(Alas, this does not mean he’s been traveling less.  If anything, he’s travelling more since he’s driving back and forth to the warehouse in GA  (the one we really wish he’d get assigned to run) because its start date is earlier than the FL one and they need his help.  Driving instead of flying is dangerous for a workaholic because it’s so easy to add juust-ooonee-mooree-thiiiinnnng onto his plate before driving home.  He got in after 10pm one Friday, which never happened when he flew everywhere.  And he loves to leave at 4am Monday morning to get a head start on traffic.  Bah.)

Once my head kinda settled, I immediately wanted some spreadsheets and lists.  It’s not really possible for me to plan much of 2012 yet with so much up in the air.  But the combination of the new year and my determination to make the best of this situation for myself made for some crazy uber-lofty re-make-the-world-I-live-in-and-how-I-live-with-it statements.  I CAN DO ALL THE THINGS!

I have some huge items on that list.  Hiking.  Spending extra time at the cabin.  Getting a job.     Hopefully in that order because I’m pretty sure a new employer would not take kindly if I asked for two months off straight away.

These things, like my health, I am considering “goals”.  By which I am defining with my quotations to mean, “Large end events that require much subsequent planning, details, support and additional spreadsheets.  Maybe an App or two.”

But there are much more simple things that made the list as well.  Things that perhaps came about while thinking about these larger goals.  Some are hopes/ideals sprung from the vision I have for Tom and myself when we are living in something different than a breadbox 3 stories in the sky and his drive home is less than 8 hours.

These smaller, simpler items fall more into the “resolution” category.  And all of them follow the basic theme of less and more.

More Birthdays.  I am horrible at keeping in touch with people.  Isn’t everyone?  Yet each year I am constantly surprised by the number of emails, cards, calls, and texts I get from across the world on my birthday.  It warms my heart.  I want to do that for people.  So this year I resolve to send real, true snail-mail cards for people’s birthdays.

Less water.  I’m probably the only person in the world who needs to make this resolution.  But I can drink between 7-9 liters a day.  That’s 3-4 times your 8 a day.  I’m not pre-diabetic.  I’ve never had an adverse reaction or electrolyte imbalance.  I started drinking lots of water in college when I battled the freshman 20 (I am an overachiever in EVERYTHING) and heard how good it was for losing weight.  Then it kind of just morphed and ramped up.  It’s possible it’s even a bit of a social crutch.  Can’t think of anything to say?  Suck on a straw and nod!  But as much as Drs have not found anything bad associated with this phenomenon, I’m not seeing much good to it either.  I fill up on water so much I don’t think I have a healthy gauge on what an empty/full stomach feels like.  And at some point I’m just wasting water – the extra liters than go right through me PLUS the flush it takes to get rid of it.  So I want to limit myself to 4-5 liters a day.

More Music.  Once upon a time I owned a 51-rack CD player.  The stereo was set up near the front door and I didn’t have cable.  Instead of mindless TV as background noise, I hit “shuffle” and heard discs physically rotating from song to song.  Now I own an old generation iPod Nano that has no off switch and a sound system that doesn’t support charging.  It seems every time I think to hook the two up, the Nano is out of juice.  I’m going to get better about charging it or get a new system that will eliminate this problem.  Also, thanks to a generous Christmas gift card, I am buying 1 new song a week for my running/workout mixes.  I should also resolve to sync the nano/computer/iPhone more often so I share this music.  OK.  Done.

Less recycling.  Again with the bizarro world resolution.  But this is also about more reducing and re-using.  As I get pickier about the foods we eat, the containers they come in get simpler.  We re-use any plastic bag or bag-like packaging for cleaning up around the house (I am very careful about ripping the smallest hole possible in the toilet paper packaging so it has future use).  I have started saving glass containers to re-use instead of Tupperware.  Our biggest recycling need these days is paper.  Any advice on how to not get junk mail flyers is appreciated.  My biggest waste right now is yogurt containers because my county recycling was created with the concern of food waste rotting in the dumpsters under the FL sun.  So instead of being allowed to recycle plastic by coded number, I may pitch anything in that, “Has a neck.”  WTF?  The hardest thing for me about this resolution means I cannot willy-nilly shop for super-cheap produce at Aldi’s because most of it comes packaged in Styrofoam and cellophane.

More Reading.  And less re-reading.  I have three or four authors I adore and I rotate through their books as bedtime reading.  I also tend to not tackle harder books because I was only reading at bedtime and I need soft, fluffy reading which does not hurt my head mentally or physically when I fall asleep and face plant into it.  I’m trying to set aside some time during the day to read the heavy stuff and to use paperbackswap.com to come up with new material.

Less Email Checking.  I will finally listen to all those productivity experts.  I love, love, love my Smartphone and I believe it has enhanced my life a hundred fold.  Just getting to play a game while waiting for the Dr eases my stress.  And being able to listen to music, track my run AND have 911 easily available all on one device is priceless.  But I have definitely gotten into the habit of checking email way too often.  And for what?  I work part-time.  For my computer-less grandmother.  My husband calls for everything and anything.  My friends text for need-to-know-now information like if I’ve seen a black belt with a silver buckle since that Vegas trip.  Email is a time suck.  I hope to get in this habit now so that when I do land a job I can carry this over when it will mean I’m being more productive.  Versus right now when it means I have more time to watch Netflix.

More Cooking.  More crockpotting.  More new ingredients.  More new recipes.  More menu planning.  As I foray deeper and deeper into the desire to understand where my foods have come from and how they were created, I want to make sure this expands my food experience, not shrinks it.  Over the holidays I had several recipe “crutches” that I just made and remade and froze and reheated.  Yes, they are tasty.  But it got boring.  I am trying to shake up the taste buds.  I also continually get stressed over Friday dinners because I volunteer in the morning/afternoon and am almost always too tired to prepare the planned meal.  If only someone created a special pot wherein I could put ingredients in the morning and they would magically be a meal come evening…Sometimes I astound myself with these little “duh” moments.

So, if we pretend I told you all that at the beginning of January….I am doing pretty well on some fronts.  I used the crockpot on two Fridays.  I’ve made my own pizza crust, scones, and doughnuts.

I’m into Serious Book #2 (Nim Chimpsky).  Yes, most of my serious books will revolve around animals – captive or wild.

Thanks in part I’m sure to my decision to not drink for the 1st month of the year, I haven’t had to do any glass recycling in 2012.  And I’m down to every-other-week on the other recycling.

I’ve sent out 4 birthday cards so far although I did realize one glitch in my plan…I thought it would be a nice way to catch up with people I don’t talk to often.  But then I had my first opportunity to do so and it felt very weird to write all about myself in a card supposedly sent to celebrate the other person.  So I just fell back on writing about how long we’d been friends and awesome, yay, happy birthday.

I have no idea how I’m doing on the water.  I think better.  My main gauge right now is to not re-fill water bottles immediately but try and drink through all of them (I have 3-4) and take note of that before I double-dip for the day.

I need to work on the email checking.  I have no real tangible goal for this.  Do I get to check it at certain times of the day?  Only a certain number of times?  Right now I am going for, “Don’t check email while driving.”  Yeah.  I suck.

My nano is still un-synced for 2012.  But I’ve gotten a little better about charging it and playing it while I’m working around the house.  And I have kept up with  buying myself a new song almost every week.  This week I had to skip because I bought two songs last week.  In a I-must-hear-it-now fit, I downloaded “Domino” by Jessie J last Friday.

I was going to be all snippy and say things like I can bench press you and I may be fat but at least I can do math.

But your skinny ass looked so damn critical and annoyed and unhappy.  So honey, let me back up the snark and say that you don’t need to go to the gym to worry about those things.  Do that in your house.  At the gym, worry about how your body feels.

Hugs,

The pudgy girl sweating buckets on the elliptical who left with a smile on her face because her body felt awesome.

PS.  Get some 34DDs.  With the right bra and shirt combo, you can be 5 months pregnant and look like you have flat abs.

——-

Dear Target,

You disappoint.  And FYI: no one’s interested in bright red food utensils made in China.

Sincerely,

The lady who kept most of her money to give to a different store.

——

Dear Whole Foods,

You do not disappoint.  How much would it cost to let me in after hours, turn on all the bulk spigots, and roll around in it?

Luv,

A woman who is frufru enough to buy quinoa and whole wheat pastry flour but also frugal enough to not pay frufru prices

—-

Dear Shoulder,

What.  The.  Fuck.  I get it.  No more iPhone games until you’re feeling better.  Now feel better.  Damnit.

Yours Truly,

I mean it.

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!

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.

Once upon a time, I started a blog because I had very strong feelings and wanted an outlet for them.  I also had given up writing for years and missed it like crazy.  I enjoyed blog writing a lot.  And even before my divorce was final, I think I had found a voice as a “romance” or “dating” blogger.

Man.  I’d love to go on a first date right now just to be able to wax poetic about it.

But not enough to go through a second divorce.  Even if I did keep my own name this time.

I also gave very little thought as to how…accurate? factual? my blog posts were.  I considered it fiction, based loosely on my life.  I wished to entertain and if that meant I wrote I was devastated when a guy didn’t go for the first kiss when in real life I was nonplussed?  Ah well.  The show must go on.

These days I feel a bit at a loss when I write here.  I’ve gained a husband, but lost a voice.  I want to write well again, not just rush to put something up here because too much time has past since my last post.

So I’m writing every day.  Sometimes therapeutic, sometimes instructional.  Sometimes funny?  But I’m giving myself the space to do so on my hard drive.  Away from the pressure of other eyeballs and mouse clicks.

Hopefully this means posts will get more frequent and funnier around here.  But don’t hold your breath.  It’s only January 9th after all.

1) A gray hair in my EYEBROW.

2) A zit on my chin.

3) A wicked hangover everywhere else.

At least it’s shaping up to be a memorable year.

Tom will actually be home quite a bit these days.  Because he accepted a promotion which puts him back to managing a single warehouse instead of installing/training/maintaining work flow systems on warehouses across the US.

I tried to write about this earlier but it depressed the hell out of me at first.  Accepting a new position now means no hike for us come March.  And as a new warehouse won’t be opening until after 1st quarter (maybe 2nd quarter?) of 2012, it’s feeling unlikely he’ll be ready to let it go and hike come 2013.

It’s not like I didn’t just spend an entire year scrimping, going without, holding off on a real job search, and meticulously planning this or anything.  Oh wait.  I did.  AND I HAVE THE SPREADSHEETS TO PROVE IT.

I have mostly gotten over the crushing weight of a year of my life spent planning for nothing and the dream of completing a spectacular goal with my husband dashed.  Mostly.

One thing I should say is that Tom did allow me to veto this move.  If I had said we have to hike or else, he would have turned it down.  But he had already expressed concern over our financial future with the hike looming and I could not in good faith tell him we’ll be fine and let it go.  That is one “I told you so” I cannot allow him to utter if we become broke and live out of our tent on the AT for good.

Another thing Tom has agreed to, which has mostly brought me out of my funk (mostly), is that I have somewhat Cart Blanche on my 2012.  If I want to not pursue a “real” job and go hike for awhile by myself, he will support that.  If I want to take a job that means I’m traveling M-F, he’ll man the home front as I did the past two years.  As long as we have a financial plan that can support my decision, he’s on board.

Kinda hard to hate the person who’s ruined my life when he’s so nice about everything.  Hurmph.

Right now, we are very up in the air with what and when things will happen.  We will end up moving.  Right now, it looks like just here in FL.  (This is part of the depressing thing for me – I knew this was a possibility and felt the upside would be the chance to move out of the state of sun and sand and back somewhere you could hike under pine trees.)

There is a small chance we could move to north GA, near Atlanta.  This is my preference and kind of Tom’s as well.  (The area we’d move to in FL is not pretty or exciting or in a good location for anything but warehousing.)  He was hand-picked for this FL position and someone else for the GA.  But Tom feels there is a possibility a player may back out and the deck will be reshuffled in our favor.

So…we’re moving somewhere at sometime in the first 6ish months of 2012.  I may or may not still attempt some kind of long hike and/or vacation and/or travel.

Basically, everything and/or nothing’s changed!  Merry Christmas!  (Oh right…I was going to write about our holiday plans.  First Christmas we’ll celebrate with my inlaws!  I asked what I could make to participate in the big meal and they requested a 3-ingredient appetizer that is Tom’s speciality and not mine and 1 of those 3 three ingredients is a meat I don’t eat!  If I don’t report back, please post bail to HickTown, GA!)

It’s a small, fairly well-off neighborhood.  (As in, I believe our neighbors wish our condos were not dragging down property values).  And while I chose to buy here in part for the locale and ease of commute to several Bay area destinations, it’s not really feasible to get from here to anywhere by foot.

By the time I had decided what I wanted to do to help this person out -left a ziplock bag with clean socks, a clean shirt, some wet wipes and fast-food gift cards under “his” bench- he had figured out his daily commute from our safe park to where ever was not worth it.  A few days later, I retreieved the untouched goodie bag.

This is not something I would have done in Chicago.  Growing up, I saw a homeless person in my neighborhood every day.  Several times a day if I went somewhere besides around the block or school.  I did carry some change to hand out and supported Streetwise.  But moving from Chicago to a tourist destination meant the homeless in my area were no longer in my face on a regular basis.  FL cities do a lot to make sure people looking for the Disney experience don’t experience pan handlers as well.

Because of this, when I see someone on a street corner with a cardboard sign I almost always give them something.  And I make a point of taking off my sunglasses, looking them in the face, and asking if they are having an OK day.

Yes, it makes this little privileged white girl feel like she’s really…connected…with this soul who wants her dollar.

For what it’s worth, I started doing this because of the positive response and handshakes I received each time.

But this guy sleeping in my neighborhood…he really made me think about wanting to make a real difference to someone.  Making a real difference in a 30-second interaction because I have already committed the other 23 hours, 59 minutes and 30 seconds of my life to making a difference for animals that cannot hold a cardboard sign and are usually dead when by the side of the road.

This brought up many discussions with friends about what to do for a panhandler and the unfortunate substance abuse that often goes along with being down on your luck.  Does handing someone a few bucks equate to handing them their addiction?  And is that our place to judge?

The end result is that for over a year, I have carried in my car’s middle console 5-dollar gift cards to the most established fast food restaurant in our area.  This ensures the receiver must purchase food (or be savvy enough to trade it for something else).  The receiver gets enough from me for a meal – I know if no one else stops for that person all day they will have one meal.  This also ensures I have a conversation with the receiver – I am upfront with what I have on me and give them the option of accepting or not.

I also usually have in the car somewhere a new clean T-shirt and new socks, but I have never had an instance where the stoplight was long enough to determine if those would be welcome additions as well.

Even though I am a little privileged white girl, just giving away five bucks willy-nilly needs accounting in our budget.  I mean, I don’t even get Tom a lotto ticket every week.  So he was a participant in the discussions that led to this decision.  He agreed with my solution and as the primary driver on our weekend errands has given away more than his fair share of cards.

Today, coming home from a way too involved and time consuming but enjoyable afternoon with friends at a street fair, there was someone with a cardboard sign at our turn from US 19 onto Ulmerton.

Me: I can’t read what his sign says from here….We have one card left, do you want to give it to him?

Tom: Yes, I think I do.

Me: Don’t forget to ask him if he really wants it.

Tom: I know, I know.

(It’s possible I say this EVERY TIME Tom gives out a gift card.)

The gentleman came over, hurrying with a limp (affected or not, who knows).

Tom explained what we had to offer.

The man’s eyes lit up like we offered him his weight in gold.

We had enough time to watch him limp back to his post (we were several cars into the lane, so it wasn’t safe for him to dally by our side).  He turned his back to the line of cars and unraveled the package, clearly excited.  (I wrap each card in its receipt.  I do not want the restaurant to have a reason to deny the person.)

Me:  Thank you.  I’m so happy you are on board with this.

Tom:  Baby, we work hard to be kind to all the animals.  That should include people.

Ahmen.

But one thing that is always, always, always true is that I’m not one to read instructions.  I have personality testing and years of extra screws from build-your-own-furniture kits to back me up on that one.

And I have the beans.

Today, fed up with the ingredients on a can of beans that were other than “Beans”, I bought dry beans to cook for the first time ever.  (Besides lentils, which I only started cooking this past year.)

I knew you could not just throw them into your tofu-Mexican-mix and chow down minutes later.  (I suppose we could call it tofu- fajita-less-fajitas, or tofu-taco-less-tacos.  Or bunch-of-veggies-with-some-tofu-crumbles-and-Mexicanish-spices-to-be-eaten-in-a-bowl-because-I’m-not-wasting-100-calories-on-a-wrap.  You get my drift.)

I had heard of soaking beans overnight before cooking them.  I have a vague memory of watching my father or Tom doing such.  I’m probably remembering some movie scene, but whatever.  Point is, I knew I should read some directions.

And I did!  I read that I could soak them over night, or I could bring them to boil for 2 minutes, then let them sit for an hour.  It was about 4:15, so plenty of time to get my beans good and soaked before dinner.

At 5:32 I became concerned with the…crunchiness…of said beans.  (A mixture of black and pinto, if you are curious.)

I was so concerned that as the mushrooms, onion, and bell pepper sauteed just a wee bit longer, I pulled out the bean packaging and read some more.

It turns out that after the soaking instructions, there are COOKING instructions.  Which include another hour or TWO in some more hot water.

Thank goodness I was prepared.  I may not read instructions, but I do a mean grocery trip.  Along with beans, mushrooms, onions, tofu, and bell peppers, I also bought wine.

This post is courtesy of my first glass.

Gotta go check the beans.