Six weeks to go...and counting. My goal was to lose roughly 10 lbs -- at least 10, more would be great too -- by October 10th.
So that meant cleaning up my diet (just say no!) and ratcheting up the cardio and lifting intensity. What's more important? Well, diet is always most important. It is the fuel that makes the engine go. Without the right fuel and the right amounts, there will be no results from the cardio/lifting efforts.
No, none of this skinny-fat crap for me (note silly, brainless bimbos above). Lean, healthy, sexy muscle is the only way to go.
My Morning Hangout
Just before I stepped on the scale this morning for my weekly weigh-in, I wagered that the scale would show a loss. My clothes were looser. I felt leaner. The mirror was reinforcing these points. Yep. I'm betting on a lower scale number.
But I was wrong. The scale hadn't budged from last week. Getting leaner isn't a linear thing. It's a series of peaks and valleys and plateaus -- keeps it interesting, AND challenging. But none of that means that progress has stopped. When you know you've stuck to plan all week -- clean eating, sufficient cardio, targeted weight lifting, ample decent sleep, plenty of water -- check, check, check, check, check, and check, then you hold your head high and ignore the scale.
On the other hand, my bathroom mirror was very friendly to me this morning. In a word: Tighter. And that totally works for me. Screw the scale.
Undeterred, I'm pushing forward. And I'm not stopping until I'm proud.
Tuna T-Style
1 can of water-packed tuna, drained
7 g light mayo
14 g light sour cream
pinch of curry
3-4 Tbs of chopped celery, onion & jalepenos
1/2 packet Splenda
While browsing Craigslist for the Charlotte, NC, area yesterday evening, I wandered over to the real estate/vacation rentals section -- no particular reason -- and was scanning down the list of ads, when I saw an alluring ad for lakefront property listed for a crazy-low price. My curiosity got the best of me. How can this be? I must check this out.
My first reaction: WTF?
And then I laughed at how ridiculous this ad was. I laughed and laughed and laughed.
Ironically, based on the wordiness of the ad, the seller was apparently quite proud of his custom-built dream home. I guess it takes all kinds. We shake our heads in disbelief sometimes, questioning how or WHAT people are thinking when they do what they do.
Weirdosis.
I think that's a word...isn't it? If not, it should be.
I guess it's okay to be weird. Who decides what's weird and what's normal anyway?
So. Moving on.
My agenda for today:
Get into a Friday ridiculously amazing frame of mind.
Stop by Capitol Market for some fresh tomatoes (since ours are showing no interest in ripening anytime soon)
Make a return to Gabriel's; those "juniors-cut" black dress pants that I eyeballed instead of trying on - their dressing room annoys me -- are unfortunately too snug. Of course, they were, considering most juniors pants are made to fit ostrich legs.
Stop by Goodwill and unload four large boxes of "excess" -- ahh, the joy of decluttering!
Run by the grocery store for almond milk, asiago cheese, chicken breasts, fresh spinach, and a bottle of yummy Spanish red.
Leave work a little early to beat the traffic (and maybe the rain)
Tidy up the back porch, light some candles, listen to some Blank & Jones...or, second though, maybe just listen to the rain.
I can always tell when it's coming. Having reported for him this many years, I can almost feel it in my bones. He's not one fond of wasting time, and he's not afraid to tell 'em about it. In the meantime, I've mastered the art of suppressing giggles.
THE COURT: Mr. Lewis, do you want to sit here and argue all morning?
MR. LEWIS: No, Judge, I do not.
THE COURT: Well, then I've ruled. You have an objection on the record.
Let's get on with it. We're just --
MR. LEWIS: Yes, Your Honor.
THE COURT: -- You're chopping, but no chips are flying, buddy. You got any other motions?
MR. LEWIS: I do, Judge.
THE COURT: Let's go. Move.
THE COURT: Overruled. Let's get moving. May I ask -- Come here.
(Counsel approached the bench.)
AT THE BENCH AND OUT OF THE HEARING OF THE JURY:
THE COURT: What is the significance of this building permit? You have beat that thing -- that horse is deader than hell, about fix feet under. Can we move on to the issues here? I've been worrying about that damn building permit, and y'all done beat the hell out of that thing.
“I saw you coming,” a broad beautiful smile on her face
as she was opening her door for me. I
had texted my neighbor/friend yesterday afternoon while lying in the sun reading a magazine and listening to a You Tube Chillout mix of Spanish
guitar.(incidentally, that was a great
mix -- goes well with chillin in the sun specifically)Wondering how she was getting along since I
last visited, that dreadful day when I first saw her covered with cuts and
bruises and hemorrhaging, but miraculously no broken bones, I wanted desperately to spend a little time
with her and try to make her smile -- or better yet, laugh.It is without question the BEST kind of
medicine for healing.
Her eyes were no longer deep blackish-purple, and the
swelling had gone down in both of them.
She had a gigantic discolored knot on the top right of her forehead, and
her face was still splotched with dark patches of blue, purple and black. The usual scurrying gait she is known for was
gone, and she was walking more gently, deliberately, but still very much
ambulatory. For those who don’t know
her, the movements would have seemed almost normal. But she is a ball of constant motion and
energy -- one of the things that endears me to her -- and seeing her in first
gear was a big clue that healing is still very much ongoing.
Her dogs Lucy and Frosty greeted me at the door, and I
loved on them a little more than usual.
I’m sure their lives were a little off kilter too, and the extra love
and attention would do their hearts a world of good. As I was sitting her gift bag on the counter and
placing her ice cream I had brought her in the freezer, I spied a basket of beautiful
deep violet tulips nearby and told her I wished I’d brought my camera, I could
have had a field day with them. “You and
your artistic eye,” she laughed, “I think everything you see must appear as art
to you.” Hmmm. Interesting point. Likely true.
She knows me well.
I mentioned I had brought a bottle of red wine and
asked if she was up to sharing a glass with me -- we love our red wine, and
many of our more cherished times have been in the company of a glass of
vintage. With a characteristic twinkle in her eye, she said, “Oh, I haven’t
had a glass of wine in a while, that would be fantastic.” She mentioned she had just the thing to go
with our wine. A friend had stopped by
earlier with a small box of white chocolate covered strawberries, drizzled in dark. Yes.
Bingo, my friend. We are set!
Although my plan was to stay no more than an hour, I
could see as time passed that she was having a ball being able to unload and
exchange and laugh. The diversion had
become therapeutic, and I decided to go with the flow. She talked about her accident, her injuries,
her stages of healing. She mentioned
that her lawyer, who specializes in this sort of faulty acceleration
litigation, had stopped by and interviewed her, and we talked at length about
her case and other similar accidents like hers, the victims, the
circumstances. She wanted to talk. I listened.
She kept repeating how she still could not believe her life (and bones)
were spared, especially after seeing the photos. She said she can’t look at them any longer
because it makes her want to throw up.
As the conversation sequed into life since the accident, she mentioned
that friends and neighbors had been so good to her, and that her sons were
still very much in charge of seeing to her every need. This led to our discussing mutual friends,
surrounding neighbors, and I mentioned the neighbor who had been to see her the
day that I first stopped by. She rolled
her eyes, laughed a little cryptically, then said, “Oh, mercy…she means well.” She laughed some more. And then I laughed. And then we both started laughing
hysterically, erupting into a huge giggle fest.
The wine, it seemed, had begun to unleash its welcomed and remedial
properties. We both knew that this woman
drove everyone a little nuts, and she told me she always has to remind herself
when she sees her coming, “Now…be nice.”
We laughed again. It was no
secret the poor woman just had a terrible case of runs of the mouth.
This was my cue. I mentioned I had blogged about that woman
the very next day, having been so disturbed with her rudeness I wanted to punch
her out and drag her ass out of there right then. She laughed uncontrollably then said, "I want
to read the post!" I offered to read it
to her -- her eyesight still very challenged from the accident. After reading the post from my cell phone,
having to stop from time to time to allow her to catch her breath from
laughing, she said, “Oh, my gosh, I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed
this hard. It feels so good to be this
happy.”
She made my day.
It’s what I came for. This woman
needed and deserved a disconnect from sad and doubt and painful healing to a
restorative joy for life -- the kind of joy she is unmistakably known for.
I stayed another ten minutes or so, realizing she may
need to go lie down and rest. I had
brought her some DVD’s from my collection -- we share similar tastes in movies
-- and reminded her to enjoy the snacks I had brought her while watching one of
the movies tonight. “Oh, you’re reading
my mind,” she answered. “I’m gonna have
that ice cream! I’m craving that ice
cream!”
Yeah, tell me about it, I uttered to myself.
Meanwhile, I’m basking in the throes of dieting success,
down 9.5 lbs since February 3rd.
Totally turned around. My mood. What a difference one day makes.
I woke up this morning and noticed that the bedroom felt slightly cooler than usual. Now that I'm having constant hot flashes, it being cooler isn't much an issue with me, so I paid it not a lot of attention and headed downstairs to make coffee. On my way downstairs, I glanced at the thermostat. 62. Sixty-Two.
Oh.My.Gosh. Did I do that? Did I turn it down to 62 last night when I was having a meltdown? I giggled to myself.
As I was pouring myself a cup of coffee, my husband came downstairs and said, "Did you know the thermostat was set on 62?"
ME: "Really?" (inner giggle)
JFD: "No wonder I froze my ass off last night!"
ME: "Coffee's ready."
Guys have it too easy. Cold? Put on more clothes. Pile on more blankets. Hey, I'm woman. I have issues.
Two hours later I'm dressed and headed for the gym. I invited him. He declined. Of course he did. My workout was finally back up to par. The last couple of weeks my energy has been in the toilet and my appetite out the roof. I'd lost focus over the holidays, and it seemed I was finally getting my mojo back.
As I was finishing up, my clothes and gym towel soaked with sweat, I could smell a yummy aroma coming from The Grill. I know! I want a Power Pizza! It had been months since I'd had Power Pizza. It's made with whole wheat crust with only a bit of olive oil, lean chicken, fresh veggies and sauce. It's aMAYzing. I placed my order and asked them to have it ready in 45 mins, long enough to go home, have my post workout protein, shower, and then head back to the gym for my long-awaited post workout meal.
On my way from picking up the pizza, I stopped at the convenience store on the way back home and grabbed a diet A&W root beer to have with my pizza...and a six pack of Samuel Adams for my husband. I decided to surprise him with a new brew, one he hadn't tried before. Latitude 48 IPA.
Back home, I chowed on my two slices of power pizza with my root beer. Mercy. SO delicious.
And then I decided to try the SA beer.
Ugh. Bad choice. Way too stout for my tastes. After three sips, I handed it to him.
ME: Here. You wanna try this?
JFD: You don't want it?
ME: I don't like it. It's too...uh, strong? Stout? No. I can't drink this. Here (handing).
JFD: You drink it. I don't want a beer right now.
ME: Oh, come on. Drink it. Don't you want a beer while you're watching the football game? Ummmm!
JFD: FOOTBALL game? Are you serious?
ME: (Glancing at the TV) Oh. I mean, uh, the basketball game.
JFD: (Shaking his head laughing)
ME: Hey, I'm not paying attention to the game. I don't even know who's playing. I don't CARE!
JFD: Drink it. You can drink it. Go ahead.
ME: I don't like it....(pause)...hey, do you think they'll let me take the 5-pack back and exchange it for another kind?
JFD: (laughing) Oh, I'm sure they wouldn't mind. '...uh, excuse me, ma'am, uh, I don't like this beer, and uh, I was wondering if, uh, you'd let me bring this back and switch it out for another 5-pack, you know, kind of an even trade thing...?'
ME: (laughing harder) Yeah! Whadaya think? Should I give it a shot?
JFD: (taking a sip of my beer) What I think is that we need to see if anyone wants this beer. I don't know. It's okay for the right moment. Maybe like when you're sitting out by the fire on a cold night. This is the kind of beer for that occasion.
ME: No. Not even then. Not for me.
Oh, well. It was the thought that counts, right? I wanted to surprise you with some new beer. I guess I should stick to what I know.
JFD: That was nice of you to think of me.
ME: I know. I'm nice like that. (Sexy smirk) Your turn...
