the buh-blahs

Caught somewhere between a blue funk, a spiral of self-defeatest loathing, and a simple lack of putting my self first. Now, that last statement is loaded - putting myself first - but I mean that in a michelle o kind of way, as in taking excellent care of myself mind/body/spirit so as to be a more loving, energetic, capable human helping better the lives of those around her. Right? Right. Something like that, at the very least.

Because, as I so eloquently say, if given the chance to fuck myself over, I will.

All I want right now is to curl up in a ball on the couch in the sunshine, with my animals, a lot of sweets and potato chips, preferably a bottle of wine, and to marathon watch something as sophisticated as the entire twilight saga. Which is hardly a saga. Gone With the Wind is a saga. CGI giant wolves not so much.

day by freaking day, chica.

buh bye, cake

After a questionably delightful lunch of reheated leftover turkey sage meatloaf with a handful of arugula tossed on top (for, you know, vegetables), the last bit of birthday cake was demolished.

Really, only the frosting part and the wee bit of cake that abuts the frosting is the good part. Right?

SO, the harsher reality sets in, the one in which there are really no sweets in the house. Yikes.

I don't want to set completely rigid rules for myself, and thus be doomed to failure, inevitably. I'd like instead to abide by a firm guideline, so that I can choose to waver (ie, driving home from Grand Junction on Saturday, I may partake of a sweetened beverage and candy bar), but overall, for both humans' sakes, we need to kick the ass of the candy habit.

Oh cake, how I will miss you. You've sat there, quietly and patiently, ever so slowly growing more stale these past few days, each day growing smaller and smaller, yet in spite of your mediocrity managing to hit the sweet fix I need at the end of the day. Adieu.

let the sun shine

Decided; that the current alarm clock which has been the same noise for several years, having lost its power of wake-uppedness, and having ceased to result in both prompt and pleasant awakenings; we are in need of a new alarm clock.

Ideally, I'd like one that wakes you up with music (not radio, music) and/or a pleasant sound or sounds and/or ideally, increased light.

Ideally, I would also like to awaken promptly and pleasantly, and/or not drag myself up in an unpleasant state.

It would be nice to feel calm and peaceful in the morning, and for both of us to get to work on time with ease; thus, more awake time is necessary.

A harsh clanging isn't the way to pleasantness.

beware the sugar beast

Mind you, we (really, I) are (am) slowly finishing the so-so birthday cake and the last of the red wine in the house. That said, no candy, cookies, ice cream, et al were purchased at the grocery store yesterday.

The horror will likely commence about Wednesday, as:
tonight we'll finish the red wine
tomorrow night we'll finish the cake

Although, there will be something at book club Wednesday night...
but it won't be an entire bag of candy.

Hey, self? You saved $5-10 bucks by not buying "treats" yesterday. Be happy.
So, ware the sugar beast.

the craptastic countdown

Really, just because one has a birthday a few days after the first of the year, does one need to embrace a sense of right and indeed, duty, to continue to eat shit (as opposed to reluctantly climbing aboard the "New Year" green blended pseudo-food bandwagon) for days to follow, so as to fully inhabit the rights of a birthday celebration?

In other words, if I know I am going to eat cake, drink wine, and have whatever the hell I want to at the sushi place on Saturday night, then what's the point of cleaning up my diet in this first week of the new year, only to blow it all to heck on Saturday night?

Rationalization baby, it's a heck of a tool.

But that said, once again the old familiar tale of feeling tired, feeling crabby, feeling out of sorts, and generally blue and funkified all suggests that it's a quarter past high time to kick myself in the hindquarters.

Like, running. Sure, it's great I ran a 10k in December and had a blast. But, haven't run since.
Like, eating. Sure, it's great to discover that cutting out sugar and dairy and grains makes me feel better, no bloat, no gut pain, etc., but the sees chocolates just consumed don't quite fit into that schedule.

Like, get the hell on with it, self.

Why do I do this? And why do I continue to have to ask myself that question, month after month after year after decade?

It's a puzzle. Not so much the why (well, that's a puzzle at its roots, too) but the why I don't stop.

Great post today that mentioned that forming a new habit is hard work. Truth, that.

Hard work is required. But a specific goal also seems to be necessary.

So, maybe signing up for a race and taking it seriously - #1. Writing up an actual budget on paper and taking it seriously - #2. Re-re-re-re-culling the clothes and actually committing to the holes in the real and necessary wardrobe and taking it seriously - #3.

Taking yourself less seriously - #4.

Because 41 hits on the morrow. The final countdown has indeed begun. No green smoothies necessary.

and like that, it's a new year

Four hours of desk organizing last monday paid off. Still a bunch to do, but it's better.

Six or so hours of cleaning, hauling, and dropping off this monday results in - vacated apartment. Down to one address. Two years, three months, and some days and the apartment is done.

Five plus hours of file organizing yesterday paid off. Now there are organized totes of totes necessary stuff.

To a certain degree, I've oozed to fill an L shaped desk, more than I've cut back and organized, but still. Progress.

Birthday on the horizon... sushi and cake, and then a new year's transition to cleaner eating and exercise. Time to feel smokin'