Howdy, April! Good to see you so soon, I guess.
As you probably noticed, my whole idea to write more went wahoonie-shaped. It’s just one of those things that falls by the wayside when life gets busy.
Speaking of busy, it’s been a week of change.
First, my husband got a job teaching. Yes, this late in the year. Apparently, the other teacher had been out due to neck surgery and decided not to come back. So the kids had a series of subs – never a good plan, even less so with high-stakes testing looming on the horizon. It was a complete Act of God as far as I was concerned. He’d just lost his job driving and was frenetically looking for a job when this opened up. It’s the first time something has panned out in two years. Love that recession we had and all the rest of the emotional garbage. It does make me wonder if *this* was really God’s plan after all – if it was placing us here. See, I don’t believe in fate, but I do believe in a benevolent God who has plans we can work to fulfill (or that we can chafe against). If this is God’s real plan, I like it, and I’m glad I stuck through the past two years to see this happen.
Second, I’ve been crazy-busy woman. I decided to make more use of my gym membership with the kids and take them to do more activities at the gym together. So instead of chill-laxing at home with a bit of Netflix, we’ve put a moratorium on school night TV and started seeing what all we could do. The rough part has been pushing bed time back to accommodate the crazy. Sleepy people are Not Fun (TM).
Monday – Gymnastics for them, yoga for me;
Tuesday – Swimming (would have been rock climbing but for a wicked thumb crush in the car door)
Wednesday – Rock climbing and then yoga for me and gym childcare for kids
Thursday – nada – just running errands to replace leaky swim goggles
Friday – Swimming
Saturday & Sunday – gardening – high intensity gardening.
Well, when I’ve gotten home every night this week, I haven’t felt like eating, let alone cooking. So I had a grapefruit and some strawberries or grapes. That was all I was up to eating, and the thought of more intense food just revolted me.
The plus side of that was I lost about 12 pounds in two weeks. And I wasn’t depriving myself – I just wasn’t hungry for it. I was not in the mood at all.
For laughs, my husband and I went out to On The Border to eat last night, and I ate as many chips as I wanted before the meal arrived. Then, about five minutes before the food got there, I was like, “I’m full.” And I was. Normally, I can eat basket after basket of chips and still have room for dinner, dessert, and a drink. Last night, I picked at the main course and then boxed the rest of it up to take for lunch Monday. Crazy, crazy.
Tonight, after a full afternoon of high intensity gardening (digging, shoveling, raking, weeding, planting), I just fixed a smoothie and enjoyed a grapefruit. And I’m stuffed.
I don’t plan on doing that forever, but it does feel really nice to put on my skinny pants and have to search for a belt. I realized that I’m really close to making my weight resolution come to fruition. In about 5-10 more pounds, I’ll be at the weight I was when I met my husband, and that’s something I never thought I’d see again.
And now I’m thinking beyond the scale. Now I’m goal-setting for targeting parts of my body that I would like to change. My hip-thigh-glut-buttock of doom is the main target. I’ll just say I’m very gifted in that… regard. Before now, I just thought that targeting a specific area was silly. That it was a pipe-dream for people who were too body-conscious. Now it seems like there’s a purpose. It’s like, if I can control my weight, maybe I can control a part of me that has always been my bane.
Anyhow, I’m just rambling right now.
It’s Palm Sunday – I forgot that, actually, until we got to church and the parking lot was full. It hadn’t been for weeks. Suddenly, we had to park in a different lot. We started going to this Baptist church that had been there all my life, but to which I’d never been. We had always been Methodists. And after years of trying to fit in to a Methodist church and trying to drag my husband to church, I realized he’s still a Baptist. He was raised a Baptist, and he always made disparaging sounds about it, so I didn’t think it was still part of his religious DNA. But was I ever wrong! Since I started going, he hasn’t missed a week. He used to be the CEO of the church – he would go at Christmas, Easter, and One other time. Now, he’s going, engaged, and seems to actually be plugging in. My kids even like it. Dude, if just going to this church is all it takes, I’m so there. I might even enjoy Easter for once.