Life is good, and there is nothing new to report in this neck of the woods. As Atlanta is bottle necked and completely paralyzed from 2-3 inches of snow right now, we are sunny and chilly with dry ground. I wish we had snow; we certainly need the moisture. But snow we have not had much of so far this winter. I’m guessing it will all come in April when people are outside trying to golf and get back on their motorcycles. I mean seriously, how does a city shut down and everyone abandons their cars with 2 or 3 inches of snow?! And sleeping in a CVS because they can’t get home. Geesh! It seems completely ridiculous to me, but we are smack dab in the center of the Midwest where people drive to the grocery store in the middle of a blizzard without blinking an eye.

So we have new carpet which is heavenly. We didn’t realize how little padding we had until we stepped foot on the new stuff. Then I thought, oh geez, this carpet really was bad! No, I knew it was really bad all along. I just pretended to ignore it. And we have new kitchen floors too which are wonderful. And a fresh coat of color on the wall. I think that’s enough new stuff for a while.

Speaking of new, I am really feeling very old. Not new at all. My body is cheating on me I think. It’s like I’ve been neglected and left for something better. I’m not too sure if it’s the beginning of menopause or my thyroid not working or maybe a little of both, but I’ll tell you this. This getting old stuff is for the birds! Everything is out of sync, nothing happens when or like it should. I’m not enjoying it so much. And the funny thing is, all my family and friends who have gone through this can’t remember much what it was like. Oh everyone seems to remember the hot flashes, which I don’t have….yet. But all the rest seems to go to the “forget me” file in their brains. Sigh. I guess I could hold on to the saying “this too shall pass” but it’s not passing very fast so that doesn’t seem so appropriate. OK, for example, in spite of the fact that I exercise religiously every single morning before work, and I even have my own locker at the gym which is very convenient I might add, my body isn’t shrinking. And yes, I’ve changed my diet and am eating smaller portions and yes, they are healthier too. It’s depressing. Everything slows down to a turtle’s pace when you get old. I don’t like it so much. But there is a silver lining and it’s this. My husband still thinks I’m a beauty. He still grabs my butt. And he still thinks I’m sexy. So while I might not like my body in its current condition at the moment, I have to remember there is so much more to life than having a thin waistline. I’m working on it and I won’t stop. And I sure as heck will get there some day. Hopefully my doctor will have some answers for me next week. In the mean time, I’ll stay friends with the weights and elliptical machine and keep moving my feet while watching Good Morning America every day. Pandora is my work out pal too and I love to blast the music. I just have to remember not to sing out loud. That’s kind of hard for me. We McClintick girls like to sing to our music. A lot. I’m pretty sure no one wants to hear my yell out “your an overcomer…stay in the fight til the final round” while sitting on the hip sled.

So yeah, I’m kinda blah right now. It’s like a recipe. A dash of cold winter days plus a cup of getting old plus a pinch of an alien living in my body mixed with some unmet expectations (self induced of course) and some grey hair added too. Bake for a while and you’ve got one crazy lady! No really, it’s not that bad but I do like to exaggerate about the joys of getting old. And if I calculate right, I’m probably only half way baked so I’ve got a lot of time left in me. Hey, it could be worse. I could be eating dates and drinking prune juice every day before putting on my polyester outfit and velcro shoes and heading out on my scooter to have my hair dyed a nice hue of blue. How’s that for a stereo type! If you can’t laugh about yourself then what have you got?!

I guess I’m just kind of going through the motions in a lot of ways. My quiet time with the Lord is blah. I’m there but I feel like I’m talking to a wall, and walls don’t talk. At least the walls around me don’t talk but maybe yours do. I love my job and that is going great. My kids are wonderful, engaging and the light of my life. My husband is pretty awesome too. And I’ve had time with friends and even have several more girl dates on the calendar to look forward to. So it’s not like I’m depressed. I just simply don’t like me so much. Or more honestly, I don’t like the shell that houses my soul. It’s not changing like I want it to. It’s not listening to me. It’s not obeying when I tell it to shrink! So there you have it….me weighing in.

Like Erma Bombeck once said…..

Diet Totals 758-Pound Loss

I have dieted continuously for the last 2 decades and lost
a total of 758 pounds. By all calculations, I should be
hanging from a charm bracelet.

I have done a lot of kidding around with Weight Watchers,
but it is the only organization in which I ever lost a
great deal of weight. But I fought them. Every Tuesday
morning, a group of us had to “weigh in” before the
lecture. Our ritual was enough to boggle the imagination.
We got together a check list of precautions before we
actually stepped on the scale.

Bathroom? Check. Water pill? Check. Have you removed
underwear, wedding ring, nail polish? Check. Set aside
shoes and earrings? Check. Are you wearing a summer
dress beneath your winter coat? Check.

The first week I stepped on the scale and my instructor
said, “You have gained.” (Next week, I cut my hair.)

The next week, she said, “You have lost 8 ounces,but
that is not enough.” (I had the fillings in my teeth
removed.)

The third week, I had dropped a pound, but my instructor
was still not pleased. (I had my tonsils taken out.)

Finally, she really chewed me out. She accused me of not
sticking to the diet and not taking it seriously. That
hurt.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” I said, “but I think I am
pregnant.”

“How far?” she said coldly, clicking her ballpoint pen
to make a notation on my card.

“Possibly 3 days,” I said.

She glowered. “Any other excuses?”

“Would you believe I have a cold and my head is swollen?”

“No.”

“How about I was celebrating the Buzzard’s Return to
Hinkley, Ohio and had butter on my popcorn?”

She tapped her pen impatiently on the card and stared at
me silently.

“Lint in the navel?” I offered feebly.

“How about first one to the trough?” she asked dryly.

I learned quickly never to argue with a woman who had the
scales on her side.

I saw my old instructor the other day and she eyed me
carefully and said, “When are you returning to class?”

“As soon as I have my appendix removed,” I said
returning her gaze.

I’m not sure, but I think I heard her moan.