Workout Update - 5/21 - 5/27

Let me just say that I was none too pleased that my tight-jeans seemed to be my super-tight-jeans when I put them on this morning. As in, almost decided not to wear them tight. But I persevered. And it will pay off in the end, because here's my workout summary from last week:

5/21 - 35 min and 2.51 miles

5/22 - 35 min and 2.65 miles

5/23 - rest

5/24 - 35 min and 2.82 miles

5/25 - 35 min and 2.96 miles

5/26 - 35 min and 3.01 miles

5/27 - 35 min and 3.11 miles

That's a total of 17.06 miles and 210 minutes on the treadmill last week, woohoo! I've been doing walking for a minute at 4.5 mph, then running at 5.5 - 6.5 mph for a minute. Early in the week, I was walking for two minutes, then running for one. Toward the end of the week, it was walk/run in minute intervals. It was a little exhausting - I am not sure what I'll be able to do this week, but it is fun to push myself!

Besides the treadmill, I also worked out on the machines for 30-45 minutes each time. I am not keeping track of that, yet, anyway. My approach is that I must use at least four machines, and I typically do three sets of 10 of whatever. I do 100 abdominal crunches on the machine every time, too. Other than that, it's whatever machine looks interesting at the time. :)

My 13yo daughter happily joined me for every single workout. She does 35 hard minutes on the elliptical. Isn't that funny - she loves the elliptical and hates the treadmill. I do a couple minutes on the elliptical and I am EXHAUSTED. Well, I haven't tried the elliptical since rejoining the YMCA, but that was my experience in the past.

My 11yo son joined us for the last several workouts. By Sunday, he was begging not to go. His legs are sore. This is how he tried to avoid joining us on Sunday:

Alli and I told him to suck it up.

I finally dragged his whiney butt out the door and he was able to do the treadmill. I hope his attitude improves, because I have to say, with Alli and I cheering each other on, it is much more fun to head out the door to work out. Blake was "playing around" about not wanting to go, but it was tiresome. I need more enthusiastic work out partners, haha. He'll be glad he did it: football conditioning starts next week. Now THERE'S a work out for you, buddy! Twenty minutes on the treadmill will look like a stroll on the beach.

Treadmill Adventure, Day Two

Well, maybe they won't be the most interesting blog posts, but you know, at least it's something if I update on my progress. :)

Yesterday my daughter and I went back to the Y. I did 35 minutes on the treadmill and logged 2.65 miles. The day before was 35 minutes and 2.51 miles, so I upped my overall pace a bit. I ran a few intervals of a minute or two at 5.4-5.6 mph, and did the rest somewhere between 4.1 and 4.5 mph. It felt good. :)

My hips and butt are sore, but not horribly so! I'm walking a little funny, haha. I think I must look a little like a Weeble Wobble, but I don't fall down, either. Yet.

My 13yo daughter, herself quite overweight, also did the elliptical both days for 35 minutes. Very proud! I'm going to Greg's house tonight, but I've already promised her we'll be back at the Y tomorrow and every day this weekend. Err, if we don't go out of town this weekend. I'm a bit on the fence. I'm tempted to chase the sunshine in Eastern Washington. In the past, when we've done the Y, she's a willing participant, but it's always me that stumbles on commitment. I told her she has every right to ride me to take her there, that she's dependent on me and can reasonably expect me to take her as often as reasonable.

My 11yo son will be joining us at the Y, and I told him I want him to do the treadmill in anticipation of football season. Can you believe football conditioning camp already starts on 6/5? That's 90 minutes of hard physical, but not football, training two times a week. After school gets out, it kicks up to daily workouts before football practice starts. Anyway, he wants to use the machines, but I told him he should work on his cardio and running. He does not run with a great sense of urgency, haha, even during football, which is his absolute passion.

So yes, my baggy skin and I are going to stay with Greg tonight. In a switch from our past practice, I'm only staying one night, when I would have otherwise stayed the next two kid-free nights. We're shaking things up a bit to accommodate his daughter, who is a good kid who treats me well, but did tell her dad that it is uncomfortable having me around so much. The way I explained it to Greg is that they have not been divorced all that long. From her perspective, she moved out and then moved back into the home that not too long ago she shared with her parents, and now there's a new woman there almost half-time. It's got to be pretty unsettling for her. I said we can dial it back and let her get used to it.

It's good for me, too. Before she moved in, the time I was with him at his place was kid-free time. That changed dramatically after she came back. Now it's like playing house with someone else's family. Odd and disconcerting to me, too. It will take some time for all of us to get used to it.

In yet another monkey-wrench, Greg's work schedule was changed suddenly, unexpectedly and most inconveniently. He now works Sun - Thu instead of the nice Mon -Fri shift. (Here, I typed a bad word instead of "shift," I have to think that wasn't an all too subtle Freudian slip, haha.) Oh, wrinkles, wrinkles! That will be another tough one to overcome. It will be challenging: spending less time together to accommodate his daughter, having less time available to spend together because of the new work schedule, plus hoping that little homebody finds the motivation to see me outside of convenient sleepovers at his place. I suggested that we go on proper dates...gasp!! This to the man who is king of his castle, haha. We've had a few interesting turns show up in the path, but I think we'll be okay. We'll see. :)

POSITION OF STRENGTH

(Please read that in your biggest monster truck rally announcer voice complete with echos)

I put yesterday's crazy lady to bed. I've been thinking about WHY I am so easily rattled after making such progress and coming so far on this weight loss journey.

It is because I am a competitive bitch and there is no one in the world harder on me than myself when I don't feel like I'm "DUH...WINNING" to quote Charlie Sheen.

Since my "surgiversary" (still hate that word but you still can't knock its convenience and appropriateness! Although I'm not saving any time by typing it out, plus a long explanation of how much I hate that word, every time I use it, haha. And yet, here I go again...) I have felt displeased and dissatisfied with my efforts. I am *not* where I want to be in terms of weight loss. I am *not* where I want to be in terms of exercise and physical condition. I am *not* where I want to be in terms of what I eat. And this smoking thing? Really, how freaking ridiculous can you possibly be??

With me unhappy with my current efforts, I am ripe for the pickings for feeling insecure around a new boyfriend. I *hate* this loose skin. Ugh! Wouldn't trade it for all the weight for NOTHING, that's for sure. But that don't mean I don't hate it, baby. There are times when I look at it and think, "Oh, that's not too bad." I can usually get happily side-tracked by all these BONES I've discovered in my body. Or fun things like being able to circle my hands with thumbs touching almost all the way up to my mid-thigh! My hip bones and chest bones can keep me amused and proud for hours. So the skin is tolerable, even if I hate it. But, having naked time with someone new, who you actually want to be turned on by your body rather than terrorized...well, that invites some trepidation.

Which brings me to the POSITION OF STRENGTH (echo...echo...echo). I decided that in order to sort out my own feelings of failure and inadequacy about my slowed-down progress toward my goals, I, uhhh, need to speed up and make progress toward my goals. Revolutionary. Self-help book tour to follow. I'm happy to sign them for you!

Because let me tell you, if I'm busting my butt and making progress toward my goals again...well, I just defy anyone to try to make me feel badly about myself. Because I've got some choice words for you that will roll off my tongue pretty easily, buster.

See, that's where I decided it's really the crazy lady in my head that's been calling the shots here. Oh boy, can I self-flagellate with the best of 'em. Do you know how much I *hate* being *this close* from my goal and not making it? Do you know how much I hate being this close to goal and seeing that, oh, this isn't really what I want - I've got a ways to go - and STILL not be making that first goal? Crazy lady lets me beat myself black and blue over it (figuratively, not literally, haha) but doesn't throw my ass into gear and get the job done.

Wow, that's like 57 paragraphs to tell you I re-activated my YMCA membership yesterday. BAHAHAHA!! Uhhh, I could have saved us all some trouble by titling the post "I finally reactivated my YMCA membership" and then posting "I used the treadmill for 35 minutes."

The end.

BAHAHA! Oh, that's not how I roll, and you know it. I've still got another 57 paragraphs in me, see below.

POSITION OF STRENGTH: Immediately after work, I grabbed my daughter and took her to the Y, reactivated that membership and got my bootie on the treadmill. Here is what was so EXCITING!!! Back in the day, I was PUSHING it to speed walk at 3.5 mph. I may have to do some research to see when I was last at the Y using the treadmill regularly.

Oh, 3.5 mph...how slow you are for a little speed demon such as myself. Wow! I consistently had that puppy at 4.5 mph and above, generally fast walking at 4.8 mph and here's the thing...RUNNING a few intervals (of just a couple minutes each) at 5.4 mph! ME! Hahaha, it is has been a LIFETIME since I ran. And boy, did I have to ease myself into it yesterday, because...why don't I run? I do not like to look stupid, that's why. (SRSLY, what a joke that is, because in many other areas in my life I have *no qualms* about looking stupid. Who was just limboing at the front counter in the office yesterday? Uh, me, that's who.) But exercising - wow, there's where all my self-confidence and self-esteem goes to die, because before this girl starts running on a treadmill, she is surreptitiously looking around to make sure no one is watching. Then she's easing into it. Then she's watching to make sure boobs and belly aren't bouncing too much. And you can bet she doesn't let go of the bar, because this girl ain't gonna fall on the treadmill in front of everyone.

It's the same reason I can't bear to go over and work out with the free weights, even though what I really want to do is work out with the free weights. Someday.

Oops - losing my POSITION OF STRENGTH here! I *KILLED* it on the treadmill yesterday! 35 minutes (incl 5 min cool down) and 2.5 miles. So I had a nice pace going. I played around with my speed a fair amount. I made myself run one three-minute interval. I feel like a GANGSTA when I finished. (Why a gangsta? Oh, who knows.)

Alli has already texted me asking if we can go to the Y tonight. I texted back, "Be ready." My stuff is already laid out waiting for me. Oh, and I can walk today, haha. I feel it in my hips, but not badly.

Here's a new trick my sleeve and body are using to get me to stop eating too much. Headaches. This morning I had a hard-boiled egg, which I felt compelled to eat since I crushed it, hot, in my purse this morning while FLYING to the bus, which was patiently waiting for me at the corner. What I really wanted, though, was the Morning Star Farms veggie sausage I also brought. So I ate both. And have been blinded by a headache ever since. My body will do any number of things to try and get my attention, haha. "STOP OVEREATING," it says. "We hate it when you do that. See?"

Girl, You're a Head Case.

Howdy, and thank you all for your wonderful sweet words of support and kindness. You are awesome!

I've been thinking a lot this weekend, and I have to sort out how much of my bad feelings are self-induced. See, I'm a nut job. There, I said it. Now you know, if you didn't already.

A couple things:
- I was *blindsided* by the end of my 18-year marriage. It's been a few years, and I'm past it, and I was the one who pulled the trigger on ending it, but wooboy, did that one sneak up on me. And the major scar, which is itchy so I know it continues to heal, is trust. I believed my X when he said he loved me and we'd be together forever (uh, right up until the day we weren't) so I have some serious trust issues. Not that I'm not worthy of love, not that I don't deserve it, etc. It's just very difficult for me to imagine someone actually being there for me, for the long haul. Conversely, it's hard for me to imagine committing to someone - but that's more because I do not EVER want to feel so stupid and foolish and PLAYED as I did when X and I split. My heart has an electrified barbed-wire fence around it, and I know it.
- As a result of this, with Greg, I am always considering him with one foot out the door, even if it's not true. All these little bumps in the road, these few months we've been seeing each other - you don't know HOW MANY times I've thought, "well, that's it, I won't be hearing from him again." Many, many times. He has never actually once alluded to us splitting up. I have to be very careful about the voices in my head. :) They are constantly out to sabotage me and my happiness.

So. When it comes to loose skin and weight loss, I have to be super-careful to honestly see what damage HE'S doing to me (which is probably none) versus the damage that I am doing to MYSELF.

Just the facts:

- Shortly after we started dating, after the first naked time, he did ask me if he could ask me something without hurting my feelings. He asked me about the loose skin; whether I had gotten it from losing weight too quickly or because I had lost so much weight. I dodged the questions - I don't think I told him about the surgery at that point, and I did talk about genetics, age, etc. I did not tell him how much I'd lost. I'm sure he wanted more details, I was not willing to provide them. I asked him if it bothered him, he said, "A little."
- Then there was the night I locked us out of my house, and my landlord fussed over me so much when we picked up the key. I told him I'd had WLS. He asked specific questions but did not say anything judgmental or hurtful (he never has). He told me about a woman he worked with who lost over a hundred pounds after WLS.
- We have talked a couple times about my planned plastic surgery. He requested big breast implants. :)
- The other night...oh shit, I wish I had a tape recording of that conversation. I remember being so upset inside, but when I replay it in my mind, he didn't say anything. Weight loss came up. He asked me specifically for the first time how much I've lost. I told him. He made comments like, "That's a lot of weight on a 5'3" frame," and "do you know how you ended up gaining so much weight?" and "I can see how that kind of change in weight could really affect a marriage." I told him that I have come to believe that I was very unhappy in my marriage, but on paper it was a "good marriage" to a "great guy" and thus, I came to believe that it was all my fault that I was so unhappy, when everything was so "wonderful." I told him that I had never contemplated divorce, I truly took all the blame myself and was stressed and depressed. We also talked about the fact that I was in a tremendous amount of chronic pain from a back injury I would later have fixed. (That was in 2004, but I didn't lose any weight afterward, even though I was out of pain.)
- I showed him my weight loss pictures. I did not watch his face when he looked at them. He said a couple things like "what a major difference," and "what an accomplishment, you deserve to be proud of yourself." He did not say it with big smiley happy faces floating above his head while holding out a balloon bouquet, which is apparently what I needed in order to not have his words cut like a knife.

That's the extent of our discussions about weight loss and loose skin. Clearly, he's not verbally abusive, haha. And obviously, I carry around a tremendous amount of self-defensiveness and hurt about this issue. By now, he is figuring out what a nut job I am, because after this conversation, I'm sure he found it a little surprising that I was getting up leaving his bed to go home, saying things like "I am done apologizing for the weight loss and loose skin." He is not my cheerleader with this weight loss. He's a very direct and to-the-point person, anyway, not the cheerleader type. But looking back at what was actually SAID, he hasn't said anything wrong. He's asked specific questions about a subject that makes me squirm, and makes me unhappy to talk about.

I'm not defending him - I really don't know what I'd be defending him from. For his part, maybe there is a vibe there that I'm picking up on. He certainly does not give me giant hugs and exclaim, "I'm so proud of you! I would love you at any size or any skin condition!" It's interesting that my X never, ever said a word about all my weight gain (going from roughly 135 pounds to 263 pounds over the course of our marriage). I'm pretty sure Greg would not be mum on the issue, haha. And isn't that something I lamented when X and I divorced? Had X not loved me enough to give me a reality check?

There might be a vibe from Greg, but there might not be. I'm a head case, remember. I've been doing nothing but self-sabotaging this relationship from Day One. In my mind, he's broke it off one million times. I'm horribly insecure about relationships. There's been days where it's been awhile since he's texted and I have truly thought, "Well, I won't hear from him again." For no reason whatsoever. He's not cheerleading my weight loss, but he's certainly not bringing it up or making offhanded comments or observations or the like. He brought up the issue, which put it on my neuroses-radar to obsess over.

He doesn't like it, I'm sure. He wishes it were otherwise, I'm sure. I don't expect him to love me unconditionally, loose skin or no loose skin, because we've only be dating a few months and it's not TIME for unconditional love. I do think of it like falling in love with someone with a big port wine stain on their face, or some bad case of eczema or something. Like it or not, it takes some getting used to. Like it or not, my body clothed is very different from my body naked. It's fair to have to take some time with it.

There were a couple other issues that night - oh Lord, was it ever a crap night. His nearly 15-yr-old daughter (who just moved back in with him f/t, you may remember) is struggling with me being there so much. (I've been staying there pretty much whenever my kids are gone, which is half the time.) Before she moved back in, I predicted this would be an issue and he was sure it would not be. It is. He sees that now, haha. He was stressed because she has been asking and asking when I am coming, how long I am staying, etc. I was stressed because honestly, I've not been looking forward to going down there nearly as much since she moved in. She is definitely crazy about her daddy and hangs around us constantly - my own 11yo son, who is crazy about Greg, is constantly on my lap when Greg is around. :) It's a subconscious kid-territorial thing, I get it. I have wished that my son would just pee on me to mark his territory and get off my lap, haha. Anyway, that night we talked briefly about that issue, too.

I have another issue that I just cannot even write about, but that's the crux of how this whole ugly night started. Puts me very much in a defensive issue and ripe to be hurt. And now, when I look back on it, I don't even know how we went from spending a quiet evening together (granted, I was already in a bad mood) to me storming out in the middle of the night, practically tossing his birthday cake and prezzie at him (his birthday was the next day). I have to admit that most of it was due to the crazy lady in my head. No voices were raised, no ugly words were used. True to my incredibly unfair way of arguing, I threw in unrelated accusations about things we had never discussed (e.g. "you were not kind to me on the phone this afternoon" and "you have been stopping doing nice things for me"). Ugh, I can fight dirty, bringing new things to the table, much to everyone's surprise.

The point of all this is that as I ponder what it is I want him to say to make it all go away, I can't think of what he said to get it all started. I am sooooo defensive about this skin and weight loss. Very easily wounded. I wish he were more expressive, more supportive, but looking back, I truly think that was his only crime. I wish that he had smiled and hugged me and said how impressed he was. But he lost 60 pounds before we met, and I honestly haven't given a thought about being "proud" of him for that - I didn't know him. That's not the guy I know, not the guy I'm dating.

Anyway, he worked a tremendous amount of overtime this weekend and we spent a few hours together in a couple different intervals. Enough time to enjoy each other's company and cuddle up and be happy. No serious talks. It was just what the doctor ordered. And I am still pondering how much I am going to let crazy call the shots, and how much are real issues between us. Thank you again for your love and support. :)

Oooo, You Are Just Within Reach, Goal Baby!

Wahooo! Two more pounds to my first goal. I am thinking of going to a sweat lodge this afternoon, haha. You know I'll be watching what I eat like a super-nutrition-cop! I. WANT. THIS.

I say "first goal" because that's exactly what it is. 140 gets me a "normal BMI." You have no idea how badly I want to be normal in some aspect of my life, hahahaha. But my sights are set a little lower...I *really* want to get to 131.5 so I can say I am half the woman I once was. I am so clever! And you can bet I'll be tossing out that corny joke regularly once I've earned the right to use it. And I *really* want to get into my 120s...I blew past them so quickly on the way up! I'd love to make myself cozy there. I want to be able to say to myself,  "I weigh 120-something." "I'm in my 120s." "I weigh about 120." (haha, you can bet I will round down.)

First things first, though. Let's kill that first goal once and for all. Hasn't my weight loss slowed down to a snail's pace? That's bad eating for you, baby. Who opened the flood gate on sweets? And where in the heck did I even *get* a sweet tooth? Something that has never plagued me before.

Sheila is absolutely right: the more carbs I eat, the more carbs I want. I have been on a carb-free-for-all for awhile now, and it was catching up with me. One day I got on the scale and it said "150.x" and I about lost my marbles. Enough is enough. Granted, I had reached a low of 144, but was consistently seeing the scale at about 146-148. The 150 was at "my time of the month," so it wasn't all bad. But it was enough to scare this little carb monster straight, haha.

Message to myself and other WLS peeps: your bad eating habits don't disappear with WLS. You get a brief reprieve immediately after surgery because you can't and don't want to eat the bad stuff. But then you get complacent, you can eat a little more, etc. And all your demons are waiting right there to party with you. Be vigilant. I would say at about my one year surgiversary, I really started cutting myself too much slack. And you see how that's impacted the scale...these last pounds have been slooooooowwww to come off.

But they're going. And they're going to start leaving at a faster pace now, I command. COMMAND.

You want a dating update? Oy, we'll have to call this one, "In Which Reality Sets In and it is Not Always Fun." We're in a bit of a holding pattern. We jostle issues of child custody and kid-free alone time (IRONICALLY concerning his child, not my three, hahahaha). We hash issues of children not wanting to share their parents (IRONICALLY, again concerning his, not mine). It is a struggle. We'll see.

The lingering issue on my front pertains to loose skin and my resultant attractiveness to said man. I don't know how to write this without making him sound like an asshole. He is not an asshole, he is a really wonderful man. But in this regard...well, let's just say I don't think of him as not an asshole. And I assure you, there are no cutting mean comments, no teasing, no cruelty. Mama don't stand for that.

But how much does mama stand for?

Okay: I *get* that the loose skin is not attractive. I cannot stand it myself. When I am dressed, DAMN, I feel sexy! Well, not always, haha, but I have my moments. Woo baby, there is no one more proud of me than me when I'm really feeling it. Naked? Oy. When I lay on my back, I swear my skin puddles beside me. Ew. So unattractive.

If I can't hardly stand to be with me naked, well, it's not really fair of me to judge someone who is new to the whole thing. I've at least had time to get used to it, and I have the benefit of knowing how far I've come. There's a lot of pride wrapped up in that loose skin, because it's something I've done for myself. It is also something I've done *to* myself, so there can be a lot of regret and wistfulness and sadness wrapped up in it, too.

But those are all the emotions I get to bring about myself, just as part of knowing my new body and knowing my challenges and successes and failures. I don't actually need anyone else adding to my baggage. Greg does not intentionally be hurtful - not at all, not ever - but this skin issue is a tough one. Him for it causing him to not be as attracted to me because of it, me because I don't need someone else rattling my self-confidence or increasing my self-consciousness about it. I've taken to wearing long sleeves all the time to keep my lunch lady arms hidden (this is probably a public service). I have sexy lingerie.

I have not decided where my expectations lie. I have not decided my next course of action. I *totally* get not loving it - I, myself, hate it. And I can't say that if the situation were reversed, I'd be all that excited about it.

I can't even express what he's done or said. Really, there hasn't been much. He flat out asked me the other night how much I've lost. I told him. He is not one of my fan club that jumped in with the "I'm so proud of you!" It was, "that was a lot of weight to carry on a 5'3" person," and "how did you get so heavy?" and "that kind of weight gain could really affect a marriage." Not a cheerleader, in other words. There was also "you should be proud," and a couple other nice things. But more than that, there was confirmation of a vibe I've had...you know I've been uber-reluctant to share details with him about this...seeing the pictures (I showed him my one-year collage) was a detractor in his current attraction to me, if you know what I mean. Exactly as I figured, him seeing the fat version of me negatively impacted his opinion of the current version of me.

Anyway - we are at a crossroads. Buddy, you gotta let this thing go or hit the road. It is what it is. I am planning plastic surgery, but if it's unattainable, we're both out of luck. And honestly, if you don't want to be with pre-plastic surgery me, you won't deserve post-plastic surgery me, the one where I run around naked all the time showing everyone my new boobies. :)

Now, I know all my super-supporters are out there reading this and telling me to DTMFA! (Dump the mf'er already). It's on my mind. But let me tell you: it's a jungle out there. And when you have a man who is in all other regards (well, most other!) a really great match...and you can't bear to see YOURSELF naked in the mirror...it's hard to judge someone for also being troubled by the same picture. I know! I'd be telling me to DTMFA, too! But the reality is - under those wraps, this skin has really been through some damage. It is not realistic to expect someone to blindly love you for the wonderful person you are inside. You get that privilege, maybe, with spouses who are along for the ride. This is an issue that I will face again dating someone else, I assure you. It is a tough subject, because I gotta tell you, Greg is the whole package. He is wonderfully kind and sweet, treats me like a queen, brings so much to the table: he's a damn good match for me. But at what price? I'm thinking.

Kim hates it when I go here. :) I had a long-term lover after my divorce. It was not a relationship of substance. But it was a relationship of great chemistry and friendship. And this man was with me at my heaviest and made me feel like the sexiest woman alive. And he was with me after I lost most of the weight, and he made me feel like the sexiest woman alive. He is the barometer I use when I know the difference in how men make me feel about myself. Greg is a fair ways down the spectrum in terms of how he makes me feel about myself. Same body, very different feelings about being naked.

We'll see. :) In the meantime, let's kick some butt and get these last pounds off. First goal, ready to be slayed!

I'm Hunnngggrrryyyyy

What is up with that?? I've sure noticed an increase in my appetite lately. What a bummer! I am working to keep it in check, but it is frustrating. I've had much more of a sweet tooth, too! The interesting thing about me and my post-sleeve life is that I am getting much smarter about food, haha. Not terribly smart, but smarter. :)

My sleeve is still fairly sensitive, I'd say. Too much sugar, too much spice, too much bread, too much dairy, too much anything and I am not a happy camper. It hurts. It makes me feel nauseous and just kind of gross. Now, Old Julie would have persevered, and even post-sleeve Julie has had to learn some hard lessons about how the same foods will make me feel the same crappy way, every single time I eat them.

Venti-extra-hot-no-water-soy-chai. My luxury drink at SBUX. I redeem my free drink coupon with one of these every time. (I buy an Earl Grey tea every morning and enjoy free refills by the thousands every day, haha. SBUX has my loyalty, but they aren't really making a killing off me. Although I am paying $11.25/week for tea, when a box of the same stuff is about $4. But I'll bet I drink more than a box's worth a week. Probably 4-5 venti Earl Grey's a day. I'm well hydrated.)

Anyway, I can't drink venti-extra-hot-no-water-soy-chais anymore. I could *probably* drink a tall, but I shouldn't even go for a grande. Ergh, do they ever give me a stomach ache. Too much sugar? Too much spice? Dunno. I should stick to my Earl Grey.

(cue Sudden Topic Change)

I had a wonderful weekend away with Greg. I haven't been blogging much lately, but things are going really well! He's a good guy - I'm definitely falling for him. That is a crazy and wonderful feeling for me! It's also kind of fraught with nervousness: if this thing is going to happen, it's going to be an interesting road. Sharing your life as a parent is sure different than starting a new life with someone as a young adult!

We went away for a fishing weekend. I expect there will be a lot of those in my future, haha. He's a big fishing guy, and I'm a big weekend getaway girl. :) That combination works well! We got bunches and bunches of seafood: 23 fish, 60 razor clams, 2 Dungeoness crabs and a whole lotta Cinco de Mayo margaritas. ;) Here's a picture - the stuff in the baggies is Saturday's catch (clams and fish) all cleaned up. The whole stuff on the table is yesterday's catch:

Isn't he cute? And boy, were we tired! Looong, busy weekend!

Greg made clam fritters last night after we got all that stuff cleaned up (I did the clams, he did the crabs and fish). They were delicious! I also had my first crab right out of the shell - wow, have I ever been missing out! Yum.

I am having a really great time with him. It's an interesting journey. :)