It’s Wednesday again. I’m not making that my new motto.
I cut 6 inches off my hair, myself, on Monday, and no one noticed.
No word from Dixie Belle Peaches. No stand. No additional work . . .
Steve’s gone off to spend the day at his only regular gig – working for his brother.
I’ve just finished placing the clothes across the deck rail to dry. Geoffrey just vaccumed. Dishes are calling softly. There are 2 loads of laundry to fold and socks to match. I also need to spend some time with the Periodic Table, memorizing it for trivia. I have to pull my weight, which is now stuck at 246. Not complaining, but ready to see it move down some more. And Steve needs me to at least know the Noble Gases, lol.
We won $15 in house cash last night at a place we desperately wanted to like. It was in an old railway station. The owner had tried to grow her own herbs and buy locally grown produce. It didn’t work so they’d renamed it and were starting over. The food had sugar added where it shouldn’t have, and way too much salt. Steve and I had to send one dinner back and to replace it, we ordered a desert. It was a white chocolate bread pudding with strawberry compote. OMG it was amazing. I ate about 1/3 of it before pushing it off to Steve. You do not know how badly I wanted that. I was so good. I think the hunger isn’t raging because my carbs are low. I also think the weight is sitting here because the calories/fat on this plan are too low. I always did like Atkins. I could eat the fats and the weight kept moving off – I really think I could just bump back over to it and it might make a difference.
Tuesday next is cleaning day for Bobby’s house. We are so broke. V just emailed about the peach stand – there is nothing to tell her. We are as broke as any two people can be. Someone offered me chickens and the support of a 1700 member active group to help change the ordinances to keep them. You know I want chickens, right? lol
I know everything is disjointed. I’m thinking it’s the approaching menopause. I told Steve my symptoms will be the one handled by horse-piss pills. That’s my kind of luck. Weight that sticks tight. Depression. Raging sex drive. Crying all the time. Not being able to see well. No attention span. Find me a medicine that will hit these symptoms and I’ll sell my soul for it. Just don’t tell my mom.
Dinner tonight will be pork chop, collards, squash, fried okra and watermellon. I’ll be glad when this day is over.