I have been half-heartedly following a diet and exercise plan during the summer months.  Some days I stick to it well and other days, not so much.  My 5 pound-weight drop Saturday (read hangover-induced vomiting) was the kick in the pants that I have been waiting for.  There is no way I am gaining back that weight!!  As a way to further encourage myself I created a list of top reasons I am DETERMINED to stick to this plan.

1.  Dating…through a couple of websites I have managed to meet a few nice guys and have been on a couple of dates.  I plan to go on more dates.   Some of those dates may lead to…um, yeah I need to be a little skinnier.

2.  Clothes…I can’t afford to buy new school clothes.  If I didn’t have a closet stuffed full of dresses and skirts in smaller sizes that may be a problem.  As it is I have enough outfuts to wear as I work my way down to a size 12.   Why spend the money if I don’t have to?

3.  London…The family trip to London is a little over 2 months from now.  Not only would I like to fit in the plane seat a bit more comfortably but I also need to be in shape for all the walking that is going to be a part of our vacation.

4.  My daughter…S starts middle school this year.  I am not so out-of-touch that I am unaware of the importance middle-school girls place on appearance.  If I am taking better care of myself and my appearance then I am a good role model for S and hopefully my habits will rub off on her.

5. Heredity…There is no nice way to say this — the women on my mom’s side of the family are all overweight.  If we line up side by side, it is so obvious where our problem spots are.   When I look at some of my female relatives, I see my future if I don’t get my weight under control now.  Lose 60 pounds now or 150 pounds in ten years…no brainer!     

6. Depression…My weight now is causing me to feel a bit depressed.  I don’t like feeling depressed — it makes me want to eat.  If I can drop some weight I’m hoping to banish the blues.

Based on the poem “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon

I’m from canefields and the Friday night fais do-do,

from gumbo, beans and rice, cochon de laits,

and “Throw me something mister!”

Where the Church touches all and the spirits

        are always flowin’.

 

I’m from Adele’s Christmas tree cookies and camping trips

        with Roy and Mary,

from forced Sunday naps with Momma, bad jokes from Daddy

        (you must chuckle),

and spanking-earning bed-time trouble with Booger.

Where being family mean fighting and laughing

        and the love is unconditional.

 

I’m from trips across the prairie with Half-Pint,

from Tandy computers, brain teasers, and field trips

        with Mrs. T and her kids,

and the diapers, tantrums, and learned responsibility to go

        with the extra spending money.

Where lessons come in different form and heroes

        have unexpected faces.

 

No longer there,

no longer here,

always with me

making any place

Home.

Standing among thousands of screaming Papa Roach fans, I came to a startling realization -  I’m over him.  We will always be friends and he will always be a part of my life, but I no longer have a desire to rekindle a romantic relationship.  After a year I suppose many people would say this realization was a long time coming…they would be right.  Since the day he left I have searched for my place in a world without him; many times I felt secure on my own but at other times I floundered.  The past 2 months have been especially difficult as I have struggled to face the fact that while I still harbored non-platonic feelings he did not.  My hyper-romantic tendencies and overactive imagination spun many tales in which he came to his senses, realized he couldn’t live without me, and begged me on bended knee to take him back.  Living in this fantasy world was painful and unhealthy, but I never could seem to break free.  So what changed?  I have no idea.  I admit that I prayed for God to release me from this struggle and perhaps He chose last night to wipe that slate clean.  Perhaps spending social time with him reminded me of the some of the reasons why we didn’t work out in the first place.  Perhaps my eagerness for the future has pushed aside my longing for the past.  Perhaps it was simply time.  Whatever precipitated this change I am glad it has finally happened. 

In the course of my Warcraft marathon last night I completed the following quest:

Level 61	Hellfire Peninsula
Obtained at level 58	HordeAlliance
Use the Felhound Whistle to summon a Fel Guard Hound. Take the Fel Guard Hound for a walk and kill some Deranged Helboars. Search for the Shredder Keys in the Fel Guard Hound’s “leavings.” Return the Shredder Keys to Foreman Razelcraz by the mine northwest of Thrallmar.
Shredder Keys: 0/1
Felhound Whistle: 0/1
I finally got my shredder working but I seem to have lost the keys. I keep a pack of felhounds to protect my camp. They don’t do a very good job and they like to bite me a lot. They also like shiny things. I think this one felhound I have may have eaten my shredder keys. I’ll pay you if you’ll take my felhound on a walk. Kill some helboars and let him eat. He’ll do his business. When he’s done, see if you can’t find the keys in his “leavings.”

For you non-WoW players (and shame on you for not being one of the 10 million people worldwide who play!) I basically had to get this “dog” to follow me as I killed a few demon hogs.  The dog then ate the corpse of the hog and shat on the ground.  I was then required to dig through the pile of Fel Gaurd Hound ’Leavings’ which looks like this:

 

Okay, so by this point I am cracking up laughing.  The programmers at Blizzard are freakin’ hilarious, and I love it when they add crazy things like this to the game.   Digging through hog shit for a key…genius!!

Now here’s the best part — you have to dig through several piles of poo before you find the key.  Each time you dig, your character emanates a green wavy aura and you are cursed.  The name of the curse?  STANKY!!  See below for details:

 

 I LOVE IT!!  The best WoW quest I’ve done by far

 

Several weeks ago I was at a poolside gathering with several female acquaintances.  The normal female talk somehow wound its way to eyebrows.  As I listened, the other women spent at least 10 minutes proclaiming the joys and bemoaning the woes of several different eyebrow maintenance practices; plucking, waxing, threading, and tattooing.  One of the women noticed I had contributed nothing to this riveting conversation and looked at me, perfectly trimmed eyebrows raised in question, and asked, “So what do you do?”  After an awkward 10-second silence I muttered in embarrassment, “Nothing really.  I’ve never thought so much about eyebrows until this very moment.”  “Oh,” she responded and turned back to the other eyebrow expert with a look of horror on her face.  “I see!” 

As I cared little for a majority of these women, I quickly forgot this conversation…until today.  Spend fifteen minutes cleaning out your dresser drawer of old swimsuits and tell me that you don’t run head first into the brick wall of self-reflection.  Spend an hour in the bath with a Dean Koontz novel and and couple of beers and tell me that you don’t emerge with a line of thought something like this:

All those women were married.  All of those women perform regular eyebrow maintenance.  I am not now nor have I ever been married.  I have no regular eyebrow maintenance.  Oh my god…perfect eyebrows are the key to getting married.  Men are subconsciously judging women by their eyebrows and I am failing every test.   Somehow the well-coiffed female eyebrow signals love, affection, great sex, home cooking, a clean house, maternal strength, and a willness to still let you hang out with the guys and drink beer especially during the big game.  A non-maintained eyebrow must therefore speak of…oh the horrors cannot be named!  No wonder I’m single, my eyebrows are sending out signals that drive the guys away worse than garlic breath and a hair-growing wart at the tip of my nose.          

Yes, my mind truly operates this way….

Sarah and I just finished our first non-fast food meal in the new apartment.  Although the food was nothing fancy (Red Baron Four Cheese Pizza) I am hoping that this is the beginning of a new tradition.  We ate dinner at the dining room table, complete with place mats and cloth napkins.  After the meal Sarah helped clear the table and wash the dishes.  With the guaranteed drama that is bound to come with Sarah’s first year of middle school I want to make certain that our line of communication stays open, and I am hoping that sitting down for dinner every night is a step in that direction. 

As a good American citizen, I follow the instructions of my President.  He said, “Spend this economic stimulus payment and solve the U.S. economic problems.”  Okay. 

One premium seat at the Dallas/Detroit playoff game next Wednesday = $202

Gas, beer, food and other items necessary to enjoy the game= $100

Being a good American = priceless

I expect my fellow Americans to step up to the plate and spend their stimulus money in a way that not only makes them happy but also benefits our great country.  Afterall, Dub-Ya said we should.

Go Red Wings!!

The bandit is back…damn him!!

Over the weekend I heard strange noises from the attic and wondered if the critters had found a way back into the house…they have. 

As I was watching the Red Wings game I heard wierd metallic noises coming from the laundry room.  I ran to investigate and got there just in time to see him.  A raccoon was climbing down from the attic via the water heater piping.  I sprung into action — grabbed both cats (useless animals were just sitting there looking at the ‘coon), slammed the laundry room door, and yelled for backup (my daugher).  We pounded on the door then grabbed a flashlight and headed out the front door.  The laundry room has 2 doors, one to the outside and, opposite it, one to the house.  The back door has a window so we were able to shine the flashlight into the room and search for the little bugger…he was gone.  I raced back to the front door, ran to the laundry room and, while the coast was clear, grabbed the litter box then sealed the room shut.

I foolishly assumed the excitement was over…WRONG!  About an hour later I noticed my cats acting strangely so I followed them to the kitchen.  That’s when I heard him…he was apparantly back in the laundry room and this time he sounded pissed.  I could hear him bouncing off the door, the washer, and scratching the walls.  I made sure the door was firmly latched then pounded on it in the hopes of getting him to retreat back to the attic.  Finally I heard him scampering overheard and knew he was out of the house.

Needless to say I won’t get much sleep tonight.  I’m thinking of bringing my daughter and the cats into my bedroom and locking us all in for the night…yes, I tend to over-react! 
 

I was bored tonight and wasting time on YouTube…found a kick-ass highlight video of Pavel Datsyuk (my future husband).  Even non-hockey fans can appreciate his amazing skills on the ice.  Enjoy!

 

My boss bought me a Dr. Pepper…a real Dr.Pepper, not one of the diet ones I’ve been drinking for the past month.  I love her! 

As I walked into the building Friday morning Peggy saw me yawning and made a comment about being so tired at the end of a long week.  I mumbled in agreement and went to my classroom to prepare for the day.  Twenty minutes later at our morning meeting (think of homeroom with all the students meeting in the cafeteria and using small-group time to build relationships)  Peggy asked me if I’d like a Dr. Pepper.  She and I are the only ones on campus who have such a strong love/hate relationship with the yummy beverage and we often commiserate over the difficulties of surviving a day without one; I suspect she saw the longing in my eyes and felt sympathy for a fellow addict.  When she asked if I wanted one, I hesitated for a brief moment, remembering my resolve to lose weight, and then caved when I thought of savoring the goodness of a real Dr. Pepper.  She promised to drop it off in my classroom after she walked across the street to purchase it….that’s right, she actually had to walk to the store to make good on her offer.

I ask you, is there a better boss out there?  No other high school principal I know (or at the least have worked for) would take care of her teachers in this way.  I’m never leaving this school