Diet, schmiet!

Sometimes, if I leave the bathroom door open, I can see the mountains as I pee.

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. It can be self taught, and the motive behind it is wanting to change habits. Its a well documented method to help people who have psychological disorders manage their issue(s), like obessive-compulsive disorder, eating disorders, things of that nature.

To this day I cannot understand why, with all my passion and drive to be a healthier, hotter version of chubby me, I am unable most days to Just Say No to eating. I’ve covered the fact that I know I eat without being hungry, but the question remains as to WHY. I’m not consciously suicidal or a masochist or want the drama with a massive body.

WHY.

My journey began long ago with the right step into the wrong direction. I clued in that there was nothing inherently wrong with a diet; there was something wrong with me. So I began treating symptoms without knowing what the problem was. I read Intuitive Eating, a blueprint of sorts that helps a person mentally throw off the chains of food obsession. It didn’t work exactly, but it was an excellent step.

Next came the Feeding the Hungry Heart series, a first person anti-diet autobiography by Geneen Roth. She’s says upfront that this is a chronicle of what worked for her, and what worked for her may not work for someone else. Her method did not quite work for me, but the knowledge of her journey was another good step.

Then came Normal Eating (see links at the left), a forum that required a lot of time and dedication to the anti-diet mentality. It wasn’t quick enough for someone like me, someone who has 60 pounds of weight to lose, and I found that most women on that website didn’t have that kind of a burden. Sure, they dealt with compulsive eating and such, but most were at or near a healthy weight. They didn’t get my sense of urgency, so while I still recommend that site to anyone because the women there ARE good and helpful and sweet, it wasn’t the place for me yet.

All these steps were in the short cut path towards solutions, but I didn’t even know my problem yet.

I still don’t.

BUT, I’m closer. I’ve now switched my direction towards figuring out what the hell my problem is in the first place and then working from there. I picked up a couple of books at the library. First, I read YOU: On A Diet, cover to cover recently. It was wonderfully indepth as to how our body works, how it digests, what hormones come into play, what other chemicals, etc. Its rather complicated to regurgitate, but here is a summary of things that stood out to me:

1. The body has two “I’m full!” actions that occur when a person should be full. A signal is sent to the brain that you are full and it closes the connection between the stomach and the upper intestine. Then there is another that occurs when stuff is moving through the rest of the intestines. While there is no doubt things get closed, the thought never occurs to me that I’m full. So either my mental processes are overriding that signal or that signal is not getting sent.
2. I’m UBER sensitive to pot, to the point that even the smallest amount will knock me over and pass me straight out, yo. That is one of the many reasons I haven’t touched the stuff in years. What does that need to do with weight loss? I just thought it mellowed me out too much, and combined with the chronically low blood pressure, it made me pass out. Maybe not:

Marijuana…has its own receptors that overwhelm leptin, which is one big reason why pot smokers get the munchies.

Leptin is the hormone of satisfaction. “Stimulation of leptin…shuts off your hunger and stimulates you to burn more calories - by stimulating CART.” CART: “CART stimulates the surrounding hypothalamus to increase metabolism, reduce aqppetite, and increase insulin to deliver energy to muscle cells rather than be stored as fat.”
In Sum: I’M NEVER FULLY SATISFIED. With anything. I will rub something so far into the ground that there is nothing left. I kill topics, I am never satisfied with my job, I can never get enough entertainment, I can never get enough food. Because I am not satisfied.
3. There are also chemicals that make you want to eat, like NPY and ghrelin. Although the book does indicate that NPY turns off satiety and then stimulates the ghrelin to produce hunger symptoms, I don’t think those are my enemy. I’m never hungry, and those chemicals tend to make you hungry (NPY turns off satiety, signals ghrelin to tell brain that you are hungry). Again, this enforces my theory that I’m suffering from a lack of satiety rather than excessive hunger.
4. Stress, even if you aren’t aware of it, affects these chemicals.
5. I’ve been tested for all the glandular disorders that make people fat. I’m in the clear.
6. I do have a lot of documentation of being an emotional eater. No surprise there. But there are a series of brain chemicals that deal with emotions. Norepinephrine (fight or flight!) can be controlled by Wellbutrin, or bupropion, and the pill can also affect dopamine. Its supposed to raise metabolism, effectively helping the taker lose weight. I was on it. While it smoothed out my emotions like it was supposed to, I gained weight. No impact on the metabolism, or if it did, my eating also increased thereby negating any positive response from Wellbutrin. So perhaps I should look into other pills that may help me get control of my chemicals? Like maybe serotonin, that can be balanced with Meridia. I wonder what Alli does…

The books suggest eliminating variety (eat the same foods every day) and eating the right foods. The right foods can balance out the satiety chemicals. The plan itself isn’t all that revolutionary, but the detail of the human body digestive system is fascinating. Another good step.

Finally we come to CBT. I can eat only so much of the right foods and make sure my diet is relatively the same day in day out, but my behavior must go through an overhaul. I managed to quit smoking after 10 years of trying without CBT. I was ready to give up smoking, and the time and the circumstances were right (Mr. H quit too) so that I could be a success.

Today, I feel that the tool I need to help re-learn satiety and to help my body listen to itself is to go through CBT exercises to delve deep into the emotions that go behind my eating. You list your ABC’s: Action, Behavior, Consequences. What am I feeling? Why do I want to perform the action? What is the motivation? Ok, now that I know, CHOOSE different actions. Upon reflection, its a whole lot like what Normal Eating encourages: recording thoughts and actions. Understanding your motivations. But I think this book on CBT is more thoroughly thought-out and outlined. I’m still reading the book on CBT and working through some of the science behind the therapy but I have hope that it’ll all work out in the end.

I’m tired of failing and not completely understanding why I’m to blame. Cuz I am, but if I don’t understand why I do the things I do, I’ll continue fighting the wrong fight, feeling awful and depressed at my continued failures, and my self-esteem will end up in China.

There you go! Thanks for reading!

She’s the freakin’ Secretary of State, yo. She negotiates world politics by day and fits in an hour workout before dawn. Read it in Fitness magazine.

And so today I upped my daily exercise from my 30-45 minute walk with Dog in the morning to that plus 30 minutes on the elliptical (the apt complex has a pretty sweet gym). I’ve weightlifted there a couple of times in the last month, but for the most part I’ve been dependent on my walks at the dog park for my exercise.

The scale isn’t really budging yet, so time to get serious. No, seriously. SUPER seriously. Ok, ok…I have a rightfully earned reputation for being a one-woman diet-relay team, flipping ideas every 2 weeks. Not this time, my friends. I’ve actually walked that dog 5-6 times a week for a month. Every weekday morning, unless it was raining. And at least once during the weekend. Dog is lookin’ svelte and she has a waist! I suppose its time to find mine.

How was the elliptical workout? Double edged sword. Well, truth be told, its more like a butter knife and I’m being so knitpicky about the so called “bad” that I’m managing to cut myself with the dull side. The bad is that, mentally:
AHAIGAOIAHIOWHGIOAHDHGTOIHWOIEAHFIHAWIHGH!

I. Loathe. It. Its just so incredibly boring. The best exercise I get is when I don’t even realize I’m getting it, which is why walking Dog every morning rules because I’m more focused on running the hell out of her and not realizing that I’m walking a mile or two on my own. Thankfully I had a magazine to distract and dull the mind. I’d rather have my iPod with me (the ear buds are done, I tell you! Done! I. Loathe. Ear buds. Too.), but the magazine (Fitness) had to suffice.
At 8 minutes, my legs were already a little woozy, and I kept checking every 6 to 8 minutes. My legs were woozy afterwards too. I was breathing a little heavier than normal.

The good side of the sword is that the motion of the elliptical feels like it targets some of the muscles needed to climb stairs, and my vertical motions is woefully inferior to my horizontal (re: I can walk well for someone of my size, but I cash out on the stairs). I’d like to be a better climber, especially out here. I’m hoping that if I keep up with this several times a week, teamed with my continued walks with Dog, I will improve my health.

That’s what its coming down to now, isn’t it? Health? Heh, well, I’m sure I’m convincing most of myself that is all, but there is a bit of vanity in me that just wants to look smokin’ hot one of these days. That, and I want a belly button ring.

Lastly, completely unrelated to exercise and health, is the funniest spam message I’ve ever received:
Subject line: loricious, what a stupid face you have here.

It keeps cracking me up. Not enough to actually open it, but darn clever.

So how about the last thing first, just because I feel like talking about something totally mundane and unimportant.

I caught about a half an episode of the reality show Denise Richards: Complicated. I can say, publicly, that I love this show, and it totally sells her well. Maybe its because she lives on a farm, is from the Midwest, owns about 25 animals, loves her pa, and laughs from the belly. Whatever it is, I totally dig Ms. Richards. If you ever have a spare moment to TiVo or DVR her show, watch for about 5 minutes. I don’t really care whether or not she stole Richie Sambora from Heather Locklear, and I frickin’ HATE Charlie Sheen (how in the world did this terrible “actor” get famous? Oh yeah. His dad…) so I don’t even care about that crap, but seeing a Hollywood actress hunting across the county for a piglet stud to impregnate her beloved potbellied pig Charlotte (no, not original, but darn cute name) completely unapologetically and without an entourage… well, that’s my kind of woman.

Anyway.

Bizarre Encounters At The Dog Park
I was at the dog park this morning, as usual, and even earlier than normal. Imagine my surprise when I pulled into the parking lot at 7:20 and at least 10 cars were already there. I was a bit bummed cuz I sorta like having the place mostly to ourselves when we are there. But, ah well, time to get the wiggles out of Dog.

We begin working our counter-clockwise circuit towards the horse corral. Here are the following instances that normally do not happen during our quiet, invigorating walks:
1. A boxer noticed that I was chucking a ball for Dog and decided to come up and say hello. Although I’m sure it was just his version of playing around, he liked to growl and snap at Dog’s neck. I was unamused.
2. Then Lassie noticed I was chucking a ball for Dog. He came right over as I was poised to throw and seemed to mentally encourage me to throw that ball so that he, not Dog, could catch it. I refused. He peed on me.
3. Four horses were moseying outside the corral. Kinda freaked me out because they were about to come around the corner of the wire fence, so I didn’t realize immediately they weren’t inside the fence. The turned the corner, I said, ooooh, sit, Dog. Sit. Stay. Then the lead horse thought I looked interesting and decided to advance on me. I continued to back away and encouraging Dog to follow suit. I realize I wasn’t facing off a moose this time, but Mr. H would have had some issues if I managed to let Dog get kicked in the face. Eventually the horse and his buddies lost interest in me and grazed their way on. Dog, oddly enough, seemed completely oblivious to the fact that four massive animals strode past. She was instead completely fixated on the ball that I would not throw.
4. Dog found horse poo and tasted it. She never goes for dog poo or any other kind of poo. Only the huge hay-ee piles of horsey poo seems to appeal to her palate. And she rarely finds any horsey poo anyway. But today, of course, she did.

I have pics of the horseys on the other website as well as just general pictures of that day.

Today has been a good day. I’ve been really “oh poor is me” for the last couple of days, fretting over not getting a job so far and everything. I must have woken up on the best side of the bed today because I didn’t get ornery with Dog, didn’t try to go out and shop, handed in my application packet for the program I’m trying to get into, and am looking forward to making handmade pizza for date night tonight.

I think it helped talking to my mom yesterday. She kindly reminded me that, despite the fact that nothing is coming my way so far, there is a reason for it. And at least we have a roof over our heads and each other to love. Ah, nothing like a mom’s perspective to make me appreciate my pretty darn good life.

I miss you all, and I hope life is treating you as well as its treating me.

Peace!

So dubbed since this will bounce all over the place.

Disgrace to the symbol
I start my day with a cup of coffee seasoned with a bit of unsweetened vanilla Almond Breeze (a milk) and a tsp. of Xylitol (a tooth friendly sweetener). I hook Dog up to a leash and she leads me to my car so we can play fetch at the State park a couple of miles away. As I head out the drive to the road at 8am (usually I’m out by 7:30 but this morning I was running late), some kids are on the corner waiting for the school bus. One 7th-8th grader was trying to impress the girls and everyone else who wanted to watch. Which was the whole gaggle of tweens on the corner. This kid decided to take his hooded Superman sweatshirt and stick his entire head into on sleeve and run back and forth across the street, delightedly relying on the kids yelling at him, “Watch out for the car!”. Under normal circumstances, I would have found this scene hilarious, because there are few things in life more funny than seeing a tween trying to look cool by sticking his entire head into one sleeve of a sweatshirt and running around like an idiot. Since he was doing this around TRAFFIC, he transcended from being a cute dipshit to a fucking idiot. Luckily, the traffic was sparse (he almost got hit when I was coming out of the apt. complex). When he tried to run in front of MY car, I laid on the horn so hard I think his momma is going to find track marks in his tighty whities come laundry day.

A Special Kind of Special
Our sweet little lab is so… special. For this entire week, I’ve been leaving the house with Mr. H to take Dog to the dog park and run her chubby little butt off. At the beginning, she was so exhausted I had to periodically find her in the house to check if she was still breathing. Today, 5th day of fetch, she’s still looking for more. And I would have given her more if she were more talented in the activity of fetch.

See, this is what Dog does when I so much as twitch my hand with the ball in it: she takes off like a bat out of hell in some random direction and does not look back. Which means when I am actually chucking the ball (I use a chucker - makes the ball go much further than what I would ever be capable of, even if I took steroids), she pays absolutely no attention to where I’m actually throwing the ball. By the time she notices that the ball hasn’t come into her periphery and turns around, the ball has already landed in the tall thick grass.

I’ve tried making her sit before I chuck it. I’ve tried making her lay down before I chuck it. And she has obeyed. However, there is still one problem. Let me take you into the mind of Dog:

Dog: Throw the ball, woman! Throw the ball! Sit down? Are you sure? Fine. I sit.
Dog sits.
Dog: See, I sit.
Loricious winds up to throw.
Dog: Oh you are going to throw the ball! I so excited!!!
Dog takes off in random direction.
Dog: BALL! The ball! I should be seeing the ball!
Dog slows, eventually turns around.
Dog: WOMAN! Where is the ball?
Loricious is furiously pointing in opposite direction.
Dog: Oh, you mean over here? Don’t worry. I find.
Dog heads in different direction than indicated by Loricious. Loricious stomps over to the ball (so really, I’m just playing fetch with myself) and yells to Dog.
Dog: YOU have ball? Wonderful! I so excited!
Dog returns to general vicinity of Loricious and highly coveted Ball.
Dog: You tell me to sit? I sit. I so excited! You tell me to lay down? I lay down. I still so excited!
Loricious tells Dog that sort of hovering between standing up and laying down is not laying down.
Dog: Fine. You catch me. I lay down. Mmmm, excited.
Dog lays down. Loricious winds up. Dog takes off. Loricious clears throat.
Dog: Oh, you didn’t throw. That is so strange. Throw the ball. Sit? Fine, I sit. I…must run, I so excited. But I sit. Lay down? Fine, I lay down. But I must run…. ah…. ok, ok, I lay down…so…excited…. All the way down? Fine, I lay with my belly on the ground….ah….throw ball…
Loricious waits.
Dog: Throw ball. Must run. Throw ball. Must run. Throw ball.
Loricious twitches.
Dog: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GET BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!! MUST RUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dog takes off in random direction.

And so forth.

Unable To Find My Center
Why? Try sitting on the floor, in a lotus position, focusing on your breathing, and having an 80 pound lab breathe in your face.

What I Am
I don’t have a job. I haven’t even gotten a nibble on the resumes I’ve sent out. I’m at odds with these facts. Let’s just ignore the blaring, obvious fact that we really don’t want to be a single income family. We could survive on Mr. H’s paycheck, but it is certainly not by choice especially when we have no kids. So, on one hand, kind of the cons of not having a job, I think I’ve always been a person defined by a job. Whether I hated it or loved it, what I did for a living was who I was. I was a geologist, for better for worse. I was working for the DNR. I was a grad student. My lack of a job is a lack of definition of who I am. To make up for this, I’m trying to pay more attention to Dog, keep the house clean, go to the library and read books, search for jobs. The books, that’s another thing. I’m trying to step outside my cute sci-fi/fantasy book box and try to read other books. Books that make me sound intelligent. Although I am working on my self esteem daily as well, the fact that I was always the “smart one” in my family is gnawing at me. I didn’t get into grad school to get my PhD, I can’t get a job. Ergo, I really am not smart at all. How can I keep up that charade for those who don’t already know I’m full of shit? By reading a lot of books and trying to read books that have some sort of reputation of being intelligent reads. If it walks like a duck and acts like a duck… Which is a shame that I’m putting that spin on such an innocent pasttime that I’ve enjoyed since I was physically able to lift up a book.

Its so crap that my entire self-esteem was built on this perception of me being smart. What I should be thinking is: WHO the hell cares? And the truth is that NOBODY cares, and perhaps that’s also an issue. People who truly love me don’t care about my reading material, that I’m quite overweight and not classically pretty, that I have as much grace as a three-legged blind gazelle. And I know they don’t. BUT WHY DO I?

In a previous post I stated that I was not defined by my physical environment but rather an emotional and spiritual influence. Did I define myself by my family and friends? Did I define myself by what I perceived were their expectations? Am I now just trying to define myself by what I perceive is my husband’s expectations? Am I defining myself as a loser because of a lack of a job, lack of any credible, recent accomplishments?

I think I am, and I really want to change that frame of mind. But how? Still trying to figure that one out, I’m afraid.

A part of me is really enjoying this little sabbatical, and another part of me is feeling guilty for enjoying the sabbatical. I do enjoy reading, I do enjoy cooking. Hell, I even enjoy daily chores.

Plus, this one instance, this cross country move is giving me a chance of a lifetime: to start over, to get a grip of a part of who I really am, of what I really enjoy. I can’t define myself by the majestic mountain range outside my window, or by the job I will eventually get. I can’t define myself by anyone else except in part by my husband, my partner in life and aside which I will walk until I die. He helps define parts of me.

The rest I guess I’m just going to have to figure out on my own. Its actually scary to start over at the age of 30. What am I afraid of though? What I might find?

I’m finding that I have no velocity, no speed, in my life. (watch out now, I’m getting philosophical again)

I feel no change, physically. I also do not feel profoundly different in my sense of self. I have had moments of emotional upheaval, but they were brief storms in the quiet of my being, my life. I feel not one iota different here, at this age, than I did a month ago. Yet I’ve displaced myself a month in time and 1000 miles in horizontal distance. And about 7000-9000 feet vertically.

But I feel no different.

When I went to Europe back in 2003, I expected to “feel” different, about where I was, who I was, how my life brought me so far from home and so far from who I was and am. But I didn’t. I was just Loricious, propelled across the Earth and feeling no different for the effort.

Don’t get me wrong; I loved Europe and had a blast there. But the physicality of being there had no impact on me, just as being so far from Wisconsin is having little or no impact on my daily life here.

The profound experiences in my life are not defined by space and time. I’m finding that profound experiences in my life are defined almost entirely in the spiritual sense. Therefore whether I’m in Wisconsin my parents livingroom, or sitting in a hut in Botswana, I would “feel” no different. I would experience no profound change.

If time is a manmade arbitrary construct and distance is an arbitrary manmade construct, then speed is also arbitrary and manmade.

Ergo, you are only as old as you feel. Age and distance are in the mind.

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

In a wildly different but not entirely unrelated topic, I’ve finally pinpointed why my mashed potatoes suck out here. Because of the change in elevation, water boils at a lower temperature, therefore cooking potatoes at a lower temperature therefore requiring the cooking time to increase to compensate for the lower temperature.

I did not realize this and have been boiling my potatoes for roughly the same amount of time at a lower temperature. Therefore, my mashed potatoes have been unusually lumpy and undercooked. I finally figured this out while driving around the city trying to get a state park sticker.

I’m not sure what triggered the epiphany, but I’m glad it did. We enjoy a good ball of mashed taters.

That’s all for now!

Yet, being here, snuggled in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains, doesn’t feel much different. Its still odd being unemployed, true, but nothing else feels quite different yet. I shop at King Soopers instead of Pick N Save, I wake up in a smaller-than-my-house apartment instead of my own home, I kiss my husband goodbye as I try to find ways to fill my day every morning.

Really, not that catastrophically different.

I am infinitely healthier, that I can assure one and all from the get go. I won’t venture to guess how long my newfound healthiness will last, but I will say that I am happy. I’m not using food to dull feelings, I’m far more active (cuz, hello, mountains, people), and I think I’m just, in general, more happy.

Not to say that being here was all roses to begin with.

Oh no. Mr. H and I were going to kill each other for awhile. We’ve pinned it down to the fact that I’ve switched roles and expectations were different on both ends as to what that means, specifically in reference to the concept of “unpacking.” We’ve both resolved our issues and this last 5 days have been awesome.

We’ve driven all over the area and are continually amazed at the scenery. There is just something about the country out here that makes a person feel absolutely small. And its not a bad thing; the change in reference is astounding and peaceful. It sort of makes all the sad thoughts about life kind of drift away because they are so light and weightless in comparison to the enormity of the world. If I’m feeling at all down, all I really need to do is look out my kitchen window at the front range and its snow-topped peaks and be… at peace.

I’ll try to update more often now that we are starting to get settled here. I hope this message finds everyone healthy and happy. A special shout out goes to all the moms and moms-2-be out there! Happy Belated Mother’s Day!!!

I think the last time I was officially unemployed was the year 2000. It was between field camp in Utah and my first job as a geologist in Illinois. The time was only a matter of a month or two, nothing dramatic or crippling.

And ever since then I’ve always held some sort of job, whether I was a temp worker, a geologist, a government employee, doing data entry for the public library… I never left a job without having another one waiting in the wings.

Yet here I am.

I’m giddy, I’m nervous, I’m terrified. I’m SO excited! But I’m so conflicted!

I may have found a new career, not one I’m ready to share with the masses, not until I have throroughly researched it and started to implement my idea. Let’s just say I’ve been inspired by two other women in my life who have chosen this particular vocation, and I think its what I’ve been looking for my entire life, career wise.

I’ll keep you in suspense, but updated.

I’ll likely go a month without officially working. Oh, I’ll be working in a manner of speaking alright. I have a ton to do to make sure we settle in the Ol’ West safe and sound, including finishing the packing, cancelling and ordering utilities, phones, cable modem, license plates, driver’s licenses, applications for jobs, getting Cat to the vet so we can knock him the hell out during the drive.

Which reminds me: Cat, my dear son, knows something is up. How do I know this? He won’t stop asking questions about it, that’s why. All frickin’ night, that’s also why. Earlier this week when I had to take Pup out of the house so the appraiser could appraise without being sniffed in unholy places, I went to Pet Smart to buy her a new collar and some aromatherapy for Cat.

Remember Cat had a bit of a urinating problem? In that he was affectionately baptizing the same corner of our bedroom? After flooding the area with anti-cat urine juice, I researched methods of prevention. We’ve instituted 2, with another still going through trial and error. First, we are keeping his litter spotless. Second, I’ve sprinkled the area with pepper. Last, is this. Its synthetic kitty pheromones. You know when your cat rubs up against you, face first? Ever notice your cat rubbing its own face whilst cleaning? That behavior stimulates pheromone glands that soothes and relaxes the cat. So this spray is, essentially, aromatheraphy. I used 3 tiny sprits, just because I wasn’t sure how it was going to smell. It didn’t smell at all, and while my cat showed mild interest in the pillow we lightly scented, it obviously wasn’t enough to keep him quiet last night.

Cat: Mom, what are you doing?
Me: I’m trying to get to sleep. Where are you?
C: Over here. I’m thinking about coming up on the bed.
M: Well, come on up.
C: I’m thinking about it. Where is the best place to jump up there?
M: Don’t care, honey. Just come up.
C: But where?
M: Here. You always jump up right here.
C: I’m not sure how I feel about that. How do you feel about that?
M: Cat, seriously. Stop meowing and just come up here for crying out loud.
C: Fine.
*Cat jumps up. Tries to snuggle between Mr. H and me.*
C: So, I’m thinking here.
M: That’s very good honey. Now lie down.
C: Don’t force it, Mom. I need to examine the physics of plopping down here versus here. I need maximum comfort while have access to your exposed skin. You know I can’t sleep unless I’m touching your arm or face.
M: Right. Just hurry up.
*Cat finally plops down*
C: So. How does your face taste tonight?
M: Ack! Stop licking my face! (at this point in time I either start to flick Cat in the face or blow in his face)
C: Ack! Stop blowing in my face. So. How does your finger taste tonight?
M: Ack! Stop licking my finger!
C: Ack! Stop flicking me!
M: Ack! Stop licking my arm!
C: Ack! Stop blowing in my face!
Mr. H: KNOCK IT OFF.
C: I see I’m not wanted. I’ll just jump off the bed.
*5 minutes pass.*
C: Hey. Psst. Mom. Whatcha doing?
M: Pup. Get the kitty.

And so on, and so on.
Tonight, I will use more of this spray to get him to just settle down. I also plan on having some quality pre-bed kitty time, where I snuggle him and give him a good rub down. I may have been just too distracted to really give him the attention he needs.

He’s a very needy cat.

The spray will then get tested inside his cat carrier for his vet visit to get him some kitty valium to make sure Cat arrive in the Ol’ West alive and unharmed. 18 hours in a car with Cat going, “Mom, are we there yet?” will drive me f$cking insane.

Lastly, the more productive purchase was the body harness for Pup. I’m not a fan of pinch or choke collars. While I know they are effective and I have used them, I just felt there was a better option out there to maximize comfort for Pup and minimize annoyance and guilt for me. This harness may be our salvation. It hooks to a leash at the front of her body, right in the middle of the chest, instead of between her shoulders. The theory is that when you have the pull from behind her she will pull forward in response - not exactly the motion you want. By putting the pull in front of her, it sort of encourages her to turn around and stay by your side. Our test walk was a mostly a success!

I say “mostly” because when she was about to start going nuts in a puddle, I stopped the retractable leash, which put an end to her forward motion, which sort of swept out her right front leg, and which made her biff. I felt so bad, but after that, we both did much better.

Ok. I better start facing the fact that today is it, and I gotta make the most of it! Later peoples!

Hrm. I had some deep philosophical thoughts over the last 24 hours, and I carefully filed them away in my brain for today’s blog updates in that special “DO NOT LOSE” file. Then I lost the file.

But at least a bit fell out of that special file before it disappeared: I had a good time last night, that much I can remember. I went over to Skipper’s apartment to meet up with her and a sista of ours (let’s call her… Superfly). SF spoke of her impending nuptials, Skipper and I relived our years of meeting and living together. 1996 was a long time ago. Good times.

It will be a long time before I see Superfly again. I’ll miss her wedding, as I will likely miss all the weddings this year. And its sorta sucks because I haven’t missed a whole lotta weddings in my lifetime.

Gah, now I’m getting myself all down and out. So I’m going to sign off until I can pull my head outta my ass.

So Mr. H got me on this kick of having fish for lunch. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you see it, I have had fish for lunch every day for the last week or so. Tilapia mostly, but I’ve mixed in salmon today.

I’m a bit torn over my habit. On one hand, hurrah for me for eating good for you fish. On the other, boo for me for eating it too often and therefore likely elevating the permanent mercury levels in my body.

But what else shall I have for lunch? Chicken? Blech. I tire of chicken lunches. Chicken dinners, well okay then, I can handle that. In fact, we’re having chicken thighs tonight, cooked with Must Use ingredients. Like all the left over peanut butter, hot chili garlic sauce, canola oil, soy sauce, a drizzle of honey, and a sprinkle of peanuts over rice (trust me, this combination is so good, it might actually pass as Thai instead of pretend-Thai). This I can handle. But chicken every day for lunch? Again, blech.

I think I’m not much of a meat eater for the lunch hour. I have an egg or two for breakfast, and by the time lunch comes around, I want something savory and hot but most meats are just not what I want. I’m trying to think of other protein-rich foods that I can indulge in instead that aren’t a horrendous non-healthy choice. Heck, I can’t even think of horrendous non-healthy choices! Meat balls, meh. Meat loaf, meh. Turkey burger, meh. Taco meat… .hmmm, eh, possibly. But I’m thinking that maybe I should investigate my vegetarian options, like TVP or soy crumbles or beans.

A part of me is considering skipping lunch altogether (*gasp!*) or having a meal replacement shake or something instead. I love breakfast, I’m wild about dinner, but lunch doesn’t grab me. I mean, I eat breakfast so late (9 ish) that the noon hour doesn’t come with hunger pangs. I get hungry at like 2. But I always eat early. Because 11 to 1 is lunch time! And its sitting right there and its yummy… maybe if I stick to meal replacements I won’t be so gung ho about pre-eating my lunch.

Hm. A paradox. I don’t care/am not hungry for the lunch hour, and yet I eat lunch early.

Ah, its 50 degrees outside with oodles of sunshine. Hope y’all get to enjoy it!