Life Without Internet

It's like living in the Dark Ages when your Internet goes down. We might as well have lost all contact with the outer world, I felt so cut off!

Don't know why it crashed but it did. Woke up this morning and it was back, like a Christmas Miracle in September. Such a relief.

I've been unable to blog about several weird things; namely my last 24 hours.

Working my way back into weight-loss habits (not maintenance) and it's been hard.

HARD, folks! I still haven't found time to get back into the gym, although I've been biking a lot, and working on portion control A LOT.

There's so much to catch up on...things I ignored for months...that I'm still so busy every day. I look back and think, "Gosh, this time last year I was in the gym and biking to work AND making time to walk the reservoir once in the morning. How did I do it?"

It was my main -- and only -- priority at that time. That's how.

So I'm trying to push myself back into that mindset. Weight LOSS mind set.

I read something in a book that has become my new mantra: Discipline is remembering what you want.

Yes. For me, that's what it is. I want to be able to go horseback riding with my nephew and not worry secretly that I'm killing the horse. I want to be able to go kayaking with my nephew or white-water rafting and not be afraid I'll sink the boats. Or that I look a fool.

That's what I want. More than an extra bite, an extra portion, an extra glass of wine.

So, in the last 24 hours I had to dash to one party, talk to sources, tossed back two glasses of wine (didn't have to do that but did it) but successfully fled when the bar snacks appeared. Dashed 100 blocks north to Washington Heights, went to another source party, drank water, then one beer, and again fled as soon as the snacks appeared (awful fried things -- like fried empanadas or something --- I took one look and ran the other way).

Discipline is remembering what I want.

I got home, ate something healthy (veg chili with quinoa, made by the lovely BF) and tumbled into bed.

Three hours later, approx 3a.m., a huge blaring sound rips me awake. Smoke alarm.

Yes, the crazy man who lives down and across the way fell asleep with something on the stove, it smoked up and set off the fire alarm.

Everyone had to evacuate while firefighters came. It was a small fire, but the smoke was really awful! When we opened the door to flee down the hallway it came billowing up, thick and dark grey. The BF lost his head a bit, rushing around in a panic.

If I hadn't been trying to catch the cat and stuff him in his box it might have been funny. As it was I could have done without the boyfriend trying to drape a wet towel over my head so I could breathe on the way out. Good idea, except he nearly suffocated my by dropping a thick sopping towel on my face while I was bent over wrestling with my six-pound psycho cat, who was determined not to go into his carrier.

It was very wet, and very drippy. When I got outside I looked down and my shirt was drenched. As was the cat. Poor thing.

OK, gotta run!

Who Am I?

According to a certain Parks Department worker who can't seem to keep from shouting at me as I bike past him in the morning, my name is "Big Momma."

That's right - that's what he shouts at me every time he sees me.

"Big Moooommmmaaaa!" He yells it across fields, even. I'd like to kick his teeth in, except I realize he's actually doing it as an expression of appreciation. He waves at me, smiles, gives me thumbs up, pumps his fist and so on.

Is it really so hard for people to believe that larger folks can be very fit and active? The other day he gave me a big grin because I made it up a small incline in Central Park. I felt like bashing him over the head with my bike lock -- I'm hardly so out of shape that I can't peddle up a minuscule hill!

Anyway...I feel like I am finally climbing out of a strange sort of entombment. Buried alive, if you will. For the first time in about....oh, six months, I don't have a deadline looming over my head. I shipped the last extra project off today via e-mail, and heaved a massive sigh of relief.

Now I have to fight my way back into my "normal" routine. It's been a summer of tension and distress; not without its pleasures, but a lot of challenges.

Who am I? Big Momma, I suppose. For the moment, at least. Time to change that perception of myself and get back to when I felt like Lean, Mean Momma. And I want to drop two jean sizes by Christmas.

So...there's the gauntlet, well and truly thrown.