Playing in the Shambles

I’ve always loved Tuesdays. Well, maybe not “always”. A friend of mine in high school once told me he was convinced I “didn’t exist on Tuesdays”, because he never saw me on that day. I liked that idea.

Mom’s told me before, “I like Tuesdays. I once said to (her own) Mother, `I must have been born on a Tuesday,’ and she said, `as a matter of fact, you were.’” Myself, I was born on a Saturday, and Tuesday and Saturday are my two favorite days, as it happens. Of course, who doesn’t grow up watching Saturday morning cartoons and not love Saturday? Not to mention, of course, the break from school.

Today makes twelve weeks tobacco-free (although not nicotine-free; still chewing the good old nicotine polacrilex). I went ahead and weighed again today (at Winn-Dixie, as usual) and came in at a little under 222 lb. I guess Saturday’s weight was the anomaly, not the week before, so that makes me happy.

I bought some New Balance sneakers from JC Penny Penney yesterday. The $25 AMEX gift card Linda gave me for Christmas came in handy for that (thanks, Linda). So I wound up with the shoes I wanted for less than $30, and I love them. Now I won’t have to walk my Rockports to pieces. The walking thing has become like an addiction.

At the center point of my usual route (and thanks to Coleman for that one), there is a circle, and as I approached it today I wondered if I should take it clockwise or counter-clockwise. I usually do the former, but yesterday I did the latter. I was wondered if I should alternate or not (I continually think about such dumb things), and had just decided to swing right and take it counter-clockwise, when a little cat saw me and approached in that not-at-all-shy way cats who are loved can have. After a few seconds of get-acquainted, she (maybe, I didn’t check) let me pet her and decided she liked that a lot. She practically climbed up my leg when I stood, and it was hard to walk past her; I had to break into a jog to get away. After I rounded the circle, I didn’t see her at first; then there she was, off in the brush on the shoulder, and another little cat, a tabby, was there as well. It was a neat encounter, and lifted my spirits; not to mention, it’s been another beautiful day.

I feel like I should write something else, but

Wow, I slept until 3 PM. That’s what I call Easter!

Actually, Gary suggested that last part. He’s over here now.

A quick update, just to let everybody know where I am:

Weigh-in today, 225; two more pounds than last week. About what I expected, really; I weighed the same Thursday, when I took Mr. Mix to his doctor’s appointment. Weight can be a little up and down, and I think that 223 was really on the low side; plus I did splurge a little this past week. We’ll see what happens next time.

I did take a nice, long walk today; walked yesterday, and the day before that, and I think the day before that; it was Monday and Tuesday, I guess, that I was a lazy ass, while gorging myself on brownies and whole milk.

(I don’t even mind skim milk; it’s the milk I normally drink. Why did I think I needed whole milk to “complete the experience”? What a boob I can be.)

I also, finally, after months, set up the rowing machine I bought from Mr. Mix and began using it. I think I like it.

I cleaned my (double) kitchen sink and washed a whole load of dishes for the first time since Mr. Mix went to the hospital. That was the evening of February 7th, so it’s been over six weeks since I’ve done more than just wash a thing or two for the current meal and maybe the next one. The bottoms of the sink were, er, really ripe. Some hot water, bleach, and soap fixed all that, though. Gotta love stainless steel.

My clutter is still horrible but I am working through it, slowly. I just have to accept that it’s going to be with me a long time. Two or three years ago (I’m forgetting already), I did major spring-cleaning and got everything. You couldn’t tell it now (actually, you could, as it was super-horrible before; it’s just horrible now). I know that it isn’t so much “do it and get it done” as it is being consistent. Doing it and getting it done is fine, but only if the habits are in place. Learning good habits, establishing them and being consistent, seems to be what’s working for me these days.

It’s been 81 days through yesterday since I have used a tobacco product. I’m still chewing the gum, though I’m now (just) beginning the process of slowing down on that. I hope I can break free of nicotine sometime this year. I am eyeing my birthday, but that’s only a little over a month away now.

Mr. Mix, speaking of 81, turned that age on Feb. 12, the day he was discharged from Sacred Heart Hospital (and went to stay at Bayside Manor for a month). I work for him (FWIW, I am technically a contractor), and it’s been rough at times. I started out seven, going on eight years ago working with his computers, keeping his books, and doing general offfice work. While I still do that, mostly his “job” now is taking care of himself, so my job is mainly to help him with that. Well, I don’t want to blog too much about his business, but I will say that his health is not all he wants it to be.

I did stop by his house today long enough to set up his medication for the week (my sister, Sharon, who is a nurse, happened to be down when he got to go back home last week. She got him one of those seven-day pill boxes, and also kept an eye on him the first couple of days. She is great.) Some of his family took him out for dinner this evening, happily.

I got a little recycling done today, and visited with Linda and the landlord (the owner, actually; the “landlord”, I guess, is the property manager he employs). I’ve eaten light, so far. I’ve drawn a little (mostly erased; I happened to stop by the art supply store and I bought three or four different erasers. An “artist” like me needs about ten times as many erasers as pencils). I’ve worked on some songs a litte, but not nearly enough. Maybe later. I also have some ads to schedule (long story; another of my things-I-do-to-make-money), and so many other things that they’re colliding into each other in my mind as I try to think of them. So never mind. There’s a lot.

Tomorrow is Easter. I’m going to Mom and Dad’s for a little while; beyond that, I don’t know. Easter, I think, is a good time for reflection. I consider myself a Christian and a follower of Jesus, that is to say I try to practice the Golden Rule and all that “love thy neighbor” stuff. I’m not claiming I get it right very often, but again, it’s building new habits, and persistance, that matter. These things pay off in the long run, I firmly believe it.

Just try to imagine how the world would be if every single one of us would just treat others the way we would want to be treated, if we were in their shoes. What if everone tried to be honest, and loving, and cared for each other? I know I’m a dreamer, but seriously, sit for a minute and imagine that world. I’m not trying to steal from John Lennon; I don’t even ask you to drop your religion. Just don’t let it get in the way of what’s really important. I may be wrong, but I really believe that’s all Jesus was saying to the Pharisees.

What if we each just did our part? For myself, I believe I don’t have to get it right, right away; I don’t even have to get it completely right ever in my whole life (as if I ever could). I just have to keep trying, keep improving, and throw myself whole-heartedly into the art of becoming a better human.

I don’t know if I’m right, but this is what I believe. All I can really do is do my part, and encourage you, my brothers and sisters, to think about doing the same. Of course, I’m an empty kettle if I have nothing but words, so for the most part I intend to keep my mouth shut and just get to work. Still, I felt like writing this, so here it is. Use it in good health, anyone who may happen to read it; and remember, love comes before anything else.

By gum, yes, today (or maybe tomorrow) I intend to have a massive slice of chocolate cake and maybe a quart of full-fat milk. Yes, it will set me back but that’s what I want for my celebration; and why shouldn’t I celebrate?

Today is the 18th of March, which means, since it’s a leap year, that there have been 77 days in the year through yesterday (31+29+17=77); and that means it’s now eleven weeks I’ve taken my air sans tobacco, thankyouverymuch. On top of that, last Saturday’s weigh-in put me two pounds below 225, a long-time goal and the first time I’ve been there in a couple of decades.

So, yes, I feel a slight celebration is in order. Soon. Very, very soon. But time now for a sensible lunch. Hey, 223 is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live here. It sure beats 280, though.

I guess it’s time to admit to the whole world that I shop at Wal-Mart. I do. Sometimes. Quite a bit, really. I get a large percentage of my groceries there. It’s the prices, dammit. I can so relate to that South Park episode.

I also guess that by now you can tell I’m a little guilt-stricken about it. I’m not sure why. Well, I do have some idea, but I’m not quite sorted out on all the issues. Feel free to bombard me with email and/or comments. It would sure beat the steady diet of spam, spam, spam this blog gets. (You don’t see it because I delete it. My spam deletion skillz are mad.)

So anyway, I was in Wal-Mart a couple of days ago and I bought a couple of pears; a d’Anjou and something new (to me), referred to by the sign as an “asian pear” and by the rather large sticker as an “apple pear”.

Now, I love pears. Love them. In the last few months pears, along with grapes and a few other things, have become items of very special desire to me (as far as food goes). There are actually particulars behind this, some very complex psychological stuff that, trust me, you don’t want to know about. Anyway, I still love my d’Anjous, Bartletts, Boscs, Steckels, and all the rest, but this–this, my friends, this is the fruit you get served once you’ve stepped inside the pearly gates. This is the shit you win a lady’s heart with–if she has any kind of taste, anyway. Okay, I’m going overboard, and taste is taste. It may taste like crap to the lady of my dreams and that would be okay. I can’t imagine it, though. This thing was awesome.

Man, I love food. It’s not just all cheeseburgers anymore. Although the Big Buford I had for lunch absolutely rocked. Once in a while, there’s nothing quite like Checkers.

(*With apologies to Kirsty MacColl for the title.)

223 lb today. On the one hand, it’s only six pounds since December 22nd; on the other paw, it’s three pounds in two weeks. Anyway, it’s only of limited value to compare things pretty closely, since weight seems to fluctuate with fluid, muscle mass, the amount of, er, mass in one’s gut (I would assume), etc. Still, this is the lowest value in some 23 years, I would imagine.

I feel much better physically, these days, and also this, even though it’s just a less-than-totally-meaningful number, really encourages me. I hurt a toe about ten days ago (by tripping on a telephone wire I had, stupidly, stretched across the floor). For a solid week I couldn’t take a walk (or really “walk”, though I could limp and shuffle). The last couple of days I’ve been able to walk again and have made the most of it, but I was really expecting to be closer to 230 or 235. Then again, I’ve felt “thinner”, and less bloated. I definitely feel more fit. I’ve even broken into a jog here and there. Oops, out of time. If I have a chance I’ll babble on about the positive snowball effect later.

…not that kind of gay, not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Where’d “not that there’s anything wrong with that” come from, anyway? I’m guessing a TV show, or else a movie, either one of which means the odds of me being in on the ground floor are small.

Anyway, my life is busy. There’s been so much going on lately, but to try to catch it all up right now would just take way too long, and be way too long. It’s a consequence of not blogging much, I guess.

Also I’m kind of tired. By the time I get to this–well, no biggie. I still haven’t figured out exactly what I want to do with all this.

Speaking of being tired, suddenly I don’t feel so tired. Well, no wonder. It’s a few minutes after midnight. That’s usually the way it goes.

226 lb. today. That’s the least I’ve dragged onto the scales in almost twenty years, I reckon.

On the other paw, it’s nothing to crow about, because I’m, like, not even 5′ 8″. Sorry ladies.