten year anniversary of 9/11. We see the Statue of Liberty from the back. She is looking across the water at the towers. And golden light is pouring over the city from her torch.

I gathered up my courage and went over to speak with him. I thanked him for brightening my life during a difficult time. He said I was sweet. (Proving that you really can fool some of the people, some of the time.) We talked for maybe five minutes. He asked if I had any of his art. I told him no, that I've been a single mom for much of my life. He reached for a post-it pad and made me a sketch and signed it for me.

I'm framing it.

I never know what's going to come out of my mouth. I told him I would see him in Heaven. He corrected me, gently and firmly.

"No, I will see you again, here."

"Yes, but when I see you again in Heaven, I will be an artist, too."

I think I know a little how Moses felt on Sinai, or Peter on the Mount of Transfiguration.

And then I came home and called my sister, who was really excited to hear that I've started to draw. And my friend in Oklahoma, who is an artist. Both of them got it.

I am just flat overwhelmed with the love and grace and mercy that is pouring down on me from Heaven. I will probably be a wreck in sacrament meeting this afternoon, and people will think I am grieving (or nuts, but I'm used to that).

Just, wow.

Dinner with Brother Sushi.

Boy, did I need that! He is such a good and constant friend. And the perfect antidote to a frustrating and exhausting day at work. Plus, I have leftovers. Maggiano's is having a special: order a stuffed pasta entrée, and they send you home with another to heat and enjoy later. I ate about a third of my entrée last night and will portion out the remainder for future lunches.

The bonus entrée will go into the freezer until I can get desensitized to tomatoes. There's a narrow ribbon of sauce down the middle as a garnish. I was so tired last night that I thought I would just have to find a new home for it.

Heading to the gym in a few minutes. Then to the grocery store to get things I need, but not in Costco quantities. Costco after that. A surprise party this afternoon. And a meet and greet at a gallery in BigD tonight for Peter Max. (Unless they have postcards for sale, I won't be able to buy any of his work. Who'd have thought a girl from Idaho would ever get to meet a cultural icon from the 70's.) In between, knitting and study and art practice and music practice and maybe even a nap.

Brother Sushi apologized for starting his dinner with a salad, when I didn't want one. I told him it was OK, because I drank my salad at breakfast.

So bored that I weighed myself.

Yes. I know I'm the one who has said repeatedly that she hasn't been bored in decades. Ordinarily, that would be true. However, our system has been down for the past day and a half. I am blessedly caught up on my knitting, which is in itself a lovely thing. But I would like to be able to do more than just knit. My phone comes and goes. My email comes and goes. I cannot upload my mail or calendar anything or file with the courts. I was, briefly, able to read the Harlot's blog.

So I went to the scale in the copy room and took off my shoes. I have lost 3.5 pounds in the past week. Plus the ones I lost between diagnosis and last week. Not sure what the differential might be between this scale and the one in my doctor's office.

I am hungry. All the time. (Side effect of the Metformin.) And parched. I've drunk over a pint of water already and am about to refill my bottle. Yesterday I put hash marks on the label. Four times. Half a gallon, people. Down the hatch and out through my toes in a Noo Yawk minute. I eat two hard boiled eggs and two cheese sticks and an ounce of nuts. Every day. Plus a smoothie and everything else.

Smoothies are proving to be an effective way to get enough fruits and vegetables. No way could I eat a salad with four cups of spinach in less than fifteen minutes. If at all. Grr it up with some almond milk, and it's working its magic in a couple of minutes.

I am blogging between bites of lunch. Half a can of Costco roast beef, the other half of last night's potato, and the leftover mushrooms. Not sure I can finish it. My meals are small but frequent. OK, constant. I am eating two to three times the protein that I ate when I was pregnant, which was way more than the "experts" thought was necessary. Drinking very little milk, mostly in the form of buttermilk. And yogurt. I miss Ben and Jerry, but not as much as I had feared. I miss bread. I am sleeping better, if not as long as I would like most nights. I am no longer needing Cherry Coke to get through the afternoon.

So life is good. I just hope I can get something work related done this afternoon.

Baby steps.

I have temporarily given up on the idea of standing and stretching every 20 to 30 minutes or so while I'm at work. But I am taking the stairs more often than not. And the past two days I have parked farther out than I typically would in the past.

Yesterday I made my second green smoothie.  It stayed with me longer than Tuesday's. Tuesday I had the headache from hades. It showed up around 11:00 and played hide and seek until dinner and Knit Night and some quality time with Fourthborn. So I'm thinking blood sugar plus sinus.

Last night I had a massage that was almost 100% biomechanical. Pretty cool. We confirmed that my sinuses are not happy.

I'm still trying to figure out how much to eat, and what, and when. But I feel a little stronger each day. Yay for exercise! And I am loving my music practice. I am a little bit stuck with my art practice, but there will be some time for that this weekend.

The artist Peter Max will be in the area this weekend. I'm going to try to catch one of the open house activities. I loved his stuff when I was younger. I have no idea what he's done since then.