Matt and I actually went to water aerobics last night for the first time in two weeks - Nancy is finally over her flu. Yike. The timer on the fresh water pump was broken or something, and it wouldn't shut off. It had been running for an hour before we got in the pool, and continued running for our entire class. And the fresh water spout spits out water at about 70 degrees, which is to say way too cold for pool water! Especially when it's only 30 degrees outside! The thing was, the water on the opposite side of the pool from the pump was still sortof warm. And there were little pockets of warm water near the pump, too. Weird. If I could've mapped the water temperatures, I could've done an impressive study of fluid dynamics.
But I couldn't, so I gasped and whined every time I hit a cold pocket, and after class I bee-lined through the freezing locker room (it's chilly in there even when I'm not wet - fresh out of the pool, it's unbearable) to the sauna. This is a tactic I came up with a couple of months ago when it became obvious that I was never going to get used to it. I stick my underclothes in my gym bag with my towel and lug the gym back poolside with me. Then I don't even have to stop at the locker before I dive into the sauna. Then I dry off and get half-dressed in there. By the time I've toweled off, put on my bra and underwear, and put lotion on various body parts that dry out too fast because of the chlorine, I'm warm enough to face the rest of the locker room again.
Yeah, I know, I'm a big baby.
Ooooooooohhhh.... Jeremy just downloaded the new Star Wars trailer. Jeremy finagled a new speaker set out of our network administrator a few weeks ago, so I stood right behind his chair and we watched it in surround sound. Gods, I am so psyched about this movie! I just cannot wait! Two whole months...
When they re-released the original trilogy with the upgraded special effects, a bunch of my friends met at a friend's house in Portsmouth for pre-show parties before descending on the theater en masse. We'll be doing the same thing for this movie.
Okay. Enough of that. Jeez, I just ate breakfast an hour ago; how can I be hungry again already? Guess I'll go read a book or something to try to take my mind off it...
Thursday, March 11, 1999
Wednesday, March 10, 1999
Archive - 10 March 1999
So I thought I'd try to write in my journal every day, and not just whenever the mood strikes. I'd like to get into the habit of writing every day, even when I don't think I have anything to say. Well into my high school years, I wanted to be a writer. I know now that I probably never will be - I'm just not that good at devising plots, and my characters aren't very memorable. But maybe writing every day will help. Or maybe not, and I'll just make a few avid journal-readers happy with regular posts. Or maybe my dedication will peter out and fade like it so frequently does.
This morning when the alarm went off, I couldn't drag myself out of bed. When Matt's alarm went off, I cursed, muttered, grumbled, and dragged myself up to let the cat in and feed him. Then I went back to bed. Matt asked, "Did you do your exercises?"
Well, no, I hadn't. And I hadn't done them yesterday morning, either. That didn't last very long, did it? I just have to face the fact that getting up early in the morning isn't going to work for me, and find some better time to exercise. (If the company would just sign up with the gym for corporate sponsorship, I think I *might* manage to go at lunch or after work.) Ah, hell, who am I kidding?
I got my 20-pound star at Weight Watchers last night, though! Yay, me! Matt and I are trying to think of something to use as a reward for significant milestones. Dinner out at a nice restaurant is just counterproductive, and I have a tendency to indulge myself with non-food desires (like new books or clothes) as soon as they occur to me. Flowers? Or maybe I'll call the physical therapist and treat myself to an hour-long massage, mmm. If you have any ideas, by all means, let me know!
So while I was at Weight Watchers last night, I bought myself a mug. It holds - oh, I dunno. Three or four cups. It's a sexy glossy black, and has a straw (which was important, because for some reason I like water if I have to suck it out of its container. Keep that thought to yourself). Anyway... I was reasonably happy with it, though some testing over my sink last night revealed that while the lid itself is watertight, the little caps over the drinking and straw holes are not. Good thing I found out early, huh?
This morning, I had the mug about half-full of water, and along with my lunchbox and a book to read and my purse, I put it in the car as I was going to work. Everything else went into the backseat, as usual, except for the mug. Since it had water in it that could be spilled, I put it in the empty passenger seat next to me so I could keep and eye on it. When I got to work, I reached to pick it up and discovered that at some point - don't as me when - it had tipped over, spilling a good half a cup or more of water. The seat was soaked. I managed to scoop most of it out the door with my hands, but it's pretty durn cold here this morning, so I wasn't happy about it. So much for keeping an eye on it! I guess I'll just leave the mug here at the office (this is where I do most of my water drinking anyway) and maybe next week I'll get myself a mug for home. Maybe not, though...
Oh, I forgot, Monday, to give everyone a link to the circus's webpage, so here it is.
I've got a new favorite recipe: Chicken with Caramelized Onion. Wow. It's fantastic. Tons of flavor, very low-cal/low-fat. It takes about half an hour to make, but it's pretty easy; all I have to do for the half-hour is stand there and stir, and occasionally add something. I'm trying to figure out how I could make it in advance and take it with me to games - if I had a plate of this stuff, I wouldn't care if everyone else was eating fast food! Maybe if I left the chicken just slightly undercooked, it would just finish cooking instead of getting tough when I reheated it... Can you tell I like it? I think I'd be happy eating this several times a week. Matt likes it, too, but not as much as I do - it's got a lot of vinegar in it, and Matt isn't as big a fan of onions as I am. If you'd like the recipe, though, e-mail me and I'll be happy to give it to you.
This morning when the alarm went off, I couldn't drag myself out of bed. When Matt's alarm went off, I cursed, muttered, grumbled, and dragged myself up to let the cat in and feed him. Then I went back to bed. Matt asked, "Did you do your exercises?"
Well, no, I hadn't. And I hadn't done them yesterday morning, either. That didn't last very long, did it? I just have to face the fact that getting up early in the morning isn't going to work for me, and find some better time to exercise. (If the company would just sign up with the gym for corporate sponsorship, I think I *might* manage to go at lunch or after work.) Ah, hell, who am I kidding?
I got my 20-pound star at Weight Watchers last night, though! Yay, me! Matt and I are trying to think of something to use as a reward for significant milestones. Dinner out at a nice restaurant is just counterproductive, and I have a tendency to indulge myself with non-food desires (like new books or clothes) as soon as they occur to me. Flowers? Or maybe I'll call the physical therapist and treat myself to an hour-long massage, mmm. If you have any ideas, by all means, let me know!
So while I was at Weight Watchers last night, I bought myself a mug. It holds - oh, I dunno. Three or four cups. It's a sexy glossy black, and has a straw (which was important, because for some reason I like water if I have to suck it out of its container. Keep that thought to yourself). Anyway... I was reasonably happy with it, though some testing over my sink last night revealed that while the lid itself is watertight, the little caps over the drinking and straw holes are not. Good thing I found out early, huh?
This morning, I had the mug about half-full of water, and along with my lunchbox and a book to read and my purse, I put it in the car as I was going to work. Everything else went into the backseat, as usual, except for the mug. Since it had water in it that could be spilled, I put it in the empty passenger seat next to me so I could keep and eye on it. When I got to work, I reached to pick it up and discovered that at some point - don't as me when - it had tipped over, spilling a good half a cup or more of water. The seat was soaked. I managed to scoop most of it out the door with my hands, but it's pretty durn cold here this morning, so I wasn't happy about it. So much for keeping an eye on it! I guess I'll just leave the mug here at the office (this is where I do most of my water drinking anyway) and maybe next week I'll get myself a mug for home. Maybe not, though...
Oh, I forgot, Monday, to give everyone a link to the circus's webpage, so here it is.
I've got a new favorite recipe: Chicken with Caramelized Onion. Wow. It's fantastic. Tons of flavor, very low-cal/low-fat. It takes about half an hour to make, but it's pretty easy; all I have to do for the half-hour is stand there and stir, and occasionally add something. I'm trying to figure out how I could make it in advance and take it with me to games - if I had a plate of this stuff, I wouldn't care if everyone else was eating fast food! Maybe if I left the chicken just slightly undercooked, it would just finish cooking instead of getting tough when I reheated it... Can you tell I like it? I think I'd be happy eating this several times a week. Matt likes it, too, but not as much as I do - it's got a lot of vinegar in it, and Matt isn't as big a fan of onions as I am. If you'd like the recipe, though, e-mail me and I'll be happy to give it to you.
Monday, March 8, 1999
Archive - 8 March 1999
I had such an awesome weekend! Let me tell you about it!
Friday evening Matt and I decided not to go to water aerobics when it turned out that the regular teacher was still out, and the drill sergeant still subbing. (See this page for Matt's summation of the sub.) Anyway, not having to go to class made us both a little happier. I tried a new recipe for dinner that turned out reasonably well, despite having to substitute chicken for veal at the last minute (the veal had spoiled). And when I added up the points, I still had to eat quite a few more calories to make the minimum for my day. I love that - I get to eat junkfood or candy and loudly proclaim, "I'm just following my diet!"
So I made meringue kisses. Easiest recipe in the world, and the resulting cookies/candies are fantastic - crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside, and the whole thing melts in your mouth. Just amazing. In fact, I wound up making two batches, and we munched on them all weekend long. I'll have to remember that recipe for relatively low-calorie treats. (It's just egg whites and sugar, really, but the egg whites spread the sugar out so well that seven kisses is only two points.)
Saturday, my parents came over around 1:30, and we took them over to see the model of the house we're having built, and to look at our lot. My mom hadn't seen anything but floorplans yet, so she was very excited. They both approved, and came up with a number of ideas. Dad wants to come over and check up on the builders every couple of days when they start the building. Matt and I won't argue - Dad knows a lot more about building houses than we do!
After that, we went over to my parents' house for an hour or so and it was very nice to just sit and talk for a while. Then we went out for dinner to the Country Inn, which was a great little ribs joint. Then we were off to the circus!
We got to the Hampton Coliseum about 6:30, an hour before the beginning of the show. Dad picked up the tickets he'd reserved only a minute or two before the doors were opened. Our seats were off to one side, near Ring 1, but at a very nice height. Before the show, they had some hands-on exhibits for the kids - a few animals to pet, clowns doing juggling and tricks, plate spinners, that sort of thing. You had to pay extra to go down onto the floor, but we could see everything we were really interested in (i.e., the juggling and acrobatics) from our seats. The show started promptly at 7:30, and it was fantastic! We bought drinks and popcorn and cotton candy and a stuffed animal, and came home broke, but it was a load of fun. One animal trainer actually had trained housecats. I couldn't get enough. The time flew, and when they went into the closing number, I was positive that it hadn't been anywhere near long enough yet...
Sunday I slept in late, we did the laundry, and then we went over to KT and Kevin's to play Alternity. That was a fun session. Almost all of us died. And we accidentally let the dimension door open, though I'm not sure if that was going to happen anyway... But now there's a big mess our party has to fix, or my character's butt is going to be fired!
All in all, a really good weekend, though it wasn't long enough (they never are, I suppose) and Matt is complaining this morning that his shoulders hurt even though we have no idea what he could have done to them.
Anyway, I thought you'd like to see a post from me that isn't whiney for once! Have a great day!
Friday evening Matt and I decided not to go to water aerobics when it turned out that the regular teacher was still out, and the drill sergeant still subbing. (See this page for Matt's summation of the sub.) Anyway, not having to go to class made us both a little happier. I tried a new recipe for dinner that turned out reasonably well, despite having to substitute chicken for veal at the last minute (the veal had spoiled). And when I added up the points, I still had to eat quite a few more calories to make the minimum for my day. I love that - I get to eat junkfood or candy and loudly proclaim, "I'm just following my diet!"
So I made meringue kisses. Easiest recipe in the world, and the resulting cookies/candies are fantastic - crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside, and the whole thing melts in your mouth. Just amazing. In fact, I wound up making two batches, and we munched on them all weekend long. I'll have to remember that recipe for relatively low-calorie treats. (It's just egg whites and sugar, really, but the egg whites spread the sugar out so well that seven kisses is only two points.)
Saturday, my parents came over around 1:30, and we took them over to see the model of the house we're having built, and to look at our lot. My mom hadn't seen anything but floorplans yet, so she was very excited. They both approved, and came up with a number of ideas. Dad wants to come over and check up on the builders every couple of days when they start the building. Matt and I won't argue - Dad knows a lot more about building houses than we do!
After that, we went over to my parents' house for an hour or so and it was very nice to just sit and talk for a while. Then we went out for dinner to the Country Inn, which was a great little ribs joint. Then we were off to the circus!
We got to the Hampton Coliseum about 6:30, an hour before the beginning of the show. Dad picked up the tickets he'd reserved only a minute or two before the doors were opened. Our seats were off to one side, near Ring 1, but at a very nice height. Before the show, they had some hands-on exhibits for the kids - a few animals to pet, clowns doing juggling and tricks, plate spinners, that sort of thing. You had to pay extra to go down onto the floor, but we could see everything we were really interested in (i.e., the juggling and acrobatics) from our seats. The show started promptly at 7:30, and it was fantastic! We bought drinks and popcorn and cotton candy and a stuffed animal, and came home broke, but it was a load of fun. One animal trainer actually had trained housecats. I couldn't get enough. The time flew, and when they went into the closing number, I was positive that it hadn't been anywhere near long enough yet...
Sunday I slept in late, we did the laundry, and then we went over to KT and Kevin's to play Alternity. That was a fun session. Almost all of us died. And we accidentally let the dimension door open, though I'm not sure if that was going to happen anyway... But now there's a big mess our party has to fix, or my character's butt is going to be fired!
All in all, a really good weekend, though it wasn't long enough (they never are, I suppose) and Matt is complaining this morning that his shoulders hurt even though we have no idea what he could have done to them.
Anyway, I thought you'd like to see a post from me that isn't whiney for once! Have a great day!
Friday, March 5, 1999
Archive - 5 March 1999
I want a doughnut. I could even have one if I wanted - someone left a few in the drink cooler in the kitchen, and they've been there for three days, which means they're probably public domain. But I'm trying to be good. And if I'm going to go off the wagon, so to speak, it's not going to be for a three-day-old cold doughnut anyway. I owe that much to myself, at least. If I'm going to go off my diet and get fatter, it might as well be for a fresh doughnut, don't you think?
I could have sworn, this morning driving to work, that I smelled bacon, and I wanted that, too. ::sigh:: I'm glad it's Friday. There's something about being bored at work that makes me want to eat. Heck, there's something about being bored anywhere that makes me want to eat. But I just got a shipment from Quality Paperbacks yesterday, so I probably won't be bored this weekend.
Not that I was going to be bored anyway. The current plan is for my parents to meet us tomorrow so my mom can see the house, and then we're all going to go to the circus. I can't wait - I haven't been to the circus since I was, oh, ten, maybe? I'm a little worried that I'm remembering it different than it actually was, but maybe not. I do remember thinking that they had way too many musical numbers and that I wished they would just get on with the tricks. But maybe as an adult (or at least, a grown-up) I'll be able to appreciate the dancing or whatnot more. When I was a kid, all I wanted to see were clowns and acrobats. We sometimes snuck in big bags of home-made popcorn to munch on, and we invariably came home with cheaply-made (as opposed to cheaply-bought) clown makeup kits - the same kind of thing you can get around Hallowe'en for three or four bucks. It occurs to me that for the first time ever, I'll be at the circus and in control of my own money. (Or at least, enough money to matter. I got thirty-five cents a week when I was ten, and that only if I remembered to ask for it.) I wonder if I'll buy more junk because I can, or less because I'll actually be able to comprehend how overpriced it is?
Doesn't matter; I'm sure I'll have a blast anyway. This morning, Matt and I heard a spot on the radio telling families to bring their kids an hour early for special kid's time - meet the clowns, look at the animals, learn to juggle, that kind of thing. We both looked at each other with this sort of "I wish I could do that" thought shining behind our eyes.
Don't you think people forget what it's like to be a kid? I'm sure I have. Or rather, as people get older, they realize just how trivial kid's concerns are. Every now and then I'll hear someone wish that they could be a child again. Not me. Or rather - I'd love to be a child again, but only if I could keep all of the knowledge and perspective I've gained as an adult. Then, it wouldn't matter if the other kids didn't like me, because I'd know how little it mattered. I'd know how much to appreciate people and places that I didn't know I'd never see again. I'd know the secret to making friends with the other kids, and I'd know to go ahead and take some of the risks I always avoided. I'd actually notice occasionally when guys were flirting with me, and when people who claimed to be my friends were talking about me behind my back. I'd know better than to stay with that guy who was so bad for my self-esteem, and I'd go ahead and go out with the guy who just wanted to have a fun time even though I knew nothing long-term could ever come out of it. (Okay, I'm getting into college here, and you'd think I'd have known better by then, and I'd better shut up because some of these people probably look at this website every now and then.)
But to go back to being a child, truly? Never. Not in a million years. I only got happier as I got older. I was a shy kid, a bit of a nerd, and something of a pariah in elementary school. When I moved from private to public school, a lot of that changed, but I was still too shy for my own good. I never had good comebacks in junior high school, when a quick wit is the only survival mechanism. Things picked up in high school, when I'd acquired a group of friends who I really knew were my friends. College was even better, though there were several things I wish I'd done differently. Grad school wasn't much fun, but it was great when I finally came home. But right now is probably one of the best times of my life. I'm married to a fantastic man; I am wonderfully blessed with friends; I'm on good terms with my entire family - and that includes my in-laws; and I have a well-paying job.
When I think of all of the wonderful things in my life, it seems very petty to actually be so concerned with my appearance. But I guess I want people to see Matt and I together and think, Don't they look like a wonderful couple? Look how pretty she is when she laughs. I'm convinced that what they're really thinking is, Look how fat she is! I wonder what he sees in her? Maybe she got fat after they got married. Isn't it a shame when that happens? A girl gets herself a good man and stops taking care of herself. It's good of him to stay with her. And of course, what other people think really doesn't matter in the slightest... But then, it does. I don't know why, but it does.
So that's why, in spite of being happy with my life and content with myself, I'm not going to have a damn doughnut.
I could have sworn, this morning driving to work, that I smelled bacon, and I wanted that, too. ::sigh:: I'm glad it's Friday. There's something about being bored at work that makes me want to eat. Heck, there's something about being bored anywhere that makes me want to eat. But I just got a shipment from Quality Paperbacks yesterday, so I probably won't be bored this weekend.
Not that I was going to be bored anyway. The current plan is for my parents to meet us tomorrow so my mom can see the house, and then we're all going to go to the circus. I can't wait - I haven't been to the circus since I was, oh, ten, maybe? I'm a little worried that I'm remembering it different than it actually was, but maybe not. I do remember thinking that they had way too many musical numbers and that I wished they would just get on with the tricks. But maybe as an adult (or at least, a grown-up) I'll be able to appreciate the dancing or whatnot more. When I was a kid, all I wanted to see were clowns and acrobats. We sometimes snuck in big bags of home-made popcorn to munch on, and we invariably came home with cheaply-made (as opposed to cheaply-bought) clown makeup kits - the same kind of thing you can get around Hallowe'en for three or four bucks. It occurs to me that for the first time ever, I'll be at the circus and in control of my own money. (Or at least, enough money to matter. I got thirty-five cents a week when I was ten, and that only if I remembered to ask for it.) I wonder if I'll buy more junk because I can, or less because I'll actually be able to comprehend how overpriced it is?
Doesn't matter; I'm sure I'll have a blast anyway. This morning, Matt and I heard a spot on the radio telling families to bring their kids an hour early for special kid's time - meet the clowns, look at the animals, learn to juggle, that kind of thing. We both looked at each other with this sort of "I wish I could do that" thought shining behind our eyes.
Don't you think people forget what it's like to be a kid? I'm sure I have. Or rather, as people get older, they realize just how trivial kid's concerns are. Every now and then I'll hear someone wish that they could be a child again. Not me. Or rather - I'd love to be a child again, but only if I could keep all of the knowledge and perspective I've gained as an adult. Then, it wouldn't matter if the other kids didn't like me, because I'd know how little it mattered. I'd know how much to appreciate people and places that I didn't know I'd never see again. I'd know the secret to making friends with the other kids, and I'd know to go ahead and take some of the risks I always avoided. I'd actually notice occasionally when guys were flirting with me, and when people who claimed to be my friends were talking about me behind my back. I'd know better than to stay with that guy who was so bad for my self-esteem, and I'd go ahead and go out with the guy who just wanted to have a fun time even though I knew nothing long-term could ever come out of it. (Okay, I'm getting into college here, and you'd think I'd have known better by then, and I'd better shut up because some of these people probably look at this website every now and then.)
But to go back to being a child, truly? Never. Not in a million years. I only got happier as I got older. I was a shy kid, a bit of a nerd, and something of a pariah in elementary school. When I moved from private to public school, a lot of that changed, but I was still too shy for my own good. I never had good comebacks in junior high school, when a quick wit is the only survival mechanism. Things picked up in high school, when I'd acquired a group of friends who I really knew were my friends. College was even better, though there were several things I wish I'd done differently. Grad school wasn't much fun, but it was great when I finally came home. But right now is probably one of the best times of my life. I'm married to a fantastic man; I am wonderfully blessed with friends; I'm on good terms with my entire family - and that includes my in-laws; and I have a well-paying job.
When I think of all of the wonderful things in my life, it seems very petty to actually be so concerned with my appearance. But I guess I want people to see Matt and I together and think, Don't they look like a wonderful couple? Look how pretty she is when she laughs. I'm convinced that what they're really thinking is, Look how fat she is! I wonder what he sees in her? Maybe she got fat after they got married. Isn't it a shame when that happens? A girl gets herself a good man and stops taking care of herself. It's good of him to stay with her. And of course, what other people think really doesn't matter in the slightest... But then, it does. I don't know why, but it does.
So that's why, in spite of being happy with my life and content with myself, I'm not going to have a damn doughnut.
Thursday, March 4, 1999
Archive - 4 March 1999
Last night we had a terrific storm. Lots of wind and heavy rain. I love thunderstorms. We lost power for a little over an hour. I had been making soup to eat later this week, and when I was done with the soup, I was going to make dinner. But just as I was putting the lid on the soup so it could simmer for a while, the power went out. So I had soup for dinner.
The cat woke me up at three this morning. It gets earlier every morning, I swear. Soon, we'll just be putting him outside before we go to bed. But then I might sleep through the night, and I'm sure there's something illegal about that. Anyway, when the cat woke me up at three, I could still hear the wind in the trees behind the apartment, and it sounded like the storm was still in full swing. So I told His Lordship that he really didn't want to go outside. His Lordship disagreed. I tried until five to ignore him, but he really wanted me to get up. So I lost two hours of sleep. Only to find out, when I finally tossed him out, that there was no rain along with the wind, so I could have gotten him out at three and gotten plenty of sleep. (sigh)
All of that leads up to this: I have really vivid dreams when I'm not getting enough sleep. This morning I dreamed that I was sitting in a lecture hall with a bunch of people, some of whom were my friends. And almost everyone there had a stuffed animal or toy with them. Two seats down from me, on the other side of my friend Richard, was a guy I didn't know holding a giant rubber spider.
Background: I hate spiders. My feelings about them verge on phobia. I don't mind a little verbal teasing on this account - I recognize that it's completely irrational on my part - but I do not make friends with the sort of people who might think it was funny to confront me with a spider, real or otherwise. I once decked my brother for showing me a picture of one in a magazine without warning, and then I locked myself in my room and had a hysterical fit for a while. The ability to control the reaction long enough to get rid of the spider first is all that keeps it from being a real phobia.
Anyway, this giant rubber spider wasn't one of those two-fist-sized ones that look almost real. This was the size of the guy's torso, and looked sortof like a balloon. In fact, this exact same giant rubber spider had featured in another dream earlier, only this time it looked like the color had faded. A lot. In short, it was like my brain was trying to tell me, This is not a real spider. Do not be alarmed.
I was pretty cool with it - only slightly widged out. Then this guy starts sortof playing with it; making it "crawl" on my friend Richard. I say something like, "Just keep that thing away from me!" Richard then grabs my arm and holds it out so the fake spider can be made to crawl on it. (Just a note here: Richard is afraid of roaches. True phobia. Treatment failed. He has drawn guns on them. So he knows how it is. In real life, he would never, ever do something like that to me. He'd probably have a few strong words with someone who tried it. So I don't want anyone writing him nasty e-mail along the lines of "How could you?")
Anyway, I reacted in the dream the same way I probably would in real life - I yanked my arm free from Richard's grasp, and then proceeded to hit him with it. And then I woke up.
Let's cut, now, to the dream Matt was having at the exact same time. Matt was dreaming that he was walking around in the snow with several people, including his sister, Rachael. How the subject came up, Matt couldn't remember, but Rachael told him, "But everyone loves children!"
Background time again. Matt and I are not currently interested in having children. Our parents and grandparents have been remarkably good about not pestering us, but we can tell they want us to change our minds. And we eventually may. But not anytime soon.
So Matt responds to his sister's remark with some wiseass comment like, "Sure. Liz and I actually have six kids; we just don't bring them out because they're such snots."
...And that's when I hit him in the stomach.
The cat woke me up at three this morning. It gets earlier every morning, I swear. Soon, we'll just be putting him outside before we go to bed. But then I might sleep through the night, and I'm sure there's something illegal about that. Anyway, when the cat woke me up at three, I could still hear the wind in the trees behind the apartment, and it sounded like the storm was still in full swing. So I told His Lordship that he really didn't want to go outside. His Lordship disagreed. I tried until five to ignore him, but he really wanted me to get up. So I lost two hours of sleep. Only to find out, when I finally tossed him out, that there was no rain along with the wind, so I could have gotten him out at three and gotten plenty of sleep. (sigh)
All of that leads up to this: I have really vivid dreams when I'm not getting enough sleep. This morning I dreamed that I was sitting in a lecture hall with a bunch of people, some of whom were my friends. And almost everyone there had a stuffed animal or toy with them. Two seats down from me, on the other side of my friend Richard, was a guy I didn't know holding a giant rubber spider.
Background: I hate spiders. My feelings about them verge on phobia. I don't mind a little verbal teasing on this account - I recognize that it's completely irrational on my part - but I do not make friends with the sort of people who might think it was funny to confront me with a spider, real or otherwise. I once decked my brother for showing me a picture of one in a magazine without warning, and then I locked myself in my room and had a hysterical fit for a while. The ability to control the reaction long enough to get rid of the spider first is all that keeps it from being a real phobia.
Anyway, this giant rubber spider wasn't one of those two-fist-sized ones that look almost real. This was the size of the guy's torso, and looked sortof like a balloon. In fact, this exact same giant rubber spider had featured in another dream earlier, only this time it looked like the color had faded. A lot. In short, it was like my brain was trying to tell me, This is not a real spider. Do not be alarmed.
I was pretty cool with it - only slightly widged out. Then this guy starts sortof playing with it; making it "crawl" on my friend Richard. I say something like, "Just keep that thing away from me!" Richard then grabs my arm and holds it out so the fake spider can be made to crawl on it. (Just a note here: Richard is afraid of roaches. True phobia. Treatment failed. He has drawn guns on them. So he knows how it is. In real life, he would never, ever do something like that to me. He'd probably have a few strong words with someone who tried it. So I don't want anyone writing him nasty e-mail along the lines of "How could you?")
Anyway, I reacted in the dream the same way I probably would in real life - I yanked my arm free from Richard's grasp, and then proceeded to hit him with it. And then I woke up.
Let's cut, now, to the dream Matt was having at the exact same time. Matt was dreaming that he was walking around in the snow with several people, including his sister, Rachael. How the subject came up, Matt couldn't remember, but Rachael told him, "But everyone loves children!"
Background time again. Matt and I are not currently interested in having children. Our parents and grandparents have been remarkably good about not pestering us, but we can tell they want us to change our minds. And we eventually may. But not anytime soon.
So Matt responds to his sister's remark with some wiseass comment like, "Sure. Liz and I actually have six kids; we just don't bring them out because they're such snots."
...And that's when I hit him in the stomach.
Monday, March 1, 1999
Archive - 1 March 1999
Well, it's March now. I'm not doing much of anything today because I'm waiting to find out whether the module I wrote has any bugs in it, and the guy I gave it to for testing probably won't get around to it until about Thursday. So I'm just sitting here working on my webpage today. Actually, I just sat around working on my webpage last Friday, too. I didn't get up a journal entry because I was so busy with the rest of the page. Some of what I changed is behind-the-scenes stuff that won't make any difference to readers. But I added a bunch of pictures. Pictures are good, right?
Had a good weekend. We skipped water aerobics on Friday to go to the GreenLeafe with a bunch of people from the office. (The Leafe is a local bar - excuse me, restaurant that serves alcohol. (Bars are illegal in VA.) It's not the most popular alcohol-serving restaurant in the area, because their prices are a little steep for the college students who make up the majority of drinkers in the area. (The Leafe serves a lot of specialty beers, whereas the Delis serve whatever's cheap this week.) But it was fun. We had dinner there and sat drinking until about 8 or so, and then Jeremy and Matt decided they had to look in on the college's Tech Support (the Leafe is across the street from William and Mary's campus). So the four of us (including Jeremy's girlfriend Elizabeth) tromped over to the campus. My bad foot was bothering me, so I went and flopped in the University Center for half an hour while they wandered around.
Saturday we puttered around running errands in the morning. I bought myself a new color printer last weekend - I'd been meaning to get one since before Christmas, but decided to hold off. So anyway, I bought one finally last weekend, and I thought it would be great if I could get some index cards and print out the recipes we actually use, and then we wouldn't have as many cookbooks cluttering up the kitchen. So we went to Staples. What I had in mind was the specialty stuff that Avery makes. When I finally found it, I was astonished to learn that the Avery stuff was like $15 for only 150 note cards. Regular plain index cards were only $3.50 for 500 of them, so I got those and decided for that much savings, I could blow as many as I needed to, to get the settings right. And it only took me about four tries to get everything lined up the way I wanted it.
Since I got the new printer, though, I spent more time wandering around Staples. Here's something funny for you: I hardly ever print anything, really. The occasional letter, or a shopping list, or a budget. But since I just got the brand-new color printer I was lingering over all the novelty paper like a kid in a candy shop. I kept having conversations with myself:
Sunday after we did the chores (Sunday is laundry and grocery day) we swung by my folks' house to visit with my dad a little bit and then headed down to KT and Kevin's place for the Alternity game. That was fun, especially after the Twerp left and Richard and Carl showed up. I'd forgotten what it was like to game with them. We had a blast. I even stayed until ten, which broke the rule I had set right at the beginning that I would not stay later than nine. (I get cranky if I don't get eight hours of sleep a night, but it was so great to see Rick and Carl...)
But I blew my diet again. I thought I'd reserved enough points for dinner, and wound up blowing it anyway by having two McD's hamburgers and two side salads. ::sigh:: Matt and I talked about it on the way home, and we decided that from now on, we'll bring our own dinner to the games. I just can not stick to my diet if we're going to be having fast food and pizza every gaming session. So I'll start bringing a can of soup or something. Maybe that chicken and caramelized onion recipe I picked up, since I like onions so much. And I'm going to try to get up every morning as soon as the alarm goes off and do some exercise. I'm starting with just five minutes, and I won't be counting repetitions or anything - just doing situps or leglifts or pushups or arm curls until the timer goes off. And then every other day or maybe once a week, I'll increase the time by thirty seconds, until I'm up to maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. I know, I've made plans like this before. But I've really got to take control, or even after I lose all the weight I want to lose, I'll just be this flabby skin hanging off my skeleton, and I really won't be any better looking than now.
KT's so together about it. She seems to have finally made peace with her body, and now being overweight doesn't seem to bother her in the slightest. It seems like, for her, she wants to be more healthy, but couldn't care less about her figure. I wish I could manage that - it seems like a more emotionally healthy outlook - but I just look down at my stomach and think about how gross it looks. It doesn't seem to matter that my cholesterol and blood pressure levels are as healthy as they've been in years. I want this stomach gone! I want my breasts to shrink so they don't hang down; I'm short-waisted enough as it is! I want to be able to wear sleeveless shirts and shorts and not be embarrassed! ::sigh::
Actually, I'm in a pretty good mood today. Don't let my diet ranting get to you. Maybe exercising in the morning is good for me.
Had a good weekend. We skipped water aerobics on Friday to go to the GreenLeafe with a bunch of people from the office. (The Leafe is a local bar - excuse me, restaurant that serves alcohol. (Bars are illegal in VA.) It's not the most popular alcohol-serving restaurant in the area, because their prices are a little steep for the college students who make up the majority of drinkers in the area. (The Leafe serves a lot of specialty beers, whereas the Delis serve whatever's cheap this week.) But it was fun. We had dinner there and sat drinking until about 8 or so, and then Jeremy and Matt decided they had to look in on the college's Tech Support (the Leafe is across the street from William and Mary's campus). So the four of us (including Jeremy's girlfriend Elizabeth) tromped over to the campus. My bad foot was bothering me, so I went and flopped in the University Center for half an hour while they wandered around.
Saturday we puttered around running errands in the morning. I bought myself a new color printer last weekend - I'd been meaning to get one since before Christmas, but decided to hold off. So anyway, I bought one finally last weekend, and I thought it would be great if I could get some index cards and print out the recipes we actually use, and then we wouldn't have as many cookbooks cluttering up the kitchen. So we went to Staples. What I had in mind was the specialty stuff that Avery makes. When I finally found it, I was astonished to learn that the Avery stuff was like $15 for only 150 note cards. Regular plain index cards were only $3.50 for 500 of them, so I got those and decided for that much savings, I could blow as many as I needed to, to get the settings right. And it only took me about four tries to get everything lined up the way I wanted it.
Since I got the new printer, though, I spent more time wandering around Staples. Here's something funny for you: I hardly ever print anything, really. The occasional letter, or a shopping list, or a budget. But since I just got the brand-new color printer I was lingering over all the novelty paper like a kid in a candy shop. I kept having conversations with myself:
Let's get this stuff with the parchment scroll on it.Like that. Anyway, after we ran our errands, we went down to visit my mom for a while. (Dad was at a scouting event, or we'd have visited him, too.) We went to dinner at Don Pablo's and I blew my diet just a little bit - I thought if I had the dinner salad with no cheese and plain vinegar for dressing, then I'd have enough points left over to have dessert (I adore their ice cream nachos). But when I got home and added it up, I was a bit over anyway. Oh, well. Saturday night we rented The Full Monty. That was really good. Just fantastic. Hysterically funny. Even after we'd gone to bed, I would remember some scene and start giggling again. If you haven't seen it yet, rent it!
What are we going to do with that?
I dunno, but it's really cool. Chuck had it, remember? He used it for the game.
Yeah, but we're not in a game right now. What would you use it for?
Ooh! This is kindof cute.
It's just some graphics at the top of normal paper. You have a color printer - if you want graphics at the top, just print graphics at the top!
Yeah, but that would use up the color ink faster.
I'm willing to bet that the amount of ink used to print those graphics is not more expensive than buying a whole pack of the paper and using only two sheets.
Well...
Sunday after we did the chores (Sunday is laundry and grocery day) we swung by my folks' house to visit with my dad a little bit and then headed down to KT and Kevin's place for the Alternity game. That was fun, especially after the Twerp left and Richard and Carl showed up. I'd forgotten what it was like to game with them. We had a blast. I even stayed until ten, which broke the rule I had set right at the beginning that I would not stay later than nine. (I get cranky if I don't get eight hours of sleep a night, but it was so great to see Rick and Carl...)
But I blew my diet again. I thought I'd reserved enough points for dinner, and wound up blowing it anyway by having two McD's hamburgers and two side salads. ::sigh:: Matt and I talked about it on the way home, and we decided that from now on, we'll bring our own dinner to the games. I just can not stick to my diet if we're going to be having fast food and pizza every gaming session. So I'll start bringing a can of soup or something. Maybe that chicken and caramelized onion recipe I picked up, since I like onions so much. And I'm going to try to get up every morning as soon as the alarm goes off and do some exercise. I'm starting with just five minutes, and I won't be counting repetitions or anything - just doing situps or leglifts or pushups or arm curls until the timer goes off. And then every other day or maybe once a week, I'll increase the time by thirty seconds, until I'm up to maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. I know, I've made plans like this before. But I've really got to take control, or even after I lose all the weight I want to lose, I'll just be this flabby skin hanging off my skeleton, and I really won't be any better looking than now.
KT's so together about it. She seems to have finally made peace with her body, and now being overweight doesn't seem to bother her in the slightest. It seems like, for her, she wants to be more healthy, but couldn't care less about her figure. I wish I could manage that - it seems like a more emotionally healthy outlook - but I just look down at my stomach and think about how gross it looks. It doesn't seem to matter that my cholesterol and blood pressure levels are as healthy as they've been in years. I want this stomach gone! I want my breasts to shrink so they don't hang down; I'm short-waisted enough as it is! I want to be able to wear sleeveless shirts and shorts and not be embarrassed! ::sigh::
Actually, I'm in a pretty good mood today. Don't let my diet ranting get to you. Maybe exercising in the morning is good for me.
Wednesday, February 24, 1999
Archive - 24 Feb 1999
So I'm sitting at my desk at work. We had a couple of power outages right after lunch that kept the computers off until almost 3:00, and that was good. Any time we get to just sit around the office and bullshit without getting into trouble is good. But, alas, the power was restored and we're supposed to be working, now. But I had finished my module just before lunch, and there was nothing left for me to do but e-mail it to the guy who's doing the rest of the program and wait for him to encounter bugs. (I'm pretty sure my algorithms are sound; I expect things to be pretty slow here at work for the next couple of weeks. Maybe I'll have a chance to do some work on my webpage.)
But during the two hours that there was no power, I was talking to Matt (did I mention we work for the same company?) and we agreed that if the power was still out when we left work, we wouldn't be able to go to our water aerobics class tonight. But the power came back on, dammit. So now I'm trying to see if I can come up with some other reason not to go to class.
I wonder why it is that I do this to myself? I hate exercising. I can't think of a single type of regular exercise that I enjoy. I don't like games that require physical activity much, either. Well, I enjoy dancing, but dancing alone in your apartment feels really dorky, and going out to clubs just to get exercise is a little expensive.
The problem is, when people ask why I don't like exercising, or they suggest activities for me to try, my reasons for hating it come across as mere excuses. Whiney excuses, even. I can't stand feeling sweaty. Chlorine makes my skin itch. I hate changing clothes in the middle of the day - especially if I'm wet. I have yet to encounter a bicycle seat that doesn't give me a wedgie. I have a bad back. I have bad feet. (That one's medically documented, at least.) I hate the dirty feeling that comes with sweating and doing floor exercises like situps.
And all that's true. But that doesn't stop it from sounding like whining.
My Weight Watchers leader, Deby, gave us a suggestion that I thought was good a while back - when you're watching TV, get up and march or jog in place during the commercials. There are a good 15-20 minutes of commercials in every hour of TV. Unfortunately, we don't usually watch any TV at all in the evenings. And when we do, Matt isn't usually the sort to turn on to a particular show and just leave it there; he has to flip around the channels. And not just during the commercials - Sometimes, just as I think I might enjoy some show, he gets bored and changes the channel. It's usually not worth the bother to tell him to turn it back. The point remains that we don't watch enough TV to turn it into my exercise schedule. (Maybe when the new B5 show starts... But that will still only be once a week.)
Why can't I just suck it up and deal with it? Why does it seem to me that my 45-minute aerobics class eats up half of my free time? (Well, it does; I get off work at 5, the class runs from 5:30 to 6:15, and since I have to change clothes afterwards, we don't get home until almost 7. And I have to start getting ready for bed by 9 or there's no way I'll get enough sleep. So two hours out of my four-hour evening is half.) But there's got to be some form of exercise I can do that won't be so time-consuming and oppressive... It's not even like the class is that hard - but three times a week I find myself dreading it; hoping that Matt will forget about it so I don't have to go; looking for an excuse - any excuse - that will get me out of going to that damn gym and putting on that damn bathing suit and getting into that gods-be-damned WAY too cold water and changing in that WAY too cold locker room afterwards...
Pathetic, isn't it?
I need to have an exercise partner, because otherwise I won't do it. But by the same token, I don't know anyone who's as out of shape as I am, and I'm so fucking competitive that I hate exercising with someone who's better at the activity than I am, so I just start to resent whoever my partner is. It's not quite as bad in the aerobics class because I can just internally complain about how rude the old women in the class are, which keeps me from having to hate my own husband. But I still hate it.
I want an exercise that I can do in my own house that will let me read a fucking book so I don't have to think about how much I hate it. When I was living with my parents, before my feet got so bad, I walked on their treadmill and watched TV. (It had to be subtitled TV because the treadmill was so loud, but hey. I've got an anime collection.) That worked, even though I got *really* grossly sweaty, because I didn't have to get up early so I could just get up and do it before I took my shower. If I got up any earlier than I do now, I'd have to start going to bed at 8.
Dammit, I'm whining again. Sorry, guys. I'll be more upbeat next entry. I'm just so fucking discouraged today.
Update: Finished that entry about five minutes before I left to go to my water aerobics class. After typing it all in, I was even more irritable about it than before. Snapped at Matt as we were getting in the car, drove in complete silence to the gym. Well, not complete silence, because I was crying most of the way. Can you believe it? Crying! I don't even know why. I take that back - I was crying because what I really wanted to do was scream at the top of my lungs that I hated exercising and I hated my body and that the world was unfair and I hated it, too. But I couldn't, so the anger sortof backwashed and I started crying. Dumb, huh? Sometimes I wish I weren't a woman.
Anyway, we got to the gym and gave them our tickets. (Stupid dork taking the tickets tore the last ticket off my bracelet and tried to give me the empty, useless bracelet back. Duh!) And we went into the locker room. I changed, amid way too many people. (I hate changing clothes standing up. I used to be able to do it, but I'm too fat now.) Went into the pool area, and started down the ramp into the water. For once, the water was a reasonable temperature. Got in about up to my waist, and Matt starts giving me these "Don't come any further" gestures. It turns out that our instructor, Nancy (who I really like, by the way - no matter how much I hate exercise, I like the instructor for this class)... Where was I? Oh, yeah. Nancy was sick, and hadn't been able to find a replacement. They had told the people at the front desk, but given the half-drugged stare of the guy who took our bracelet tags, I'm not surprised he didn't remember it.
For a few seconds, it was like having your teacher out sick on the day you were supposed to read your book report. I can just turn around and go home now, I thought. I was relieved more than anything else. I'm going to turn around and go dry off my legs and put some lotion on them so they don't get all itchy and then I'll get dressed and go home and read a book while Matt makes dinner. So I opened my mouth to tell Matt that I would meet him in the lobby.
"Well, it's Lap Night. We can do laps without Nancy here."
Who said that? Not me, surely. All I wanted to do was go home and flop down on the couch. "Are you sure?" Matt asks, looking surprised.
Oh, shit. That was me... And for no apparent reason, I cheer up all of a sudden. Oh, I'm not Miss Congeniality or anything like that, but I'm reasonable enough to smile and crack a few jokes with the other people there for the class. Almost everyone who came in stayed anyway. Everyone else appointed one of the long-time members the leader for the night while I loudly denounced them (jokingly) as conformists and Did My Own Thing for forty-five minutes. But I did the laps. All eighteen of them. And then I did some arm exercises. I tried the abdomen exercises, but decided I still didn't want to deal with that much water in my hair, so I gave up. But I was there for the entire duration of the class. And now I'm home, and my darling husband (who is, I can tell, extremely relieved that I recovered my sense of humor) is in the kitchen making one of my favorite dinners. (Don't read anything special into that - we take turns making dinner, and it happens to be his turn. And we have Cheating Chicken Cacciatore almost every week anyway, because it's easy and fits well into my diet. But I still appreciate that he's nice enough to trade off cooking duties with me, because neither of us is a big fan of cooking, but him less so than me.)
Anyway, after that big whine-fest up at the top of the page, I thought I'd just post a quick update to let everyone know I didn't make poor Matt's life miserable all night.
Now I'm going to go flop on the couch and read a book...
But during the two hours that there was no power, I was talking to Matt (did I mention we work for the same company?) and we agreed that if the power was still out when we left work, we wouldn't be able to go to our water aerobics class tonight. But the power came back on, dammit. So now I'm trying to see if I can come up with some other reason not to go to class.
I wonder why it is that I do this to myself? I hate exercising. I can't think of a single type of regular exercise that I enjoy. I don't like games that require physical activity much, either. Well, I enjoy dancing, but dancing alone in your apartment feels really dorky, and going out to clubs just to get exercise is a little expensive.
The problem is, when people ask why I don't like exercising, or they suggest activities for me to try, my reasons for hating it come across as mere excuses. Whiney excuses, even. I can't stand feeling sweaty. Chlorine makes my skin itch. I hate changing clothes in the middle of the day - especially if I'm wet. I have yet to encounter a bicycle seat that doesn't give me a wedgie. I have a bad back. I have bad feet. (That one's medically documented, at least.) I hate the dirty feeling that comes with sweating and doing floor exercises like situps.
And all that's true. But that doesn't stop it from sounding like whining.
My Weight Watchers leader, Deby, gave us a suggestion that I thought was good a while back - when you're watching TV, get up and march or jog in place during the commercials. There are a good 15-20 minutes of commercials in every hour of TV. Unfortunately, we don't usually watch any TV at all in the evenings. And when we do, Matt isn't usually the sort to turn on to a particular show and just leave it there; he has to flip around the channels. And not just during the commercials - Sometimes, just as I think I might enjoy some show, he gets bored and changes the channel. It's usually not worth the bother to tell him to turn it back. The point remains that we don't watch enough TV to turn it into my exercise schedule. (Maybe when the new B5 show starts... But that will still only be once a week.)
Why can't I just suck it up and deal with it? Why does it seem to me that my 45-minute aerobics class eats up half of my free time? (Well, it does; I get off work at 5, the class runs from 5:30 to 6:15, and since I have to change clothes afterwards, we don't get home until almost 7. And I have to start getting ready for bed by 9 or there's no way I'll get enough sleep. So two hours out of my four-hour evening is half.) But there's got to be some form of exercise I can do that won't be so time-consuming and oppressive... It's not even like the class is that hard - but three times a week I find myself dreading it; hoping that Matt will forget about it so I don't have to go; looking for an excuse - any excuse - that will get me out of going to that damn gym and putting on that damn bathing suit and getting into that gods-be-damned WAY too cold water and changing in that WAY too cold locker room afterwards...
Pathetic, isn't it?
I need to have an exercise partner, because otherwise I won't do it. But by the same token, I don't know anyone who's as out of shape as I am, and I'm so fucking competitive that I hate exercising with someone who's better at the activity than I am, so I just start to resent whoever my partner is. It's not quite as bad in the aerobics class because I can just internally complain about how rude the old women in the class are, which keeps me from having to hate my own husband. But I still hate it.
I want an exercise that I can do in my own house that will let me read a fucking book so I don't have to think about how much I hate it. When I was living with my parents, before my feet got so bad, I walked on their treadmill and watched TV. (It had to be subtitled TV because the treadmill was so loud, but hey. I've got an anime collection.) That worked, even though I got *really* grossly sweaty, because I didn't have to get up early so I could just get up and do it before I took my shower. If I got up any earlier than I do now, I'd have to start going to bed at 8.
Dammit, I'm whining again. Sorry, guys. I'll be more upbeat next entry. I'm just so fucking discouraged today.
Update: Finished that entry about five minutes before I left to go to my water aerobics class. After typing it all in, I was even more irritable about it than before. Snapped at Matt as we were getting in the car, drove in complete silence to the gym. Well, not complete silence, because I was crying most of the way. Can you believe it? Crying! I don't even know why. I take that back - I was crying because what I really wanted to do was scream at the top of my lungs that I hated exercising and I hated my body and that the world was unfair and I hated it, too. But I couldn't, so the anger sortof backwashed and I started crying. Dumb, huh? Sometimes I wish I weren't a woman.
Anyway, we got to the gym and gave them our tickets. (Stupid dork taking the tickets tore the last ticket off my bracelet and tried to give me the empty, useless bracelet back. Duh!) And we went into the locker room. I changed, amid way too many people. (I hate changing clothes standing up. I used to be able to do it, but I'm too fat now.) Went into the pool area, and started down the ramp into the water. For once, the water was a reasonable temperature. Got in about up to my waist, and Matt starts giving me these "Don't come any further" gestures. It turns out that our instructor, Nancy (who I really like, by the way - no matter how much I hate exercise, I like the instructor for this class)... Where was I? Oh, yeah. Nancy was sick, and hadn't been able to find a replacement. They had told the people at the front desk, but given the half-drugged stare of the guy who took our bracelet tags, I'm not surprised he didn't remember it.
For a few seconds, it was like having your teacher out sick on the day you were supposed to read your book report. I can just turn around and go home now, I thought. I was relieved more than anything else. I'm going to turn around and go dry off my legs and put some lotion on them so they don't get all itchy and then I'll get dressed and go home and read a book while Matt makes dinner. So I opened my mouth to tell Matt that I would meet him in the lobby.
"Well, it's Lap Night. We can do laps without Nancy here."
Who said that? Not me, surely. All I wanted to do was go home and flop down on the couch. "Are you sure?" Matt asks, looking surprised.
Oh, shit. That was me... And for no apparent reason, I cheer up all of a sudden. Oh, I'm not Miss Congeniality or anything like that, but I'm reasonable enough to smile and crack a few jokes with the other people there for the class. Almost everyone who came in stayed anyway. Everyone else appointed one of the long-time members the leader for the night while I loudly denounced them (jokingly) as conformists and Did My Own Thing for forty-five minutes. But I did the laps. All eighteen of them. And then I did some arm exercises. I tried the abdomen exercises, but decided I still didn't want to deal with that much water in my hair, so I gave up. But I was there for the entire duration of the class. And now I'm home, and my darling husband (who is, I can tell, extremely relieved that I recovered my sense of humor) is in the kitchen making one of my favorite dinners. (Don't read anything special into that - we take turns making dinner, and it happens to be his turn. And we have Cheating Chicken Cacciatore almost every week anyway, because it's easy and fits well into my diet. But I still appreciate that he's nice enough to trade off cooking duties with me, because neither of us is a big fan of cooking, but him less so than me.)
Anyway, after that big whine-fest up at the top of the page, I thought I'd just post a quick update to let everyone know I didn't make poor Matt's life miserable all night.
Now I'm going to go flop on the couch and read a book...
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