7 September 1999
I'm not promising any quality, here. I've got a throbbing headache just behind my right eyebrow, and all I really want is to crawl back into bed.


That said, I actually had a pretty nice weekend. Saturday we went over to my parents' house to celebrate my mom's and brother's birthdays. Mom made Frogmore Stew, which is a summer favorite for us. (It's shrimp, sausage, corn, potatoes, and onions all boiled together and seasoned with Old Bay, then drained and dumped on a newspaper-lined table - one wears a towel as a bib and eats with one's hands. It's messy and fun.) I gave Mom the blue and tan afghan I'd made for her birthday present, and she cried.

It rained for most of the day Saturday, and all night, and when I woke up Sunday morning there was good news and bad news.

The good news was that the tree on the lot next to ours fell away from our house when it fell, and landed in the street hurting no one and nothing. Someone came out with a chainsaw sometime around nine or ten and unblocked the street.

The bad news is that apparently the window in our back door wasn't caulked properly, because enough water slipped inside to badly damage the paint job. So today I get to call our builder again and try to get it fixed.

In other house news, little tiny shoots of grass have sprung up all over our lawn, but they're so scattered that we still think the lawn will have to be re-seeded. And the dogwood tree they planted in our front yard is dead-dead-dead.


I've got to get back on my diet. I skipped two weeks' worth of Weight Watcher's meetings because of the move, and I spent those two weeks eating whatever and whenever I liked. I'm dreading going to tonight's meeting.

I've got to go back to being extremely strict, again - no more "blown" days. If I eat all my points early in the day, then I've got to have salad and broth for dinner. We're less than two months from Hallowe'en, which is less than two weeks from my birthday, which is only three weeks from Thanksgiving and Matt's birthday, and then only a month until Christmas. Which is to say, I'm only two months away from the scary time of year, weight-wise. And yet it was from mid-October through mid-February that I lost most of the weight that I've lost last year. I just have to grit my teeth and do it.


I was having conversations with imaginary people this morning.

Or rather, with real people who weren't actually present. I was ranting at my bosses about the fact that it's been over two months since I had a project worth working on, and that they don't actually listen to me when I tell them what I want to do. That it's stupid that the reason I haven't had work to do for the past two months is because they haven't announced the latest reorg yet, so I don't (officially) know who I'll be reporting to.

They didn't listen to me any better in my imaginary conversation than they did in the real ones, though.


I'm going to go have breakfast now. Maybe that will make the headache go away.