It's a Start

Ok, how exactly does one 'run by accident'?

I went out with my daughter for our evening walk - this is usually about two miles, and Thomas and I go, with Thomas dragging Darcy in the cart behind him. Thomas, as I said earlier, has some Mongolian Death Virus, so he begged off. As he hasn't eaten but maybe 20 points in the last three days, I didn't push it. He's been wobbling in the hallway going down to the bathroom.

So, we got to the sidewalk behind the townhouses in our area, and I said to Darcy "Want to run a bit?" and she said "Oh, yeah!" So we ran. Not very far, and not very fast, but we ran for about 15 - 20 seconds, and then we walked for about a minute, and then we ran again, and then we walked.

After a bit, I started to get a bit winded, and thought we'd go ahead and take the shorter route home, but even so, I mapped it out, and it's just under a mile, and although I was tired, we continued to run and then walk all the way home.

Two things of note: 1) next time, do NOT go jogging with a roll of quarters in your pocket. 2) DO go to the bathroom FIRST.

Some Asides (And a Recipe... and maybe, just maybe, an actual post)

[I'd like to thank everyone who's dropped by in the last couple of days and left comments, support, encouragement, sympathy, and other goodies... It does help and it does mean a lot to me to find a thoughtful, helpful group of people with whom I can share this Long Walk... Ok, so being on Weight Watchers isn't quite that bad, but those people who have read the story are probably snickering right along with me. (If you haven't read it, it's scary and good and grotesque. Everything a fun read should be... I'd recommend Rage as well, but since there are some tie-ins with high school shootings, that story got yanked from publication and if you find it at all, it'll be in a used bookstore... this distresses me immensely as I am not a fan of the whole idea of 'if you don't know about it, you won't do it' cotton-eyed illusion of safety. Watching people shoot other people on TV has never made me the slightest bit more inclined to actually shoot anyone. Nor did I ever think I could jump off a cliff and survive, or any of the other 'violence in the system' shit that a great number of vocal conservatives seem to espouse. Dungeons & Dragons has not influenced me towards suicidal tendencies; my mom and my high school did that without any help from Gary Gygax.)

As a further note, when you see me talking in brackets like this [] it means I'm talking directly to you, the readers of this blog, as opposed to a generic you, which may or may not refer to anyone in specific, and rather frequently (and with bad grammatical tendencies) refers to me.]

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Lemon Souffle

I made these cakes last night for dessert and wow, they are fantastic. At three points a piece, what a bargain!

4 large egg whites
3 TBSP Splenda granular
1 TBSP granulated sugar
2 large egg yolks
1 TBSP margarine
3/4 cup Splenda granular
3/4 cup lowfat buttermilk
1/4 cup lemon juice
1 TBSP lemon peel
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp cornstarch
1/4 tsp baking powder
2 tsp granulated sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray 4 6 oz ramekins with nonstick cooking spray and place in a large baking pan at least 2 inches deep. Set aside.

In deep bowl, beat egg whites on high speed until foamy. Beat in 3 TBSP Splenda and 1 TBSP sugar until soft peaks form. In another bowl, beat egg yolks, butter, 3/4 cup Splenda until creamy. Stir in next 6 ingredients and beat until smooth. Scrape the sides of the bowl a few times. Fold in 1/4 of the egg whites and stir to incorporate. Gently fold in remaining egg whites. Divide batter among the ramekins (3/4 full). Sprinkle 1/2 tsp sugar over each cake.

Place baking dish in center rack. Pour boiling water into the baking dish until it reaches halfway up the ramekins. (this is harder than it sounds). Bake 25 - 30 minutes or until the center feels firm to the touch. There WILL BE a small pool of lemon custard at the bottom of your ramekin. This is normal. Serve with fat free whipped topping and blueberries if desired.

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So, we're at the grocery store the other day, and I apologized (again) to Thomas about being in such a bad mood. I mentioned some of the things that people have said to me (maybe I'm not eating enough because I'm working out, or whathaveyou.) He rolled his eyes at me. I think it bothers him that I don't listen to his vast store of wisdom, and that it takes extra validation from other people. (yeah, you can hear the sarcasm there...)

I said "Well, you know, that's why I haven't ever been really serious about dieting."

"Hmm?" He's stopped listening to me, looking through the $5 bin of DVDs.

"I don't diet because I'm a miserable bitch to be around while I'm dieting."

"Well, that's not exactly encouraging me to keep going to meetings. Do you think you're going to be like this for the rest of our lives?"

"I don't know. I've never tried... this, exactly. When I was pregnant with Darcy, I was miserable, but I was also stabbing myself in the stomach regularly, having to go to the doctor's twice a week, throwing up with alarming frequency and in pain. All. The. Time." He nods. This isn't anything he doesn't already know. He was - I admit - very good about my pregnancy. He went to almost all of my doctor appointments with me (except one, but he was out of town for business that week, so he can be forgiven) even when he was working night shift and not getting anywhere near enough sleep. A lot of people roll their eyes when a couple will say "We're pregnant," but it really was a team effort for us. "But I had something tangible to look forward to - a baby. And I knew that it wasn't always going to be like this. And I don't think I've been that horrid, really. Just after the meeting for a few hours."

"Um. No. You start keying up a few days before our weigh in - which is, by the way, the weekend, when I have to put up with you all day - getting all moody about it, and then you're hostile and unhappy after the meeting, and most of the next day. Just to start over again on Friday. Spouse, you're being pissed for more than half the time."

I glared at him over the bin of tomatoes. "Hmm. Must be interesting for you to see what it's like."

"What?"

"Living with someone who's stressed all the time."

Silence. It was probably a low blow, but nonetheless, true. Starting around August of last year, all the way through to the first of this year, Thomas was constantly pissed off about workshite. I think I mentioned it earlier, so I won't reiterate.

"I've been making a lot of changes this year," I continued, picking over a few sweet onions. "I'm on a food plan. We're bleeding money like crazy - can't seem to recover from the trip to Georgia -" We went to visit my mom back at Thanksgiving, and the whole trip cost about $800 for three or four days and we still haven't managed to bounce back. There's nothing in savings, and towards the end of each paycheck, we don't have any cushion left in the checking. I hate hate hate living like that. It's always when I can least afford it that the car breaks down, or someone has to go to the hospital or whatever emergency happens. I remember the days entirely too vividly when an extra 8 minutes on the clock could make the difference as to whether or not I ate meat that week. "- I'm trying to keep the house clean because you complained about it -"

"I most certainly did not..." he tries to interrupt me.

"Yes, you did." I override him. "And I'm doing it. My natural tendency is towards slobbery. I hate cleaning. It seems like no matter how much I do, I'm just doing the same fucking thing the next day."

"Well, I didn't mean it that way, exactly."

"And what way exactly did you mean it? You wanted the house clean, and I'm doing it. I hate it, but I'm doing it. I hate watching what I eat, but I'm doing it. I hate not having enough money, and I'm living with that too. Exactly how good of a mood do you expect me to be able to maintain? I am doing the best I can."

Thomas tries to lighten things up. It's probably not good for us to brawl in the grocery store. "Losers always whine about their best. Winners go home and fuck the prom queen." He does the accent with enough drama for Drury Lane, and I laugh.

"Ok, ok. But seriously, you need to cut me some slack. "

"Actually, I was thinking you need to cut yourself some slack."

Small Goal, Small Reward

Well, I have bought something for myself as a 'lost five pounds' reward.

I like to keep lists, as I've said. And my list notebooks are getting towards their very last pages. I have 15 pages left in one book and about 20 left in the other. While this will probably last me at least a month's worth of lists, I've decided to go ahead and buy a new notebook anyway.

This is the notebook's cover.

I like it because it is a nice shade of green, plus who doesn't like pirates? Also, it's got that cute iThing. Not that I'm a Mac person, but the iThing is sort of a cute marketing gimmick.

Muscle...?

A lot - and I do mean a LOT. A metric crapton, even - of people have been telling me that my workouts have probably been building muscle, and that I shouldn't worry too much about the lack of weight loss.

I've been sort of cynical about this; seriously, how much muscle can you build in a few short weeks?

I guess quite a bit, really.

I did my measurements today. Remember from last time?

I got the tape measure down a few minutes ago to try to encourage myself (Ok, who the hell am I fooling here? I got the tape measure down so that I could say "See, told you, no muscle, you're full of shit, now shut up and let me sulk, goddamnit!" Also so that I could skip today's workout and feel good to myself that I wasn't really missing anything. Yes, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm wallowing. Just a bit.) and this is what I got.

New Measurements

Right Upper Arm: 13 (loss of 1 inch)
Waist: 44 (loss of 2 inches)
Hips: 50 (loss of 2 inches)
Right Thigh: 25 (loss of 2 inches)

Now... where is that workout DVD?

The List Rules

Anyone who knows me well will probably scoff at this statement, but it is, nonetheless, true...

I am a stickler for rules.

Ok, go ahead, you can laugh. That's fine. I know the impression I give off is that I spend a lot of time breaking rules... but that's not really true. Well, not entirely. It's more like this - I like rules with authority behind them. If I can break the rules and there's no consequences, they're more like guidelines. And guidelines are very mushy.

I've also got two ways of doing things: either tell me what you want, and leave me alone to get it done, or tell me exactly what you want and how you want it done. I had this problem with an old job where the Supervisor wanted a report on breakdowns... he couldn't tell me what he actually wanted the report to look like, but the five or six I turned into him weren't it. "Nope, this is wrong." "So, how would you like me to do it, then?" "Not like this." "What about this one?" "Nope, that's no good." Argh.

But that's all beside the point...

I do make my own rules a lot. I'm okay with that. And Roleplaying books always have a line in them about "You're the GM, if you don't like these rules, change em." I take that particularly seriously. It's a rule that I can change the rules, so that's good. And it's a basic 'rule' of cooking that you try the recipe exactly the first time, but then you can start working on variations. (If you're a VERY good cook, you can work on varieties without ever tasting the original, but I wouldn't advise it.)

So, around the beginning of the year, Thomas and I had a long talk about the things in our relationship that weren't... exactly working the way we'd like them to. I've got serious issues with his anger resolution skills, and he was starting to get pissy with my lackadaisical housecleaning.

He's promised to work on his issues and I'm working on mine.

And thus was born the List.

My to-do list...

Which has certain rules that I've set for it.

• Writing the List is the first thing we will do. Before we do a single thing ON the list, we must write it down.
• The list will be NO LONGER than one page in a notebook. Writing in the margins is okay, but flipping the page is not. If there's more things than will fit on a page, it's more than 1 day's worth of work, and it won't all get done.
  (I have a thing for notebooks, by the way. If you ever don't know what to get me, a nice journal-sized notebook with an interesting cover is a great plan. I always need more notebooks... )

• There will always be one thing on the list For Me. Whether this is baking something (I love to bake) or taking a bath, or watching an episode of Firefly, or reading for an hour... It's part of my plan to Take Care of Myself.
• There will always be one thing on the list for Darcy... sitting down to play a game with her, or work on teaching her to write, or giving her a haircut.
• Anything not done (except for making dinner) by the time Thomas gets home from work will be moved to the Next Day's List.
• A task can only be moved to the Next Day three times. After that, it goes to the top of the List and must be done first.
• Every item done must be scratched off when completed.

Step in Time

I must say, I wish it weren't so freaking dark when we go to take our walks. I hate winter, and I especially hate daylight savings time. It seems dreadfully unfair that one week it's 'getting dark' at 5:30 and the next week it's Pitch Black at 5:30 (without the screaming aliens, which is good, but without Vin Diesel too, which is bad.)

There really isn't a choice, though. It took me three years to convince my husband (with his long, curly black hair) that he ought to use conditioner because rinsing it out of his hair took an extra three minutes in the shower, which meant he had to get up a whole three minutes earlier in the morning. I never met anyone who likes to sleep quite as much as Thomas. Really. He could give Sleepy Dwarf a run for his money... So, getting up before Thomas goes off to work is Right Out.

I think, though, that I ought to get a new coat. Both Thomas and I have long trench coats (black of course.) Mine is made from wool and looks more like an 1820's man's riding coat, and Thomas's is microfiber and standard 'London fog' style. Still, they're both long and black, and we're both dark-haired, so I daresay we're impossible to see until someone is upon us. Now, we do walk on the sidewalk, and the only place we cross the street is Very Well Lit, but I always make snarky comments about pedestrians who aren't wearing anything light-colored, so I ought to stop being a hypocrite.

Besides, that long coat of mine weighs like 14 pounds, and is not comfortable to take long strides in (and it's a little big on me, because I'm so damn short, that my hands don't rest easily in my pockets.)

So... I want a new coat. Something like a jacket, rather than a coat.

And while I'm at it, something a little warmer than my cute and fluffy beret.

Walk Around the Block

Well, my first walk.

I'm a little out of breath and rather overheated, but I expect that's normal. We walked a mile in about 20 minutes. From our apartment we went out to the left, over to the main road, down to the traffic light, and back onto our street. On our way we passed two joggers, a gang of sk8r bois, an abandoned pair of white Nike hightops, and an aggressive beetle which flew up the cuff of my pants. What is it with me and bugs that like to fly into my clothing?

I think the worst thing about it was that it's very chilly outside, and the house is Quite Warm, which makes for some uncomfortable transitioning. Also, I think I need new sneakers. My ladies Reebok's that I've had for like... four or five years now, I guess... seem to have an uncomfortable lump in the right hand side of the right shoe...

Note to self: buy white socks. I don't have any blisters now, but I will probably develop some. And I've heard nasty things about colored sock dye slipping into open blisters.

Note to self: figure out a way to carry a bottle of water with me that's not too uncomfortable.

Note to self: Let Thomas talk more. I talked almost the entire way, and while the walk itself wasn't too bad, the running dialog was a bit exhausting.