Only Nola

Poof

Well, hell... I weighed myself just now and I'm apparently being visited by liposucking gremlins while I sleep. I've lost five pounds or so since Friday. I'm now hovering around 101 or 102. *sighs* I'm the incredible shrinking woman (although hopefully cuter... remember that movie? Lily Tomlin... 'Nuff said).

If I disappear entirely, someone please remember to feed the cats. And kick the one that peed on the carpet..
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Monday Already?

I'm lying on the couch with the ubiquitous cats, wondering how long I can put off going to the gym without a) hating myself, and b) turning into the Sta-Puft Marshmallow Man (two points to anyone who gets that reference). I know it's a necessary evil, as I have to keep these legs in the shape they've become accustomed to, but GOD it's a pain. I miss my trainer. She'd have my ass well and truly kicked into a routine in no time. It was a love/hate relationship, obviously.

I'm rethinking a lot of my life at the minute. Never hurts, right? Yeah, right... 'doesn't hurt' the same way a freaking root canal doesn't hurt. Anyway. Just seems like a good time to do some pondering. Like 'The Thinker', only with better fashion sense and not quite so penis-afflicted.

Speaking of penis-afflicted... why is it the older I get, the more I think men should be filed with FDA as a controlled substance? It's not that I don't have them figured out, it's that I HAVE that's the problem. I swear, if they knew a good thing when they saw it, they'd have to turn in their appendage and become a WOMAN. I think they only get their man-card when they can prove they are able to stick their fingers in their ears and go 'NANANANANANANANA!' If they can do it internally, as merely a mental exercise, leaving the actual ear free of anything other than Q-Tips? Then they get the free toaster to go with it.

Just sayin'...
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Crazy

It's been quite the weekend. Connor rode a go-kart on his own for the first time yesterday. It was cute. I couldn't help but have some memories of other times at the go-kart track, and some different wishes about being able to share yesterday with... well, it doesn't matter, but it was still fun for him, and one of life's little landmark moments for me, watching my baby grow up one more notch.

Connor also now has a black eye. NOT related to the aforementioned go-kart. It was a flying remote that decided to crash-land on his face (an accident via a friend of his and some faulty aim... no fault or intent involved). I wasn't there to see the act, but was certainly there to pack ice for the aftermath. And peroxide and neosporin for the part that BLED. God, a mother freak-out is a thing to behold. Although, truth be told, I held together rather well. And Connor took it like a trooper, surprisingly enough. Another sign my baby is growing up...

Anyhoo. There's a minor update for the minute. I'm holding up, all things considered, and looking to dig my head out of my ass. Pretty sure it's been there far too long. Time to resuscitate my writing, maybe. The blog, certainly, among other things. I still have books that need attention, in their various states of incompletion.

Here's hoping each day gets a little less salty than the one before.

And that I find my humor again before someone feels compelled to shoot me.

A priest, a rabbi, and an atheist walk into a bar...

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Of Course

My heart hurts. I can't write much that's more profound right now. I can tell you that seeing something beautiful and full of promise turn into something shadowed and full of tears is a bitter, hateful thing. And I can tell you grief is something I have earned a PhD in.

Trade you...
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