Couch to 5K

So I'm down 16 pounds and 3 pants sizes. I'm steadily losing 1-2 pounds a week. I'm rather pleased with my progress. That said, I'm not so happy with my current workout routine. Doing 60-90 minutes of cardio aerobics and strength training 5-6 times a week is wearing me out. I mean, the benefits are awesome. I'm still, you know, fat, but I'm toning up and looking a lot less flabby.

Earlier this evening, I passed the downstairs powder room and stopped to look at my reflection in the mirror. It was weird to see the changes.

Me: Dude, I'm, like, tight fat. You know?
Dave: No, I don't. What does that even mean?
Me: I'm not sure. I'm, like, fat, but tighter. See?
Dave: Yes.

I've managed to get Dave on the Get Healthy Wagon. He's not in bad shape or anything, but he knows that daily exercise (just 30 minutes) would greatly benefit his blood sugar control. We've decided to pick up a treadmill sometime this weekend/early next week. A treadmill will make my workouts much easier. I can do 30 minutes of walking then 60 minutes of aerobics/strength training. Or, some days, I can just walk for an hour or whatever. Also, I can edit while walking by placing my manuscripts on the treadmill dashboard thing.

Even with this addition of a treadmill to my workouts, I know I've got to ramp things up if I want to continue to lose weight and increase my stamina. A few of the chicas in my support group are starting the Couch to 5K program. Basically, you follow the walking/jogging/running regimen for 9 weeks and work your way up from slobby couch potato to running 5K in thirty minutes.

I've decided that as soon as I hit 30 pounds of weight loss, I'm starting the program. I'd start this weekend, but I'm a little worried about the extra strain on my joints with all the excess weight I carry. So 14 more pounds and I'm adding running to my workouts. I've already started looking at running shoes and clothes.

Life is becoming slightly surreal. Seven weeks ago, I was that girl who did ANYTHING she could to avoid any kind of phsyical exertion. Now, I'm that nutter looking for new ways to shake up my sweating routines. I used to devour sleeves of cookies and bags of chips and wash them down with leaded Dr. Peppers by the six pack. These days, I drink maybe 2 Diet Dr. Peppers a day, guzzle water like it's going out of style, and eat cookies and chips (one serving only) maybe once a week. I made some pumpkin pies for Memorial Day (Dave loves them,) but I haven't touched them. Each time I consider having a slice, I'm, like, well that's 200 or 300 calories and I could totally have an apple and peanut butter or (insert yummy healthy choice here) instead.

Bizarre, huh? I think it's because I finally realize that I can accomplish this. I mean, yes, I'm not even 1/6 of the way there, but dudes, I'm going to make it. Come hell or high water, I'm losing this weight!

Save the Internet!!!

I'm totally a fan of Net Neutrality. The whole idea of having to pay for (faster or simply any) access to specific portions of the internet is ridiculous. Can you imagine the repurcussions? I mean, yes, I get the Jimmy and his grandmother argument that Mark Cuban (?) used. Namely, Jimmy's need to download a movie isn't as important as the hospital's need to download his grandmother's medical records. Okay. Sure. BUT how do we ensure that if these laws are passed, companies like AT&T, Verizon, ComCast, etc. won't find squirrely ways to screw us? We already know that Verizon practiced censorship of text messages when they kept pro-choice groups from sending text messages to their supporters on the Verizon network. No, I'm not kidding. Here's the story.

How are small businesses supposed to compete with big businesses if they can only afford so-called "slow lane" access? Who the heck is going to sit around and wait and wait and wait for a small business' page to load if they can zip over to a larger company's website that loads super quick?

Blogs are an amazing equalizer in the media field. How are small bloggers going to compete with huge media outfits like CNN and Fox and the BBC if we have to pay for access to users, video and audio sharing, etc?

I could go on, but you get the idea. If you're interested, visit Save The Internet.

That's my do-good for the week. Tomorrow a weight update and the C25K program.

Wordpress & Me

So I've been sitting on a pair of domain names for, like, a year. I seriously need to build a few websites to support my pen names and such. All of my writing buddies were, like, "Hey, just use Wordpress. It's so easy!" So I did.

Except, apparently, I'm an idiot. Seriously. For the past three hours, I've been doing a lot of this: Head. Desk. Head. Desk. Head. Desk.

I capitulate. I'm raising the white flag. I yield to the Oh Great Powers of Wordpress which conspire to humiliate and frustrate me. Done. I'm done.

Any one know a good website designer/builder person?!?!

Adventures In Dog Owning

So Bosley chewed up an entire package of Apri today. (Apri is the brand of birth control pills I take as part of my HRT.) He swallowed 3-4 pills. No, I don't know why. Maybe it's because he's got a bad case of puppy acne and heard me extolling the virtues of bcp's for clearing up my skin. Who knows.

Luckily, the pills are super tiny and low dose. Apparently, it's not a big deal. It happens more often than you'd think. He doesn't seem to be having any side effects so I'm not too terribly worried. Tomorrow, I fully expect him to whine about man boob soreness and throw a few moody temper tantrums.

I'm not sure what we're going to do with Bosley. He's never acted like this before, and it's getting ridiculous. We can't crate him because of the history of abuse and neglect. He loses control of his bladder and shakes violently when he hears metal scraping so crates/kennels aren't feasible. We can't leave him outside because he's not an outside dog, and I don't trust passersby not to tease or hurt him.

I guess it's time for another round of obedience training. Sigh. Back to the drawing board...

Mushaboom

Really, really short post tonight.

Lately, MUSHABOOM by Feist has been heavy in my iTunes rotation. Why? The lyrics really hit home for me, for us, right now. Actually, I'd chance a guess that they describe probably ninety percent of my generation. With outrageous student loans, a crappy job market, insane costs of living, eye-popping gas prices, and nearly unaffordable medical care, it's all most of us can do just to survive. Forget about marriage, homes, and babies. We're screwed.


Helping the kids out of their coats
But wait the babies haven't been born oh
Unpacking the bags and setting up
And planting lilacs and buttercups oh

But in the meantime we've got it hard
Second floor living without a yard
It may be years until the day
My dreams will match up with my pay

I got a man to stick it out
And make a home from a rented house oh
And we'll collect the moments one by one
I guess that's how the future's done oh

Acting Out

So Dave was home for three days. We used the time wisely, running errands we've been putting off for weeks, taking care of routine business, and starting in on our huge list of home improvement projects. We spent most of Tuesday afternoon at Lowes choosing plants and buying mulch, soil, and gardening tools.

Apparently Bosley felt neglected during the last few days, so while we were out, he destroyed the living room. We came home to a ticker tape-esque waterfall of glossy magazine confetti. He focused his frustration on my home improvement/decoration magazines that I'd bookmarked for future reference. Coincidence? I think not.

Bos must have felt some guilt because the second we opened the door he ran across the living room and sat on his tail. Great Danes have extremely expressive faces. He was a perfect picture of guilt and apology. If I hadn't been so pissed, I would have snapped a photo.

Dave gave him the stink face and pointed at the staircase. "Upstairs. Now." Bosley raced upstairs, paused at the first landing, and gave us his best droopy, sad face. Needless to say, Dave kept him in time out for a while. He also didn't allow him into the front yard while we were working. Bos had to sit inside and watch us dig in the dirt--his favorite pastime.

Obviously, Bosley's dependence on me is becoming something of an issue. It's bad enough that he snaps at Dave's man bits when he gives me my morning smooch--and, really, any other time that Dave touches me in an affectionate manner. When I meet friends for dinner or whatever, Bos mopes the entire time I'm away, then acts like a psycho love monkey the minute I walk in the door. If I go back to school, he's going to sulk all the time.

Sigh. Like I need one more thing to feel guilty/anxious about...

Bizarro Fiction

So I completed my first 60 minute workout today. I seriously thought I was going to die around minute 47, but I was like, "Self, just 13 more minutes. Keep going!" And I did. I can't begin to describe the rush of accomplishment I got from reaching 60 minutes. Hopefully, 60 minutes 5-6 times a week will help me bust through my weight loss plateau.

I caught up with La Sara today. We go through these odd cycles of talking all the time or completely ignoring one another. You'd think it would be awkward when we meet back up, but it's totally not. It's very easy to just strike up a conversation. Weird. Cool, but weird.

I've been choosing books outside my usual go-to genres. So far, I haven't been disappointed. In the last month or two, I've picked up two new series and a YA urban fantasy bestseller. Here are my thoughts:

1) The Greatest Hits series by Leslie Langtry. The romance/mystery series revolves around the Bombays, a family of badass assassins just trying to make a normal life out of their whackness. The first in the series is 'SCUSE ME WHILE I KILL THIS GUY, but I couldn't find it at B&N so I started with the second in the serie. GUNS WILL KEEP US TOGETHER is hilarious! It's told from the POV of the hero, Dakota Bombay. My favorite snippet of the novel is when he and his cousin learn their junior high PE teacher, Mr. Skeevy, has died. They reminisce about his, uh, unorthodox ways. Mr. Skeevy spent quite a bit of time in 'Nam so instead of dodge ball, he designed games like "Hanoi Hilton" and "Tet Offensive." He also had this totally effed up habit of putting the starter pistol to his temple and screaming, "Try again, motherfuckers!" before pulling the trigger. Whoa. Totally insane.

2) The Felix Gomez series. Felix Gomez served in Iraq--and came back a vampire. Whacked, I know, but it's actually a pretty nifty setup for a series. He's now a PI who solves these really bizarre (and funny) cases. His novels also have the most awesome titles: THE NYMPHOS OF ROCKY FLATS, X-RATED BLOODSUCKERS, and THE UNDEAD KAMA SUTRA. If you're a fan of urban fantasy and PI novels, you'll like this series.

3) WICKED LOVELY by Melissa Marr. I'd heard quite a bit about this book on lots of the agent/author/industry blogs I frequent. I expected it to be on par with other YA novels I've read in the past, but it far surpasses anything in the genre. It's extremely well-written, thoughtful, and the characters are very real and relatable. Aislinn, a high school junior with The Sight, lives with her Grams (who can also see faeries) in a town south of Pittsburgh. They like it there because the steel helps keep the faeries at bay. Since childhood, Grams has drilled rules of safety into Aislinn regarding the faeries, namely never let them know you can see them. (They have a nasty habit of gouging out the eyes of mortals who can see them.) But, when two very strong faeries (guy and girl) begin to stalk her, all the rules are right out the window. Throw in the wicked (and holy crap is this lady wicked) Winter Queen, some faery court intrigue, and the uncertainty of first-time love, and Aislinn has some seriously tough issues to sort out...

I'm continuing this literary expansion by delving into the Punk and Bizarro genres. My first punk book will be THE CLOCKWORK HEART by Dru Pagliossotti. It's actually steampunk, but, it's still part of the larger punk genre. I also ordered some Bizzaro fiction novels, GRAPE CITY by Kevin L. Donihe, ANGEL DUST APOCALYPSE by Jeremy Robert Johnson, and OCEAN OF LARD (CHOOSE YOUR OWN MINDF*CK FEST #17), an anthology.

We'll see how well I like these new genres...

Sven Says Rest!

Sweating With Sven ended today. I'm oddly saddened. I know I did nothing but complain (to my online writer's groups and Dave-O) during the last 77 days, but now that I don't have the deadlines and the challenge to meet them, I feel sort of lost. I kept a spreadsheet of my Sven progress. I missed 22 days of writing (spread out over the challenge) but finished with a word count of 108k. That means I averaged 1965 words per day of writing. Not too bad. I completed and edited two novellas and logged 66k on my UF novel.

I'm happy with my work, but now what? I want to keep up the pace I've been writing at, but without a challenge (and accountability) it's a bit hard. Meh.

In other news, I finished my edits and subbed them to my editor just after midnight. I was up until fifteen after four this morning working on some plot issues with my UF novel. Blah.

Oh, and this is sooo not work safe, but if you're a lady (or a guy) in need of a thrill, check this out! The Austrian rugby team lost big time to Lithuania (48-0) so, for some reason that made sense to a bunch of (probably) drunk men, they did a striptease in a city square. It's too funny (and hot.) The page is in Lithuanian, but just scroll down. You'll see the clip.

Austrian Rugby Team Striptease

My thoughts:

1) Why, oh, why couldn't this have been the French?!?! Oh, to see Sebastien Chabal in the buff! Swoon!
2) Why, oh, why didn't the woman wielding the camera utilize the zoom function?!?!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Oh, man! I so heart David Bowie!!!

As for my changes, well, first things first. I'm only down a pound this week--but I've dropped another pants size. Wtf? Weird, right? So far the concensus is that I'm building muscle mass (hence the small weight drop) and slimming down. Inches wise, that's definitely what's happening. Still, it's so effing frustrating to step on that scale and only see one pound down! UGH!

Oh, and I was venting my anger at the scale to Dave. His gem of a reply? "The scale at work says I'm ten pounds heavier than the scale here."

OMG! I almost died. I do not want to believe that I actually weigh ten pounds more than I do right now. Yes. Yes. I know that I've still lost the same amount of weight, but I seriously cannot deal with the numbers involved if they're ten pounds higher. I told Ash about this. Her reply? "Yeah, well, you know how those medics are. They all dress like freakin' Batman. Cuz, they're really going to need to rapell off the side of a building or something."

So true. So sadly true. I choose to believe Ash about Dave's sudden ten pound weight gain when he arrives at work.

Other changes. So I'm thinking of going back to school and finishing my degree. OK. I'm not thinking. I'm going to do it. I started looking through my options earlier this evening. Originally, I'd planned to go back and switch to a language major like German or Russian or both, but then I read through the requirements and I'd have to spend a semester abroad. I'm just not willing to do that right now. It's sort of impossible. How the hell am I supposed to complete fertility treatments in another country? And, no, please don't tell me to put off the baby thing until after I've finished my degree. It's not a possibility. We're racing against the clock.

I guess the most obvious major would be English, but I can't imagine sitting through creative writing courses here. I like horticulture and I have a few hort classes under my belt. (I took them as electives when I was a BICH major.) I'm also interested in public health policy and women's studies. So who knows? Maybe I'll do horticulture with a minor in a foreign language or community health with a minor in women's studies. I have a little time to decide. We'll see.

OK. Enough messing around. I really need to get back to work. I have edits due tomorrow, and I've barely made a dent. Yikes!

Es-crewed

Earlier this evening, I had dinner with Layna at Outback. It's the first time I've been to that restaurant in probably six years. Dave hates the place. He refuses to pay twenty plus bucks for dry steak. I had the grilled chicken with grilled veggies and wild rice. It was amazing! I loved it. I didn't touch the rice, though. Good thing, too, since Layna and I ended up having dessert. The portion sizes are huge, but a month or two ago, I wouldn't have noticed. I would have scarfed it down without a second thought. Needless to say, I have leftovers in the fridge for lunch tomorrow.

Now, onto the title...

So Dave and I received our tax assessment from the county. It was shocking. When we started building the house, it was valued at 119k. According to the tax dude (and dudettes, I'm sure,) the house is now worth 165k. OMGWTFBBQ?!?!?! 46k in ten months? That's nuts. The lot alone is worth 25k. For grass and shitty red clay dirt? Insane!

I'm happy that the value has increased. It's nice to have that equity, but this also means we really can't sell/move until the subdivision is finished. No one in their right mind is going to pay 165k for a house they can build for, I think, 130k now. (I haven't looked at the brochures in a few months.)

At the same time, I'm about to have a heart attack. We chose to escrow our taxes and home owner's insurance with our mortgage payment. It just makes things simpler. Of course, the taxes figured during closing are no where near what the taxes are now. We still have time to file our Homestead papers so that will put a 10% cap on the increase. I haven't done the math yet. Also, I have no idea if Chase will recalculate our escrow for the rest of this year. I'm so not looking forward to sitting on the phone all day with them. If we're going to be in the hole when taxes are due next year, I need to know now.

Man! This grown-up crap is soooooo annoying!

Strength in Numbers

So The Ash and I are, like, long distance dieting. It's sort of like long distance dating minus the monthly meet-up for dinner and a marathon of headboard rattling nookie at the Fairfield Inn. We're both motivated by our sudden wifely (and motherly, in her case) frumpiness. What gives? Why is it so easy to slide into a routine of lounging pants and horrid tees once you're married? Well. No more. We are so done with that. She's going to be a hot mama, and I'm going to be a hot wife.

My friend, L., is also jumping on the health wagon. As I mentioned before, I belong to a dieting/PCOS/POF support group too. It really, really makes a difference. Seriously, folks, strength in numbers. I know. It's odd to approach weight loss and sexifying as Roman general would an impending battle against the Dacians, but it works.

Last week was not my best as far as caloric intake and workouts were concerned. AF decided to show up. (What is up with that? Can't she send advanced notice? Here one month, gone four, here for a few days, gone six...) I had lots of salty/sweet cravings. I didn't go over my 1200-1400 daily calorie limit, but I skimped on good food in order to include salty/sweet junk. I only had one workout last week. Not good.

Today, it's back on the wagon. I'm back on my IR diet menu and got in a great workout (50 minutes.) I'm hoping to get back up to 60 by the end of the week. I'm also borrowing Ash's scheduling idea. I need structure. It's amazing what I can accomplish when I'm not screwing around.

Okay. That's it. I need to get upstairs and sort through my clothing for wearable smaller sizes.

Iron Man

Me and my old man went to see Iron Man yesterday evening. I didn't have high expectations. I'm not much of a comic book fan--which is odd since I heart graphic novels. Weird. Anywho.

The movie was awesome! I was gripped from the first scene. (I found the subject of war profiteering and company accountability rather timely considering the political and foreign policy climate we're currently in.) The visual effects are amazing, the storyline is tight and well-paced, the characters are engaging. Hell, even Gwyneth Paltrow didn't bother me--and she usually does. Not sure why, but I can't stand her. It's something about those big, expressionless eyes.

If you want to see a movie this weekend, go Iron Man. Money well spent in my opinion. (Dave and I totally smuggled our own yummies into the theater. We stopped by Wal-Mart, spent $4.75 on water, Reese's Pieces, and chocolate covered raisins. That prolly would have cost us, like, $12 bucks or more at the theater. Ripoff!)

Oh, and just an aside not meant to offend, but seriously, boys can be really dumb sometimes. Outrageously dumb. Annoyingly dumb.

Losing It!

Not my mind. Or maybe that too. Who knows. I mean my weight. Dudes, I have dropped another two pounds this week. I'm now four pounds down in May for a total of 14 since April 1. Holy cow! I'm so doing this!

I'm that girl who starts diets, loses a few pounds, stalls, and then says, "Screw It!" I always, always, always fail. But not this time. I'm kicking my chubby butt into gear. A few people have asked what's different this time.

For one, I stepped out of the shower on April 1 and noticed a few patches of brown skin on my belly, neck, and thighs. I almost crapped a brick. Acanthosis Nigricans! That is one of the first symptoms of developing insulin resistance and Type II Diabetes. OMG. Both sides of my family are rife with diabetics. My father is a diabetic with major blood sugar control issues. My paternal grandfather died from diabetes complications after losing both of his legs. I refuse to go down that path.

After identifying the AN, I pulled on some workout clothes, went downstairs, and hit play on my Slim in 6 DVDs. I almost died, but I didn't care. As soon as I finished working out, I grabbed the IR diet book and decided that if Dave is doing it, I'm doing it. No more cheating. No more excuses. I eat correctly. When I do screw up, I have to admit it to Dave and my support group.

That's the second most important motivation for me, my support group. We're all ladies dealing with the horrid effects of PCOS (and some POF too.) Until you've had PCOS, you can't imagine what it's like. Some women get lucky (compared to others) and have mild cases of the disease. Others, like me (poo!), get the severe cases. I have pretty much all of the symptoms: weight gain, cystic ovaries, hirsutism (excess hair everywhere), thinning hair (the hair on my head falls out in clumps when I'm not on my meds), acne, dandruff, oily skin, hidradenitis supporativa (boils/cysts in my armpits, lymph nodes), insomnia, pelvic pain, amenhorrhoea (1 menstrual cycle every 14-15 months), and infertility.

Many of these symptoms are caused by super high testosterone levels. Because our ovaries are all screwed up, we make massive amounts of testosterone. Seriously, my blood work in October was nuts. I had testosterone levels equal to those of a hormone raging 16 year old boy. I think this is why I used to be such a nympho and so competitive. Now that I'm on hormone therapy, I'm a lot more mellow and less of a nympho. Okay. Not much less of a nympho, but at least Dave's not fending me off with a golf club anymore. He doesn't complain about his back as much either. Coincidence?

A lot of chicas are embarassed to talk about the disease. I was like that for a few months, but now I'm like, eff that. The reason I was misdiagnosed for, oh, a decade is because doctors are uneducated and the general public has no understanding of this disease's symptoms. If I had a penny for every woman/young girl in my support group who was ignored/insulted by a doctor and told to lose weight, I'd be diving into a vat of shiny copper a la Uncle Scrooge.

Anywho. So my support group has kept me accountable. I post my daily food intake and exercise. I set goals and have the benefit of encouragement from others. I also reciprocate that encouragement whenever possible. It's a give and take. It works.

I'm also very encouraged by the lessening severity of my symptoms. I've only lost 5% of my body weight, but I can tell a difference in many of the skin symptoms. The weight loss won't have much (if any) effect on my fertility, but hey, at least I won't be in a high risk pregnancy category because of my weight. It might (might) make me more sensitive to some fertility therapies. I'm all for that.

Although, just a quick tangent, one of the ladies in my support group just conceived quads. I know! She used one of the protocols that's recommended for women with my blood panels and medical history. I told Dave and he got that deer in the headlights look. Can you blame him?

All right. That's all for today. I need to shower and change. We're trying this going to the movies thing again. Hopefully this time we won't need a tow truck.

L8R.

Waiting Game

I'm sick and tired of waiting for my turn. Always waiting, always counting. Bust. Bust. Big fat bust. I feel like foot stomping a la Veruca Salt. I want it now!

Patience is a crappy virtue. Kiss mine, Aurelius Prudentius Clemens!

Sweatin' With My Oldie

About the title. So I was heading upstairs to change into my workout clothes, and I started thinking about an AIM away message, something funny, a little word play. Instantly, I thought of Richard Simmons and Sweatin' to the Oldies. And then I started mentally rearranging the words and the title popped into my head. I couldn't stop giggling as I passed Dave's man cave.

Dave: What's so funny.
Me: Dude, Sweatin' With My Oldie. Get it?
Dave: (Blank Stare)
Me: When we're doing the deed... Cuz, you know, you're old.
Dave: Funny. Really.

Sigh. The man has no sense of humor.

As for the truck, it's sitting in a shop. Three hundred bucks for parts and labor, seventy for the tow. Yeah. Ouch. I complained to my mom that every time Dave and I manage to save a good chunk of money, we have to spend it on repairs or medical bills. Mom basically told me to cowboy up and deal with it because that's life.

Great. Lovely. I'm so excited to keep slogging through it.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Movie

Today started off great. Dave and I decided we go see Iron Man. We were getting dressed and I pulled on my favorite jeans. Dave noticed they looked a bit baggy so he asked me if I could pull them off without unbuttoning. I shrugged and gave it a try--and they fell to the floor. Yeah. Weird. So I start looking for jeans to wear and I finally decide to try this pair hiding in the back of the closet. They used to be super tight and now they're baggy enough that I can slip three fingers between denim and my waist. Whoa. I've lost 2 sizes. Nuts!

We have a quick lunch and make plans to hit up Wally World before the theater to stock up on yummies. I know. It's sort of wrong to do that, but I'm so not paying four dollars for a box of Raisinets. Not happening.

As we're backing down the driveway, I notice this odd squealing noise. I chalk it up to the fan belt and decide to take a look once we get to the theater. Yeah. We didn't make it. A mile or two from the house, the truck lurches and we throw the belt, lose the power steering, and the underdrive pulley flies off and bounces dwon the highway. Not good, not good. We were lucky. There were no cars behind us and a parking lot was just a few feet to our right. We pulled over and called AAA. Now my truck is parked in the driveway. We've got to call a shop in the morning, have it towed over there and fixed.

Man, you should see the pulley. It seriously looks like someone used it for shotgun practice. I need to get up under the truck and see if the bolts are still attached or if they were ripped off by the flying pulley. I'm not sure about the harmonic balancer either. If that's messed up it's going to increase the price of labor. I just hope we don't have a problem getting the parts. I so wish we had a good tool set so I wouldn't have to pay labor. I'm fairly certain we could fix this ourselves.

Anywho. That was our day. Oh, and yeah, my black truck is still in the garage waiting for the rear seal and transmission fluid to be replaced. I know. I should have taken care of this weeks ago, but I didn't. I'm am the Queen of Procrastination.

One more thing. While we were waiting for AAA, I called the house to talk to my dad, but Marcos answered. He used to drive this truck and had a similar problem throwing a fan belt. He also effed up the water pump and dumped most of the truck's fluids on the side of the highway. He and Dave talked a bit and Marcos shot out this gem: Don't let Dad fool you. That truck's always had fan belt problems. You know what I think? He just wanted to get rid of that truck--and his daughter.

Nice. Thanks, Marcos.

Canine Fetish

So Bosley has developed this really bizarre (or maybe not so bizarre compared to some human perversions) fetish for panties. He sneaks them out of the hamper when I'm showering or if we've left the door to the bathroom ajar. I can't tell you how many times in the last few weeks I've had to cut him loose after he's gotten tangled up in them. He somehow manages to always get his leg stuck in the them. You haven't seen funny until you've seen a 130 pound puppy hopping on one leg and snarling at black cotton hipsters emblazoned with a hot pink pussycat and adorned with a few dangling silver bells.

It's sort of fitting, I suppose. I've always been completely honest about my panty-buying obsession. At one time I owned upwards of fifty pairs. (Maybe more, I stopped counting at that point.) It devastates me to find my panties ripped to shreds. It's also painful for my purse. Most of the panties he's destroyed I bought at 12 bucks a pop. I know. I know. But it's my only splurge. I love them. They make me happy. Lay off, lol.

Yesterday at Sam's (we needed paper goods, cleaning supplies, toiletries, and Diet Dr. Pepper), Dave actually tried to convince me to replace my gorgeous panties with those jumbo packs of uglies they sell there. I think the look on my face said it all. Needless to say, that idea didn't fly.

So that's that. I have to put a lock on our hamper or get a second job to replace my chonies.

Oh, and on the weight loss front, April was a great start to this adventure. I lost 10 pounds in April and a crap load of inches. (Thank you, Debbie Siebers!) I'm already down 2 pounds for May! Woo-Hoo! New and Improved Me, Here I Come!