Monday, January 18, 2010
Yes, I am good at my stoutness exercises. I am stout, round, and I have found I improve my appetite when I exercise. That Winnie the Pooh was a genius.
My diet is going as well as Pooh's disguise at being a little black rain cloud. I have only walked the dog ONCE since the first.
Today is Monday, so I am going to pretend this is the first of the year because there is just no way it is already the 18th. January is more than half way done. Kaput. Done. I only took my tree down a few days ago because in my mind it is only January 5th or so.
What do you do when you get the blues? I am thinking I am due for a mid-life crisis. Not that I think I am going to live to 104. (Fancy math, huh?) Nor has the Grim Reaper paid a call to fill me in on my day of reckoning. Of course, if HE did show up, I might have a coronary and that would be all she wrote.
I have been blue. In a funk. Not cranky but definitely not myself. I feel like not only is the glass half empty but someone is drinking my half.
I have absented myself from company because I believe that going around in a bad mood is like going around with body odor or bad breath. (My favorite talk show host actually says that...I am totally stealing his line.) I don't want my friends and family to go sniffing around me saying, "Ewwww, bad mood...get a life!" Like people who smell their own armpits.
I am trying to invent a bad mood deodorant. Puppies, kitten, stuffed animals? My personal Teddy Bear, my lovely annoying daughter, has lately made me want to run off to Build-a-Bear and get a new model.
So I have been thinking what I could do to show everyone I have finally lost it, slipped into mid-life decrepitude. Men go out and buy sports cars, which would be my number one fantasy. I love to drive fast. But somehow you just look lame zooming along in a minivan. No cool factor there. I'm too old to run away and be an astronaut and there is no way I'm ready to wear adult diapers.
I think jumping out of a plane and parachuting might be taking it to an extreme and bungee jumping would only make the blood rush to my head and give me a headache. Not to mention I'm a chicken and afraid of heights. I would love to do that squirrel flying with those funny suits. You know, you jump off a cliff wearing a suit that makes you look like a flying squirrel and haul ass down the mountain. But the fear factor strikes again.
I would go on a pilgrimage seeking answers but I also believe in the saying, "Where ever you go, there you are."
I will be exercising this week and trying to see that glass as half full. I just hope whoever was drinking from it didn't backwash.
Posted by Happy Hour...Somewhere at 9:19 AM