It feels like 2008 lasted FOREVER, and I still have a few more hours of work and a couple of days to get through. In 2008, I sent The Kitten to Kindergarten, started a dream job, laid on my deathbed twice, broke my toes three times, derbied across the country until I had to give up for good, and made an effort to eat better so I will never weigh more than 200 pounds (again).
I’m ignoring whatever weight I gained after spending a weekend in the “country”…you remember the country? I had to drink a couple of six packs of Bacardi Mojitos to survive. Nothing my 4:45-in-the-morning, every-other-day-because-it’s-so-damn-intense, 30-minute-calisthenic-workout-from-hell can’t fix.
I normally don’t make resolutions, but one of my friends is so gung-ho about it, she really gets me in the mood. In 2009, I’m going to enjoy the last full year of my thirties by just relaxing because I spent most of the past decade chasing dreams and The Kitten. I’m going to need the rest for my forties if the way I’m only getting better with age is any indication. Also, I think I’ve worked up the nerve to stop ignoring Twitter. I can look at it one of two ways…either I’m already breaking the relaxing resolution, or I’m going to have plenty of time to play now that I’m relaxing.
I’m not going to post about my health program for the next two weeks…I don’t have to meet with my mentor until January anyway. I’m going to try to maintain during that time, although I’m not doing so well already. I’m going to have a merry Christmas regardless.
The Kitten and I spend a lot of time laughing. One of the things we have enjoyed lately is this:
And by enjoy, I mean we walk around acting like chickens. For some reason, it reminds me of when a bunch of crazy people I call friends dared my best friend to put a pickle under her arm, ride a skateboard across the rink at Tradewinds, and scream “I’m a chicken” at the top of her lungs, all at the same time.
Here’s to you, Staci, for not giving up on your dream. May the rest of your days be filled with laughter like the kind The Kitten and I share. Someday soon all of us “kids” will act like chickens together.
This may not make sense to anybody but me, but what do you expect from someone who encourages her daugther to emulate tv commercials?
You might have noticed a new link on Catazonia. (Yeah right, nobody reads this blog regularly.) I have finally gathered the LOLCATazons that I have created over the past year or so. (Oh yay, she’s perpetuating a tired, old meme.) Some you may have seen here before; some have been floating around in other areas of the interwebs. (And your Myspace page sucks, too.) Enjoy! (Meh.)
I am sick and tired of worrying about food, and I’m not even halfway through this health program. I don’t even have anything to say about it, except…I have to bake a cake for a friend’s birthday party this Friday night, and I am going to lick both the beaters and the bowl completely dry. Ok, maybe The Kitten can have one beater, but she better step on back.
Catazon’s Week 5 of the Cardiovascular Health Program
Weight = 188
Anxiety Level = 2 (This is going to be a long week…waiting for a little nibble of batter.)
I didn’t check in with my mentor on my health program this past week, so it’s kinda like it didn’t exist. Therefore, I will ignore the fact that I didn’t lose any weight, and believe that this week will have better results or at least get me back down to where I was in week two.
It’s been five days since my last taste of frosty adult beverage, and I have worked out twice in the past 24 hours. That’s a good start. Unfortunately, I have a rodeo meeting (drinks!) on Tuesday, a holiday dinner (drinks!) on Wednesday, a band concert (damn, no drinks!) on Thursday, and a company Christmas party (Yaaay, drinks!) on Saturday. I wish I could live on a liquid diet.
Catazon’s Week 4 of the Cardiovascular Health Program
Weight = somewhere around 190 (I think)
Anxiety Level = 8 (…and I think I might be getting a cold.)
This is just a shock to me. I was in the Compaq Center for their championship games…even drove from Austin to support my hometown team (and you’re lucky I didn’t say The Summit instead of Compaq Center because I saw my first concert there back in the early ’80s). When my daughter was old enough, I wanted to show her yet another reason why she can be anything she wants to be.
This does not bode well for women’s sports in general…let alone the perpetuation of the problems with Houston sports teams. What the hell is wrong with this place?
I’m not doing that well on the health kick. Sure, I did a great job on the holiDAY and had a wonderful broccoli slaw tossed with cranberries, apples, and a mustard seed vinaigrette instead of sweet potatoes and cheesy casseroles, but I went crazy the day after and drank my own weight in vodka and cider and some hard cream thing that was calling my name. I blame the tipsiness on my inability to keep the enchiladas out of my mouth on the way home from the Renaissance. The weigh-in on Week 4 is not going to be as pretty as Week 3, unless…
I can keep getting up at 4:45 every morning to feel the burn from this awesome calisthenic workout I found. It would be perfect for the last thirty minutes of a derby practice if I was still in charge of making whiny women hate me.
Catazon’s Week 3 of the Cardiovascular Health Program
Weight = 188.4
Anxiety Level = 5 (work is crazy this week and may drive me to drinking again!)
