I'll just throw some stuff out there today:
- I got reprimanded by my first grader's teacher for not signing off on his sticker chart on Monday. Actually, I got reprimanded *and* the instructions were highlighted to aid in my comprehension. :) This is not the first time that happened - actually, any day you miss gets highlighted. I especially love that this sticker chart goes back and forth between my X and me, so both of us get to see the other's failings highlighted in pink.
|Bad mommy. Instructions were clear.|
- My flat new tummy is hawt. :) The scars are significant, but scars have never bothered me at all. Interestingly, I won't be downsizing in jeans and bottoms, I think. Plus jeans and such are fitting differently with these bad ass cycling muscles. On top, I'm mostly in smalls and mediums and that is driven by my bust. I am practicing getting used to this being my new permanent size. Me likey. I think when you have weight loss surgery, they should give you a coupon for post-loss plastic surgery, because this is freaking awesome. :) The current complication is that the scar is really tight. Lots of times I feel like I'm not standing up straight, and when I stretch my back - holy smokes, feel the burn, baby. Ouch.
- Mr. W. is killing me softly with his love. He.is.just.so.into.me.I.cannot.breathe. When we're together - totally awesome. (Well, mostly awesome - he is too into me, then, too, but he is actually super easy to talk to and that hasn't been a problem.) I'm going to break his little texting fingers, however. Stop with all the little affirmations. I-know-you-are-into-me-you-tell-me-every-time-you-pick-up-the-friggin-phone. Karma is biting me on the ass big time with this one, because I *get* how Greg felt with me. "I like you so much, please don't f'ing blow it by liking me this much." This weekend away will be a real test: I will either succumb or we will have a really awkward long drive home, haha. Look for an update early next week (unless I am in jail). I do know that I have a helluva great time with him and then during our time apart I am clenching my teeth a bit. And thinking, thinking, thinking about Lance Armstrong, and what's he doing, and how fun with Lance is uncomplicated and happy, and leaves me wanting more.
This is a really good updated version. Listen.
- Of course, with Lance Armstrong, there is no more to be had - nor would I want it from him. He is goofy texts, solid biking advice and support, and casual grown-up play time. Even once, he blew off plans for a Sunday and I chastised him by text. "Sorry, I'm not a good boyfriend," he wrote back. (*snort*) I told him that letting me know in advance wasn't being a boyfriend, it was being a nice person. (p.s. Lance Armstrong will not acknowledge my birthday - which he could not because to acknowledge, he would have to know...which I'm pretty sure he does not think I *have* a birthday, haha. But we celebrated his 40th in style last September.)
- Between the above youtube video, which I've now listened to 10 times, and I feel this strange urge to go dig up Carly Simon songs (I know it's not Carly Simon's song, but I think I am reverting to my parents' house and my childhood here, haha) and thinking and talking (oh, and I'll say it: missing) about Lance Armstrong, well, this post has completely run out of steam. :)
- I still talk to Lance Armstrong, by the way. I have even told Mr. W. about him, but perhaps I didn't elaborate much beyond his cycling prowess and what a good source of knowledge and support he has been for me. :) LA falls firmly in the category of friend, I really do enjoy him for what he is.
- I'm skipping my Wednesday night ride tonight, ostensibly to pack for the weekend, as tomorrow is my birthday and Mr. W. is taking me out on the town after work. Also because it is raining like cats and dogs. But mostly because I'm spending Thursday - Sunday with Mr. W. and I just need one night of quiet to myself. And I'm a little pissed that I may be doing exactly what I didn't want to do when I started seeing Mr. W. - screw up how much I am loving biking. I'm afraid we might be at the beginning of the end, here...
|Or not. Maybe I'll "change my mind..."|
(This picture is from the original movie "The Stepford Wives," after
she has been programmed to just be the perfect wife and mother the way we're s'posedta be)