Huh.  So that was February.

On the 12th, I drove Tom to the airport.  I haven’t seen him since.  He had it in his head that this time around he was just going to stay up at the new warehouse until the other manager got there and took there.

But on the 3rd I squeezed him in at the dentist who sent him to another dentist who said he needed to see a third dentist.  Dentist #1 took x-rays and referred him for a root canal.  Dentist #2 said the tooth was a total loss and referred him for extraction.

He wasn’t able to get to Dentist #3 before the 12th.  And after two weeks I finally put my put foot down and said I didn’t marry stupid so get back here to fix that tooth.  Yeesh.  (Dentist #3 has performed other oral surgeries on him so he wanted this specific dentist versus finding someone in Atlanta.)

He’ll be back next Tuesday, and fly out that Sunday again – just squeaking out the “no planes for three days” rule of having a gaping bloody clot in your mouth.  I’m happy he’s coming back because it means if things run longer than planned he’s taken care of.  I’m sad because I’m pretty sure this means he won’t be home for my birthday.

But.  All that is a great excuse for why Tom didn’t write the month the February.  It doesn’t explain my absence.  Except to say that I used to keep my weekends completely clear for spending time with my husband and without that criteria I got a little overbooked.

In February, I:

-Ran 6 miles for the first time ever.  Then did it again.  And again.  And again.  And again.  And again.  I am afraid I am a runner now.

-Attended a free conference on fundraising.  The gist was, our software and coaching skills are the only model that work.  Surprise, surprise.

-Made jam.  Strawberry jam.  In quilted glass bottles that could sit out on the shelf and not grow mold or anything.  I gave some away and the verdict is I make damn good jam.

-Volunteered with a group at an ape sanctuary south of me.  I’ve never been very interested in working with primates, but I have to say chimpanzees and orangutangs are pretty awesome.

-Saw a movie in a real movie theater.  You may say that’s not list-worthy, but it tops the number of movies I saw in a real movie theater in 2011 by one.  (It was the Decedents and I loved it.  I saw it with a friend who has been to Hawaii several times for work and plans to take me with next time so we can hike!)

-Camped out carrying/using all of the gear Tom and I usually carry/use together.  K, my planned hiking partner for a month on the AT this spring, was with me and used all of her two-person gear as well.  We compared everything to determine what would work best for the both of us.  Extra bonus to me is the knowledge I can hike with two-person gear solo if needed.

-Got a little head cold.  It’s gone, thank goodness.

-Attended some fun but time consuming meetings.  One with K to get started with hiking plans.  One with the other leaders of the volunteer group to determine how we can do more outreaches to help other sanctuaries.  (Yeah, I said “other” leaders.  As in, I’m one too.  Gah.  The introvert in me hates stepping up to the plate.  But the animal lover in me knows this needs doing.)

-Kept Tom’s fish alive.  Not a hard or especially time consuming task, granted.  But still.

-On top of running, basically kicked my ass from one side of the gym to the other.  Without my usual weekend indulgences, I’ve managed to keep the numbers on the scale moving in the right direction.  I just signed up for the first day of a one-month boot camp.  Fingers crossed I’m not the slowest person in camp.

-Got my oil changed.  Only 8,000 miles apart this time!

Now that Tom’s coming home in a few days, it’s super lucky I’ve got a pretty clear schedule for this weekend.  I’ve kept up on the basic necessities, but you will notice my February list did not include cleaning/changing the linens.  Or mopping the floors.

Most importantly, I have not scoured the internet for the perfect “I’m sorry I’m a crazy workaholic and missed your birthday” present.

When I started working for my grandmother, we (I) set some pretty strict rules.  The biggest of which was that I would not participate in any medical issues.  This was promptly discarded two weeks in when I had to remove a tick from her inner thigh.

EW.

But aside from parasite removal, I’ve held to this rule.  The thoughts behind it are 1) I’m not medically trained and 2) I’m only there two days out of the week.  If she needs help with daily things like eye drops and taking her blood sugar, she needs more help than I can offer.

I’m around to widen the gap between an independent apartment (albeit one with maid service and cafeteria privileges) and a fully assisted living facility (aka nursing home).  She wants to maintain her independence and her quality of life, so I am there to do things like help write checks for her bills, order perfume off the internet, handling her more personal shopping requests, research/discuss/aid in complicated matters such as taxes, the property in WI, etc.

The one thing I did not plan for or anticipate was how I would also become a big part of her social world.  Specifically, her dining entertainment.

My grandparents ate out 2 nights a week for as long as I can remember.  Now, not only does she not drive but she can’t see well enough to feel safe in just anyone’s vehicle.  She also hates to be far from her own bathroom and hates to break up lunch/dinner plans with friends to request a ride back early.

At first I felt awkward about how much we ate out.   It was definitely a job perk I hadn’t counted on.  Nor really appreciated since it was also around this time when I started trying to get healthy.

A few times I tried paying for the smaller meals.  And a few times I succeeded.  But it really bugged her.  Once I mentioned it to my mother and she was adamant I let Gma pay because she truly enjoyed being able to go out and treat me.

So I became deft at ordering salads and splitting desserts.  I would take a long walk in the afternoon while Gma napped and follow it up with some more aerobics while catching up on Glee and House.  Despite this weekly decadence, I managed to make progress.

Then the cancer came.

Here’s the thing.  When someone has little time left and they still have an appetite?  You encourage it.  Gma started having very specific restaurant requests and once there, very specific preferences.  I don’t think I will ever again sit down to a table where someone orders salmon Florentine with french fries.

The problem is that Gma is very much a social eater/drinker.  She’ll have a glass wine with dinner if you are.  She’ll have dessert if you do too.  (Gone also were the days of splitting desserts.  She wanted her own, damnit.)  She wouldn’t even enjoy her soup/salad if I didn’t have something as well.  This happened often since I’d order an entree salad and no soup.  Then she would stop after every fork/spoon-full to ask if I wanted some.

So, I began to eat more.  I ordered wine and dessert.  When and if I ordered an entree salad, I’d also order some vegetable side to come out when her soup/salad course arrived.

Throughout our journey with the cancer so far, Gma has had few physical manifestations that she is ill.  The cancer is already in her lymph system, so one side effect we were told of was the possibility of lymph fluid building up in her abdomen.  And that seemed to be happening, as her stomach grew and her pants grew tight.

But the oncologist didn’t hear fluid when she went for checkups.  Yet Gma kept patting her belly and talking about how it just seemed to be growing and growing.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

I’m not quite sure why I didn’t put 2+2 together myself.  I guess because in a way I wanted her to have some signs of sickness?  That sounds horrible, but it’s also what she wants.  It drives her bat shit crazy that she’s been given this death sentence and doesn’t have a damn thing to show for it.

Finally, everything clicked (for me at least) when we saw her regular primary care doctor and she got on the scale.  She’d gained 8 pounds in three months.

I still did have to point out to her the connection.  I was leery to do so.  I didn’t want her to feel the need to stop her marvelous eating and enjoyment.  But I finally had to speak up the next time we saw the oncologist to give an explanation for the large belly does not equal horrible lymph system run amok.

While I probably in part get my stockiness from my Gma, she’s a pretty petite lady these days.  She can stomach those 8 pounds as long as she’s also willing to shell out some money for new pants.

But I however, cannot afford them.  The pounds or the pants.  I don’t have cancer (that we know of) (yet).  My food and exercise choices are made in part to ward off the possibility.  So now I am back to no desserts and (for the time being) no wine.  Which means she is too.  At least with me.

Thank god she has cocktail hour three times a week with other residents of her community!

So!  I got bigger during the holidays!

Actually, all throughout last year I got bigger and smaller.  And then bigger some more.  And then some smaller for a change.

I would get really fed up and determined I was going to stay on track and just do it and <insert positive sports metaphor here>.  For about two weeks or so the scale would comply with my wishes and show numbers sliding down the rabbit hole.

Then it would stop.  Repeat until you feelings lean more towards failure than fed up.  Every time I eased up on my diet and exercise, some pounds packed on.  Clothes felt (feel) tight again.  I’d hit a good patch of uninterrupted weeks and start the whole cycle over again…and yet.

Let me back up.  To March 2009 when I went to my doctor and said despite new exercise routines and diet I was not losing weight.  Blood work showed borderline hypothyroidism.  Weight gain (and difficultly with weight loss) is a symptom.  As were a few other vague issues I’d had that I attributed to my lifestyle.

I received medicine for hypothyroidism.  And the weight came off.  Not easily, but it did.  I felt I could concentrate better, my energy level was better.

The thing is – the medicine I received, T3 & T4 hormones, would have had this effect whether I truly needed it or not.  And after a year, my blood work showed I had a tad hyper thyroid.  Besides being asymptomatic any other way I could see (in fact, my weight loss had already started to slow down), the hormones had started messing with my heart.

Every since my doctor decided to take me off thyroid medicine without doing any follow-up lab work to reassess my thyroid levels, I’ve wanted a new doctor.  When I came to her with a girlie problem that is a known system to hypothyroidism and she offered 3 possible cures that did not include looking at my thyroid levels, I knew I’d never go back to her for a regular physical again.

But I have not wanted to use hormones, lazy thyroids, or other impaired organs not in my control as an excuse.  Tom and I also quit hiking as frequently around the same time because it was getting hella-hot in FL.  When I started running and hot yoga I packed on 6 pounds of lean muscle and looked awesome no matter what the scale said.  (Yes, I just complained about the heat in FL and then blithely mention I PAY to do exercise in a 101 degree room.)

Besides not hiking, I hit the height of my travel plans over the summer.  And then ever since my 5K race at the beginning of October, I’ve had one injury after another.  I keep telling myself that I can’t look for other health problems as an excuse when the tried-and-true “eat less, exercise more” hasn’t been fully tested for months now.

Then on Christmas Eve Eve, I had a tiny cancer removed from my calf.  I would have mentioned it but carcinoma definitely does not deserve its own post.  (Yes, I wear sunscreen religiously.  But I am a pale, freckly, moley girl like my mother.  Who’s had about a bazillion removed so you can imagine her sympathy level.  “Huh.” I believe is a direct quote.)  I had stitches right smack dab in the middle of the front of my leg.  I spent between Christmas and New Year’s Eve sitting with my leg elevated, drinking and eating.

So obviously, especially on the heels of a nasty New Year’s Eve hangover, I wanted to start this year back on track.  And to just do it.  Possibly even be the eye of the tiger.

Except…lord I am just so tired of it all.  Tired of failing.  And tired of doing nothing about failing.

Instead of getting back on track, I’m taking a small side detour.

Oh, I’m back to my regularly scheduled workouts.  And I cut out alcohol for the month.  I’m getting about 5 to 9 servings of vegetables a day.  Very little refined sugar.

But what I’m not back to is plugging in numbers to an app or a spreadsheet.  I’m not hopping on the scale every morning ready for it to decree my day a success or not even before coffee.

It feels…right.  I can concentrate on how food tastes and how exercise makes me stronger instead of equations and graphs.  It also means I’m not trying to work the system to figure out how I can have an extra glass of wine or piece of cake.  (I do keep a food/exercise journal for data in case this flops and I am weighing myself here and there.  But neither of things for now is used to determine my daily course of action.)

I am being strict with one particular app.  The calendar.  If I haven’t seen progress by March, I will find a new Dr as well as a personal trainer/nutritionist.

Overall, I still weigh less today than I did one year ago.  I have more muscle.  I have greater stamina.  But I know I’m not done with this journey and I’m ready to get help to achieve it if need be.

After all my bitching and moaning about figuring out how/when to get the dog, my grandmother’s surgery consult went well but left her exhausted and not interested in doing much else for the day so I made the impromptu decision to skedaddle and drive up to GA that same day.

Then when I got to GA, my brother-in-law was on vacation and visiting, so they had dinner reservations and, “Go get changed!”  Except my change of clothes were rather formal for rural southern GA and my MIL saw me a real true skirt and said, “Go change back!”

While I doubt there is much my inlaws and I will ever agree on (except that frugal shopping should be made an olympic sport and we could all compete), I am thankful that I can show up practically unannounced and pass time with them without Tom needing to be there for a buffer zone.

Originally I thought about spending the night in GA or Gainesville, but I got a bug up my butt to just be done already.  I knew staying in GA meant my BIL would sleep on the couch which meant when I got up at 5:30AM, I’d have to just make him move.  And I was making good enough time (Thank you cruise control and lack of traffic-enforcement officers!) that I knew I’d get to Gainesville and not be able to relax and sleep, all revved up thinking about getting home the next morning.

So I drove 10 hours in one day and hey, would you look at that!  Remember eons ago when I had a bulging disc in L5-S1?  Me too.  And it came back for revenge.

But it was worth it because spacing the driving out over a few days wouldn’t have made that much of a difference and this way I could relax in my own home with my own husband.

Getting home early also meant I go do real, true grocery shopping for us for the next few days.  While I joke about how I like to eat pie (I do) and FunYuns (…I used to?  I’m not quite sure if I can stomach that much artifical crap these days) and margaritas (do you have one now?  My back would appreicate it), I actually enjoy eating healthy.  It’s part and parcel with the fact that I enjoy eating.

So on top of the zucchini, viadala onions, and weird tiny peaches that my MIL gave me, we now have in our fridge baby bella mushrooms, fresh spinach, broccoli, a bag of “gourmet” salad, strawberries, sweet potatoes, regular potatoes (which will never get eaten all the way but I needed one to make potato rolls and could not stomach the price per each versus 3 lb bag), a bag of apples, and cherries (!!!  It’s the start of the season!  I love cherries so very much and this heralds the start of a month-long cherryfest in casa de Progress).  There was also a cantaloupe, but it was too mealy and had to go.  And of course there are the everpresent frozen blueberries for breakfast smoothies and canned beets since I try to eat 6 servings of veggies a day, canned veggies are easy, and while fresh beets definitely taste better, they are not a food that suffers horribly from the canning proccess (hello asparagus, mushrooms, and potatoes!  WTF.).

So far I have made a fruit salad and an every-veggie-I-can-find fritata.  Tonight I think I will grill some zucchini and carmelize the shit (fancy cooking terminalogy!) out of some onions as a topping for Mahi Mahi.

Tom would like you all to know that I if keep up with this veggie fiber-fest, I may need to shop for a new toilet.  Actually, he probably would not like for you all to know that but I said it anyway.

I got back this afternoon from my second air plane trip in two weeks.  Now I just have two car trips in the next 4 days to get through and I’m back to my semi-regular schedule!

I am not at my lowest weight loss recorded right now.  But I have done pretty well eating and purposely planned active trips so I am at a comfortable point on the scale which I know from past experience I can dip down to my low point with a week of regular exercise and non-travel eating.

But today the combination of no lunch due to poor planning and horrible flight times, plus a few too many phone calls stressing about the schedule for the 1st of my 2 road trips, led me to really want to indulge this afternoon.  I turned on streaming netflix, took off my bra, and ordered in.  Fuck exercise.  Fuck fruits and veggies.  (OK, not really.  I ordered a salad along with my sandwich and dessert).  I couldn’t go buy fresh food at the grocery store anyway with the next 4 days planned as they are, and anyway I would have bought MUCH more crap at the free-for-all of branding and 2-4-1 marketing of the store.

Point is, I just really felt justified in ordering delivery versus poking around in the freezer for another boneless skinless chicken breast.

Later in the shower, I looked longingly at the “fancy” shower gel that has a nicer scent than my usual soap.  I’ve been trying to use up my old, regular soap before I broke into the new fancy stuff.

And it hit me that even with a smokin’ new body, even after a year of struggles and modifications and triumphs, I still am easily swayed to indulge myself with food.  Whereas I am gloating to myself over some sort of iron will power over using the fancy soap.

Granted, you can’t eat soap.  But still.

I have purposely shied away from the people that say, “It’s not a diet, it’s a lifestyle change” because I call bullshit.  Yes, it’s a lifestyle change to eat healthier and exercise more.  But currently as I wish for a certain number to magically appear on the scale, I am dieting.  I am eating 300, 600, sometimes even 1,000 less calories per day than I would be if I just wanted to have a “lifestyle”.

But in the shower, comparing my fancy soap to an inulgent meal I justify to myself, I realized perhaps at some point I’m going to have dig deeper than calories in versus calories out.  Otherwise I might end up justifying my lifestyle diet yet again down the road.  And I am getting too old for this shit.

(I used the fancy soap too.)

1)  I am down to just two to-do lists!

2) I’ll be down to one once I get the airport this afternoon!

3) I’m pretty sure these lists suck though since I couldn’t think of anything to add to my “Chicago To Do” until this morning.

4) And I’m unsure of how to cross off “call sitter – figure out when we need her” because

5) We came home to Spike having bloody, hard to pass urine.

6) I don’t blame her for that, but on the other hand obviously having someone stop in was not as soothing to him as previously thought.  (We have a huge water fountain, automatic feeders, and two huge + 1 regular litter boxes, so leaving the cats to fend for themselves for 1-2 days is often a valid choice)

7) It was stressful to have him prescribed twice-a-day meds less than 24 hours before I had to drive up to Gainesville.  I managed to time it out to dose him 7 hours apart.  Then I thought about him constantly while going over medical paperwork with Grandma.

8) But I came home to non-bloody urine in the kitchen sink which was awesome because

9) Hello, not bloody.  And

10) He’d been peeing bloody urine in the bathroom sink which is easier to jump up to.  So he must be feeling better to reach the kitchen counter!

11) What with me leaving on a Thursday and not returning until Tuesday, Tom and I will go almost 2 weeks without seeing each other.

12) And then someone has to go get the dog which we could do together but would mean leaving Spike alone and I will not be sold on that idea until I get back next week.

13) I could in theory drive up and get the dog after driving straight from Gainesville from the airport (OK, not literally.  But almost) to take my grandmother for her surgeon consult.

14) Just typing it makes my blood pressure rise.

15) I have evidently become a huge wimp.  Because that just described at most 14 hours of travel spanned out over 4 days with almost bat-shit else to do in between.  (Although it does mean another 4 days straight away from home which is a little stressful what with the peeing and all.)

16) In all fairness, I have always been a huge wimp.  I am a fan of incremental planning.  If I were building the great wall of China, I would not make a picture of the entire wall.  I’d offer up 5 feet and let them know how much I could do in the next progress report.

17) This is why I never want to become a manager.  I am not a “Big Picture” person.  I like the trees, not the forest.

18) I also like actually doing things versus sitting around feeling accomplished because other people are doing things.

19) I think I’m a little scared that I’ll be sad going to the farm and Dad’s not there.

20)  No good segue to that one.  Took me 19 fucking lines to figure out that was bothering me so once I got there, I ran with it.

21) It’s silly to be scared about being sad and I’m fine with being sad because I’m a late-mourner so I’m aware I haven’t full taken-in what his death means to me, but I just don’t want to have it all come out on my mom.

22) She’s probably a little bummed herself and doesn’t need that shit.

23) In general I haven’t been psyched about this trip, so hopefully that means it will be kick-ass.  I’ve rarely not had fun that the farm. 

24) At least I’m pretty sure I won’t have to sleep on any down pillows that cause my sinus infection to return.  Thank you, hotel check-in preferences, for proving how useless you really are.

25) I packed some of that super-duper decongestant just in case.

26)  Time for lunch!  Gotta love cleaning out the fridge.  Think I should down the last glass of wine?

27) The cats might knock it off the counter otherwise.

28) Ya know, when they’re trying to pee.

29) Argh.  Also, meh.  (So I guess I’ll have some whine after all!  WHY must we just have put down our most unhealthiest, neediest cat only to have another one take her place?  Spike isn’t even 5!  Stop peeing like an old man!)

30) In another segue-less point (which, isn’t that why this is a list?  To be able to spew the randoms without the need for connectivity?), while I haven’t been able to lose more weight this month I seem to be doing a good job holding steady.

31) And having this much time off makes me realize how crazy my old workout routine was.

32) So I am looking forward to a new, slightly less-insane, plan of attack for June.

33) It does help to pack my skinniest pair of jeans and wear them often.  They are not quite so bad that I can’t breath while sitting down, but I definitely don’t think of them as “eatin’ pants”.

34) Sadly, a lot of my other pants fall in that category because I’m too cheap to buy in-between pants.

35) So I’d better get off my ass and lose the rest of this weight so I can buy some damn pants that fit.

36) Maybe next time I write I’ll share, “Farming, how to lose 15 lbs in a week!”

37) Or maybe not.  But I am trying to figure out how to bring protein powder in my luggage without getting a narcotics rap.

38) Until I’m done with farming or my jail time, watch out for bloody urine, down pillows, and eatin’ pants!  Downfalls of civilization, I tell ya!

In my last post I likened having a baby with breast cancer or a dead dad.  Fruedian much?

(I have actually held said baby for over an hour straight, but only Momma was there and no one will believe her.)

(Don’t tell my in-laws.)

Also!  I mentioned my Dr would find something else completely different to worry about and I was right!  Except I kinda knew it going in.

I got a heart rate monitor (HRM) for my birthday.  It was the one thing I really wanted because I would never spend that kind of money on that kind of item just for myself.  But they are very helpful to get the most out of your workouts.  Specifically, cardio machines lie their buttons off to you about burning! So! Many! Calories!  Quick, go eat some pie before you wither to nothing!

And since I fully intend to eat pie the rest of my life, I figured it might be helpful to get some real calorie burn numbers for my workouts.  That way I can have pie, but maybe eat less carrots to even things out.

So, bright shiny new toy for my birthday.  And what do I do with any bright shiny new toy?  Use it immediately without reading any instructions whatsoever.  It’s just my personality.  Even if you made me sit and stare at the instruction manual for six hours straight (feeding me pie all the while), I would jump up from the chair, fall down because my legs fell asleep, then grab the gadget and push random buttons.  If you started asking me what the buttons do, I would give big lengthy explanations using any 3-syllable words I happened to remember from the box.  I am a great bullshitter.

It’s actually quite easy to use a HRM.  So I strapped it on, entered some bio stuff in the watch, and pressed “Start”.

About 2 minutes into my elliptical routine, I noticed it was beeping.  A lot.  Continuously.  It was very upset over something, or happy about something, or felt something else should stop/start/be happening.

It appeared to be still recording my burn, so I just adjusted the volume on my earphones and carried on.

Close the end, I began fidgeting with the buttons a bit more, looking at all the possible readouts.  I know this info might be interesting to some, but for me it’s just boring.  I just wanted my MORE PIE number.

Until I realized the beeping might have had something to do with my heart rate being 215.

Go on and google.  You’ll find that’s a great heart rate if you wish the ambulance driver to use the sirens.

The thing is, I wasn’t even giving it 110%.  (Figuratively.  From the HRM’s standpoint, I was giving 126%.)  But I mean, I was grooving along OK.  I could have totally leaned over to you and said, “Holy shit!  My heart rate is 215!  I’m dead!” And if you aren’t in the medical field you could have been snarky back and we could have snarked the rest of the workout.  And then had pie.

If you are in the medical field you probably would have whipped my ass off that machine and decided my great birthday treat would be a ride to the ER.

Since I was alone, and am not in the medical field, I went, “huh” and finished my workout.  I continued with my birthday weekend plans of cupcake for breakfast, a nice hike, dinner with friends…not exactly walking dead itinerary.

But Monday, I googled.  And after my googling, I called the Dr and made appointments for blood work and a physical.

The physical wasn’t for several weeks, and while I didn’t want to keel over in the meantime and leave Tom with a “no show” Dr charge, I also wanted to be as skinny as possible to wow my Dr since last I saw her we put me on thyroid medicine due to my blood work and difficulty losing weight.  I’m happy as hell to shock friends and family with my new body, but her vote is the one that really counts.

(And sadly, she was so wrapped up in the heart rate drama she didn’t compliment me once.  And she had numbers in front of her and everything!)

So…in the weeks leading up to this visit, I still worked out.  I just modified my program a lot and wore the HRM to keep my heart rate under 200.  (Yes, this is still too high by conventional standards, but I had to decide on some number and I could hit the 65% target just lifting a fork.)  And lucky for the other gym goers, I did read the manual enough to learn how to turn off the beeping.

Cut to this morning when she leaves a poor med student to go over my blood work with me.  Evidently, my thyroid meds were working a little too well and I needed to cut down.  Maybe by half a pill.

Then I mentioned the heart rate.

That lady stethoscoped me for about 5 minutes straight all the while checking my face to see if I had turned blue and expired right there and then.

She couldn’t hear anything wrong, so she went and got the “real” Dr (who is actually a NP and I prefer NPs to Drs except I never know how to ask for her when I call the office so I just call her Karen, which I also like very much although I don’t think I’d call her to her face but luckily we’re usually in a one-on-one situation so I’ve never had that awkward “hey you” moment.)

ANYWAY.

Turns out, my heart rate seems elevated in general.  And the thyroid meds could be the cause.  And instead of lowering the dose by 1/2 a pill I am quitting cold turkey and seeing her again in a week.

Both student and Karen were entirely perplexed that I had no other symptoms from the medicine.  I had to repeatedly assure them I had no hair loss, palpitations, or tingling in my extremities.  Of course, that’s not really reassuring since that kinda points to maybe it’s not the meds.  But whatever.

Before I left, I did ask Karen if I could continue working out this week as long as I kept my heart rate below 200.  She said yes.  So maybe she’s not as impressed as everyone else by the weight loss.

I went into this hoping either 1) she’d say 215 was perfectly acceptable and some people are just wired differently or 2) she’d order a stress test.  I’d kinda like to jump on a treadmill now that I’m all buff and see what I can do if I go all out.  But maybe she thinks exploding hearts are a pain to clean up or bill or something.

If I go back in a week and the heart rate is still elevated, I have to wear a cardiac halter 24 hours.  Which will not be a good thing.  Especially if it has buttons.

I’m 36.  And I’ve given up wondering when I’ll start to feel adult.  I am now hoping I can hold onto feeling like a kid for as long as possible.

Things – job hunt aside – have been well.  Overall.  And I started a post about an amazing weekend Tom and I had a few weeks ago, but when I came to back to it I found I’d written about helping one of my favorite cats at the sanctuary.  She died less than a week after that.  Kinda ruined the story for me.

But we did have an awesome weekend.  Both then and just this past one.  I hit a scale-related goal that meant I took a birthday break from calorie counting and there was Teppanaki with a side of Groupon for a cheap and delicious meal.  There was also ice cream, hiking a new (to us) preserve, and taking the dog to the farmer’s market and watching her silently FREAK OUT over the diplay toy dog because WHAT DOES IT WANT FROM ME??

I very much enjoy newness and sometimes will insist on newness for newness sake consequences be damned.  But lately I’ve been trying very hard to like the status quo.  I am looking for stability and sameness in my schedule and accepting that maybe I won’t find another job before we take off for the AT.

Which should be less than a year away now!  Whoo! 

(We actually will agree to any start date between now and July if his company will give him time off with a promise of a job waiting when we get back.)

But, although I may accept my position as Grandma’s purse-holder and Jack Daniel’s supplier and cocktail napkin searcher (have you ever tried to find cute cocktail napkins?), I am also breathing a sigh of relief that we do have some new ideas coming our way.

First off, we have a vacation planned to visit some friends in DC, hike Shennandoah with them, and see some of the capitol.  I’ve never been to DC, we’ve never hiked with these friends, and we’ve never done a multiple day camping trip.  It has disaster written all over it and I am so excited!

Secondly, just days after we discussed the possibility of kayaking, a full day kayak rental was the livingsocial deal in our town.  We have to use it by June 17th, so hopefully it will provide new blog material soon and a new activity that we can do together.  Our current activity list of things to do together encompasses 1) hiking 2) watching TV 3) eating 4) having sex 5) light to medium banter/arguing.  It’s not the worst list, but I am always hoping to include Tom in things that break a sweat and there’s a sex joke in there somewhere.

And…maybe that’s it?  Or all I feel comfortable talking about.   Except I did just take a call from a groomer and booked Lady for the her second-ever complete shave to prep for the summer.  I asked my grandmother for my birthday to take me to a hair salon since she really has been wanting to go but feels silly since she goes to one at her retirement place and hated the idea of breaking her standing appointment so I made it all my fault and now she gets to have her hair done at the place she really liked before when she could drive and I’ll get a trim too which is desperately needed as scissors have not touched my head since CM whacked off 14 inches to send to Locks of Love 2 1/2 years ago.

So all three of us fine looking girls will be sporting new ‘dos by the end of the week and maybe that’s enough to get excited about for now.

Phew.  I had that last post about my dad sitting there for weeks.  I didn’t want to read it anymore, didn’t have the stomach for editing it much, but didn’t want to dump it.

Instead, I dumped it on you!   (I feel like saying, “Ha ha!” there, but perhaps it isn’t appropriate when speaking of a post about your father’s death.  But when your dad dies, you do inappropriate things.)

Anyway!  Where were we?  Resolutions!  As usual, I had to look back in my archives to see if I needed to sum up what I accomplished in 2010 and…nope.  I asked/demanded for 2010 to be better than 2009.  Didn’t happen.

I will admit, a secret resolution I had was to get healthier and lose some weight.  But I had made that resolution the year before.  Didn’t happen.  This is perhaps a theme for my blogging resolutions and I should quit while I’m ahead….

But when have I ever done THAT?

I am about 30 pounds lighter than around this time last year.  I gained a few pounds back with the holidays, but they were agreeable pounds.  I threw a cookie decorating party for crying out loud.  I made my blueberry smoothies with egg nog (delish!).  Minus a few mindless-eating-because-food’s-there situations, I am happy with the holiday noshing.

But!  Now I am back-to-business and in-your-face and other-hyphenated-phrases-that-mean-I-wish-to-kiss-ass!  By the numbers, I have roughly 30 more pounds I could lose.  My ultimate goal though, which may occur before then, is to fit into the fast-drying convertible cargo pants I purchased for my Costa Rica trip in 2006.  I found them in a close out sale for a size almost too small then.  I even opted for (gasp!) cotton yoga pants during one rain forest trip so I didn’t feel like a string was cutting me in half.  I got soaked and those pants were never the same again.  It is put-up-or-shut-up time with the cargo pants, and they are far too perfect for walking the AT to give them away now.

The AT is a theme to my resolutions.  Preparing for it, saving for it, or embracing the simpler life that it stands for in my mind.  So of course one of my resolutions is to hike more in 2011.  Assuming I wish to see my husband on the weekends, this should be an easy one to keep. 

An idea that I want to encompass in this is that our vacations be hiking related.  We were all set to have a mellow travel year in 2010, and then I got itchy about passports unused and we went to Jamacia for a wedding.  (Which…I never wrote about maybe?  Because I got entirely too drunk – puking through the night drunk – and it was embarassing and kinda ruined the trip for me since it was just over a weekend?)  Then my father..died.  I was going to write got sick and died.  But really,  he died within 24 hours of my first visit home.  And although some of that travel has been family-financed, it still takes a toll once you count the pet sitter, the parking, etc.

So this year, we will plan to go to the cabin in Wisconsin to bury my father’s ashes and do some hiking.  Hopefully any other reservations we need will involve a campsite and not a hotel room.

Since financing the AT is a BIG obstacle at this point, another resolution is to continue to look for a job.  I am trying to not be too picky, but the reality is after over 20 years in the workforce I have a strong idea of what will and won’t work for me in terms a daily task list.  Luckily, those 22 years have been spent doing everything from washing floors to real-time-top-secret-coding-stuff.  I am optimistic there will be a square-shaped hole somewhere for me.

Lastly, in simplifing life a bit I hope to not only save some cash for our big adventure but also feel that I am living more like the kind of person who takes off to hike the AT.  I plan to phase out most of our household cleaners for vinegar and baking soda (usually not a fan of  chemicals anyway, but I got sucked into the whole speciality-surface formula jazz).  I have already started baking our bread instead of buying.  I have always half-heartedly tried the rule of only eating sweets I make myself as part of my diet, so I hope to stick to it with more than a fleeting Oh, look ice cream! fancy.  I’m taking more of a scan at food labels, not just for the calories anymore but also the ingredients.  I like sugar, but does it really have a place in tomato sauce?

So…I have my work cut out for me.  I’m honestly afraid to suggest what 2011 might bring…but what the hell!  Here’s to hoping for brighter and better!

I have now gone for over a year without eating at McDonald’s.

I made the decision in late August 2009.  I had just gulped two double cheeseburgers (yes, two.  Doubt I’d had lunch but that hardly validates the decision) in less than five minutes.  I was through the toll plaza going home, and I felt like shit.  My heart beats felt…wavey.  I got the sweats.  I wanted to pull over and take a nap.

Since I rarely ate fast food, and rarely ate beef (if you wish to call McD’s patties such), I chalked the sickness up to both.  But, in the back of mind was the ever present idea that the Dr wanted me on blood pressure medicine and I was avoiding her for just that reason.  High blood pressure is such an…adult…thing.

So, right then and there, I decided no McDonald’s for me again.  Ever.

Let me put an aside here that I have nothing against the golden arches specifically.  I don’t not believe they are any better or worse than other fast food chains.  They just happen to have one right at the end of the road of the sanctuary.  It’s the only food(ish) stop on the way home period.

“But you could have a salad!”

Yeah….no.  I didn’t particularly like fast food to begin with.  But when I gave in, it was because I was exhausted and famished.  I am a big enough person to admit that I do not have will power to order salad when faced with french fries in starvation mode.

Since then, I have struggled with this decision once.  Again, a late night at the sanctuary with little provisions throughout the day.  I remember the automatic response as the lights from the gas station/Micky D’s spilled over onto the the end of the drive.

Instead of stopping there, I believe I went to the Publix across the street from my neighborhood.  I probably picked up unhealthy choices too.  But at least I had kept to my promise to myself.  And other than that one time, I have not even noticed it’s absence in my life.

Aside from the fact my Dr nixed the blood pressure medicine.