I'm on my way to a family reunion, my mother's family, not the crazy side of the family. About 30 people are planning to show up, from the East Coast and the Midwest and the South.
Joyous gatherings like this I usually find somewhat stressful. My mom and I get together and talk nonstop like magpies. My sister and I can do the same, although we can also fall into a disagreement and avoid each other for the weekend. Sometimes that sort of intense catching up can be fun, and sometimes it can be exhausting. Then there is all the coordination and bossing around; Mom has to do a lot of that because she is the oldest sister. So am I.
The long table is always laden with dishes. I told you how I have begun to avoid dishes, which have hidden within them delicious morsels of fat and carbs that at one time I would have loved to eat but now I won't. Because I'm stubborn. Because I'm smart. Because I have somehow flipped a switch in my brain and now many of the calorie laden foods I have wanted to gorge on in the past do not appeal to me. We went to Golden Coral last weekend, and I was getting kind of sick at what other people were eating - just the shear amount in some cases. They seemed to take the "all you can eat" thing to be a challenge.
I've lost 5 pounds since I started to walk purposefully 30 minutes a day. That's not too big of a chunk out of the day, is it? I'm still not hating it, and I'm trying to stay positive until it's a habit. My mom has an oval track mowed out of the pasture so I'll have a place to walk.
Having felt cranky and moody and low for the past few weeks, I took a couple of days off work to make a nice long weekend. I'll rest up and finish cleaning on Monday, and back to work on Tuesday.
So I will try to blog every day while I'm gone. If I can't manage that (not sure how much computer time I can beg), I should at least be able to post some photos from the festivities.
Remember that Christina Aguilera video I like to follow for good sweaty exercise? Well, today it was the king of pop. Every news channel I usually watch was full of nothing but Michael Jackson, so I took advantage of it and danced with him when I wasn't moving furniture and sorting paper. I'm not a fan, but the music is very danceable, and I don't think Michael would find it objectionable, except for the way I dance. Sweat was shed, and that's my measurement for whether I worked hard enough.
The photo at the head of this post is the car I drive, which the Woodsman waxed and shined and scrubbed. If you look close, you can see the flowerbed he planted reflected in the side of the car. I think it looks great, especially for a 17-year-old car. It's a Thunderbird Super Coupe, 1992. Some people love this car so much they have a club for owners.
When I went to an interview for the job I have now, I drove this car, which I had parked under a mimosa tree for about a month beforehand. The car was covered with bird doo and desicated mimosa blooms that had stuck. The back seat was full of books stacked every which way, and the passenger seat held a multi-colored afghan that my dog Pixie likes to nest in when we travel.
You don't expect your prospective employer to get a look at your car when you interview, but I had to park at a meter, and the meter had to be fed. My (now) boss volunteered to go out and do it. He came back laughing, but didn't say anything during the interview. He later hired me, but he still likes to tease me about the way my car looked: "Exactly the kind of car I expect an editor to drive," he says.
Have a good weekend, and I'll post something tomorrow.