From the February issue of Discover magazine:
Bats with bigger testicles have smaller brains, according to research published by the U.K.'s Royal Society. No equivalent study is planned for humans.
I didn't even bother writing about my weigh-in last week because I was so disgusted with it. Despite reasonably good efforts I had only lost .4 of a pound. That made a disappointing loss of .6 for two weeks. It just felt like such a huge waste. I know I'm not supposed to be in this for the instant gratification, that I am doing this for my health but I really felt frustrated.
On Sunday I slipped into the "goal coat" that I bought when we were in Pennsylvania to remind myself why I'm on this journey. The concept of a goal coat is, I know, ridiculous and superficial. (In my defence, the Bowman women refused to leave the store until I made the purchase. I swear!) But sometimes losing weight for the simple sake of being healthy is not enough. If it takes wanting to wear a bright yellow coat to stay focussed, then fine. In actual fact the coat does fit. If "fit" is defined simply as the ability to fasten the closures, that is. Feeling comfortable in it is another matter.
I blundered through the week, not making particularly good food choices. I wondered why I bothered trying the coat on last Sunday at all. But I did put in an effort to do two things my leader suggested: I drank more water and I drank more milk.
The first thing I noticed was that my boring, black everyday winter coat was no longer bursting at the seams the way it had been in December. I then tried on my Grandma's vintage Hudson's Bay coat with the cool embroidery [which I had gotten too fat to wear]. It fit! Then the ultimate test. I tried on some smaller pants. And they fit!
I felt as though everything had really started to come together this week but as I approached the scale this afternoon I expected no better than a small percent of a pound loss. I was prepared for the worst but the scale gave up some good news: Down 2.2 to put me firmly over a 10 pound loss.
A pretty yellow coat is motivating, but nothing is as motivating as success!
I like to take vacation around this time of year because I think it makes it easier to plod through the rest of the winter. It would be nice to go somewhere warm but I find it doesn't really matter to me if I'm hanging around at home, as long as I don't have to wake up at 6 am. This year for extra fun, I booked a week of vacation to coincide with the Flyers vs. Sabres game in Buffalo that Kevin had got tickets to way back at the beginning of the season. Yay! A trip out of town! Go Flyers!
We just finished booking our room for the night of the game - a splurge since we're only spending one night in Niagara. With a view of the Horseshoe Falls and a whirlpool. Oh yes! A whirlpool!
So SeXXXy Ingrid and I went to the Bon Jovi concert on Saturday night. Now, I wasn't too sure how I felt about going since the last time I was a Bon Jovi fan was circa Slippery When Wet, which, if you are keeping track, was the year I was in grade 3. In 1985! Jesus!
Well I have to say it was an interesting crowd. 90% were women, 90% of whom were significantly older than us (and I'm not just saying that because I'm in denial about turning 30 this year). The remaining 10% of men in attendance had clearly been dragged kicking and screaming by their wives or significant others. There was one Anomaly Guy who was rocking out SO HARD that Jon Bon Jovi threw his guitar pick directly to him at the end of the set. Seriously though, he deserved something more along the lines of a filthy, sweaty towel for his efforts. I mean a pick is pretty sweet, but this guy was really rocking out.
Fortunately, a number of older songs made the playlist so all was well for my old-skool sensibilities. My eyes may have glazed over a little during the extended sequence of songs from the new album but that was only because we opted not to take the opportunity to run out for a beer or a chicken sandwich like everyone else in the ACC.
Anyway, the whole point of this is that I had been going on earlier in the evening about how I didn't really think Jon Bon Jovi was that hot anymore. I implied I'd have to be at least 20 years older to think that he had any sort of sexual appeal. But then he came out and I was forced to admit he was somewhat hot! Despite his ridiculous 80's cock-rock antics! So then he goes and kisses some girl in the crowd. Like really kisses her. Squarely, on the lips, for a good amount of time - with tongue! Oh no, there's no half-assed kissing for JBJ! We were all, "Holy shit that girl really got her money's worth!!!" I even heard some girls talking about it during my lunch break yesterday. It was a BIG DEAL.
Well this morning don't I hear on TV that JBJ kissed another girl at the show last night? What the hell? I am outraged by this! Goddamn you JBJ! We thought that was a special one-off thing, just for our concert and now we find out you run around kissing chicks willy-nilly? You like breaking girl's hearts eh?! If I hear you kiss someone tonight there's going to be hell to pay! You know who gives love a bad name? YOU do Jon Bon Jovi! Bastard!
Well after the Couch Incident we had to come up with some sort of solution to our dog's behavioural issues that didn't involve driving straight to the Humane Society and handing her over. We talked about crating but decided it was too traumatic for both her and us as her former owners had punished her in her crate. We tried to crate train her a few times when when we first got her but it was too painful. Although it's likely that we were being conned by her, she's crafty that way.
Anyway, the solution we came up with was to buy a little heater to heat our enclosed porch and leave her out there during the day while we're at work. It's working out quite well. The dog seems okay (confirmed by our lovely dog-walker) and for our part, it's so nice to walk home and not be worrying what kind of day she had. Oh yes, we had many an incident before the critical escalation to the Couch Incident.
It's also been good for the cats. I've seen some evidence that they've been out and about. Everybody's happy right? Why, you'd think the cats would be practically overjoyed with gratitude about this development! The freedom to roam - how divine! So many days had passed since the cats regained some freedom that I was beginning to think I would actually escape the wrath. But in the back of my mind I knew that my big boy Poco would eventually punish me as he has punished me so many times over the last 11 years.
Poco has always been a punishing bastard, usually punishing me for things like having the audacity to go on vacation, but this time, I think, for having the audacity to still have a dog in the house after his displeasure had clearly been made evident every single day for an entire year (today may we solemnly remember the fateful snowy drive to Pickering one year ago to adopt this cute yet psychopathic canine). Poco's chosen method of punishment is to cheerfully piss on something and create an unbearable cloud of stink. And always something that specifically belongs to me so that there can be no question as to who the punishment is directed at.
Well after a few hours out this afternoon, we came home and settled into the basement. Kev to his X-Box, I to my knitting (yes, I am a hundred years old) and there it was: The tell-tale God awful fucking stench of cat piss. Punished.
Oh may we locate the source soon.
Additionally: Weigh-In, Week Three (really week SIX but if the program shut down for two weeks over Christmas and then I had to work through my lunch last week, missing another week, do those three weeks really count?! Not according to WW, because my leader wrote in the Week Three spot in my tracker, so Week Three it is suckers!)
So I'm getting in the elevator yesterday returning to work after my Cult meeting and this well dressed man, probably in his late 50s gets in with me. I perceive him to be well-mannered as he lets me in the elevator ahead of him. He has a bag of Burger King in his hand. No big deal.
The elevator stops a few floors up and three other equally well dressed but younger (late 30s) men get in the elevator. By the chummy way they greet the older guy, with punches in the shoulders and so forth, I gather that they work at the same company. Some vapid, yet high-volumed conversation ensues. At this point, one of the younger men rips the bag of Burger King out of the older guy's hand and literally pounds it in to the elevator wall about 5 times obliterating the contents. Ha ha ha! Oh how very funny and charming! No wait! Let me get your number so I can pass it around to all my single girlfriends!
The older guy makes a half-hearted attempt at a chuckle, and says, "That was for [my assistant] Linda. She worked through her lunch. I'll let you deliver that to her and then you can go back downstairs and get her something to eat."
Very nice Dumb Fuck! Good one!
And in case you were wondering (I know you were!), I lost .2 of a pound in the last three weeks. But it was down, and it was Christmas so I'm okay with that. God damn it, Christmas only comes once a year.
Hello Friends! In this space, I was going to write about how I just got home from a hair cut and how I think perhaps finally, miraculously all the stars have aligned and Emma actually cut it short enough in the back and how life is going to be JUST FANTASTIC from now on. But, I thought it might be more interesting to show you a photo of what my dog did today:
Or: "Clean Out the Porch," part of a larger, over-arching theme for 2006 called something like, "I've Had it With All this FUCKING STUFF."
I thought about going to work today. I got up, washed my face, wandered around the house, checked the weather, then went back to bed. Just wasn't into it. My plan for the day involved nothing more strenous than hanging out and maybe watching season one of Sex and the City (which I got for Christmas). But, after slothing it up for a few hours I began to feel bored and guilty for being a bad girl so I steeled myself and plunged into a project.
My pretty bicycle has been residing in the living room since my birthday (in June!) instead of where it belongs, in the porch. The following "Before" shot will illustrate why:
That's right. Not only is there no room for the bike in this shithole we call a porch, but we cannot even access the closet to get our coats. Clearly a major overhaul was necessary if I hoped to move my bike out here. Granted, there are a few reasons this room causes us problems. Namely the fact that our house has that "charming" old Toronto trait of having no closets. Nor do we have a shed, so this room has got to work pretty hard and somehow accomodate all of our camping equipment, seasonal stuff (shovels, rakes etc.), tools, jackets, shoes and my bike. Ha ha ha! I love this house! Well, I will, when we have whittled our possessions down to a manageable size. Still, there's no excuse for the volume of sheer crap that was in this room.
Three and a half hours later, 4 bags of garbage removed, a ton of cardboard for recycling taken out, and 2 bags of donations for Goodwill loaded into the car, and here we have the decidedly less embarrassing "After" shot (Now With More Bike!):
Not perfect but SO MUCH BETTER. Among the things that had to be dealt with were two bins of stuff that belonged to my great grandmother. Before I started, I reminded myself that whatever was in these two bins was what nobody else wanted, which helped. The stuff had been in the garage at my grandmother's house for years, and then lived on my balcony at the apartment for a couple years after that, so some of the things were easy to get rid of. For example, the books. They smelled so horrible I was gagging as I shoved them into the garbage bags. How odd, someone's entire life reduced to the rubble in these two bins. Some things I wanted to keep: a pretty set of glasses, a Wedgewood platter (even with it's web of cracks), a 50th anniversary commemorative plate, a ceramic teapot my mother had made. I don't know why but it seemed so sad when I unrolled a sheet of newspaper and found inside a few bits and pieces of her flatware. I kept those too.
Out with my familia, I found this little couch for $60 (!) and adopted it. It's kind of cute in that Dear God You Paid Money For That? kind of way. But seriously, we looked at a couch very much similar in style as this at Sears and it was a lot more than sixty bux and not any better constructed. Oh, and it was too large for our tiny house and this one is just right. We are very much like Goldilocks in trying to find furniture of the correct scale for this place.
Does it look any better with the addition of a jauntily-tossed throw, pillow and dog (note Chloe's perfect form in Adho Mukha Svanasana?