What! EVER!

I suck.

For the two of you (Michi and Ry-guy) who have noticed my suckiness, thanks and sorry.

Anyway, let's see...the last time I blogged I was in the middle of bruising my ass head to toe and living on a pile of blowdryers and flip-flops and pilates DVDs (ok, DVD, non plural. As IF I have more than one of those. I also have on full collection of Britney's greatest pre-KFed-era vids, to add balance). I remember shoving it all in a pile to one side of my bed, like it was my lover, and then sleeping on the other side. Oh, and in the middle of it, my biological father had this deathbed scare and so a few of us dropped everything and scrambled across 4 states, Reboyfriend flew into Seattle from fighting a ticket work in LA, to say our goodbyes, only to find pappy completely recovered. I was happy that he was well, and pissed at the timing of the false alarm - and that's only because this false alarm happens quite often with him. I came home exhausted (emotionally and physically) to a chaotic pile of my life, bulldozed into a bedroom and a tool shed out back. That was a miserable time. So why is it getting a second round of attention on this post?

In the meantime, I have decided to try eating differently, decided to exercise (mid-July often echoes of January 1st decisions gone terribly awry), realized how much I like some people in my life, and succeeded to not build or buy a house.

1. Eating Differently: On the way home from The Trip Where My Dad Didn't Die, REBF let it slip that he thinks I'm a gluttonous bison-woman with donut grease oozing from my pores. (Him: You look great. Me: But have you notice that I've gained 7 pounds? Him: Yeah.). I had noticed a few of my divorcorexia pounds had crept back on, and decided that I could do the healthy trick I've never tried (ex-er-cise), that I needed a fitness trainer to write me a program, and decided he was precisely the person to do it. His certification expired like five years ago, but surely he remembered some combination of workout approaches that was most efficient for my needs. He said "OK. I'll write you a program. It's called consistency." Looks like SOMEONE forgot all his workout know-how. I laughed, saying that he was experiencing the moment that the Starter Husband had become terrifed of, and had spent years learning to wriggle free from. ReBf nodded, undoubtedly feeling some sort of camaraderie with the SH. I did relay the story to the SH, who clucked his tongue empathetically for ReBf. I yelled back that millions of women would KILL for my metabolism without having to ever exercise or watch what they eat. And that I looked SMOKIN.

If he were even a tiny bit conniving, I'd almost wonder if this was reverse psychology, to get me to quit bitching about my love handles. But he's not girly enough to know how to play mind games. So he really was being a dumbass. He's visual, and I hate that. What made me the maddest was that, if I actually followed through with my little goal, and dropped the couple pounds...then it would seem like I did it Because Of My Boyfriend. Ewww! I will never be that girl. In fact, I told him the whole conversation just made me start thinkin' Arby's, out of rebellion.

However, it was two or three weeks of nothing processed, and while I don't have a scale or a measuring tape...I thought my favorite clothes fit a little more comfortably. And that's the bottom line, right?

2. Deciding To Exercise: Apparently, I live 5 blocks from a lap pool and 3 blocks from a friend who jogs. I have no children and a steady schedule. No excuses.

3. Realizing I Like Some People: Have you ever had a little sister or cousin suddenly become legal, and simultaneously become cool? I've had two sisters cross this threshold and now a cousin - Meems (of Lone Peak fame, several posts back). Who knew Meems was fun and sassy? She was always hip in a highschooler way, and all that. But now, she's going to college and it's SO much more fun to watch.

4. No Home: I decided that $82k for a quarter acre lot, in a swamp, abutting a highway, out by the oil refineries and Peterbilt dealerships with zero chance of a basement...was not a sweet deal (well, it is for the seller). I'd build there happily in a heartbeat, but only when the price tag was not trippin raver balls. So we pulled our hat back outta that one. In terms of buying, everything in my price range is a joke. Anyone who feels differently just has kool-aid still in their system. So our builder contract is held up, although I have finalized the blueprints with the estimator.

This post was boring, but it filled that gap and made me feel better about my online absence. I'm off to catch up on the backlog of blogs now. I'll probably be commenting on yours soon.