Well, hey there.
Happy September! I love autumn, and every day is a day closer to autumn, but of course, after a very fall-like August, we have started September with a week of very hot days. Like, humid, 90's, dog days of summer-type heat.
Of course, I spend all day in a climate-controlled office, so I guess I'm not really missing out. It's a little sad - I have a great job, but I spend an awful lot of time wondering what else I could be doing. Yesterday I got off work a little early and treated myself to a pot of hot tea, on a hot day, go figure, at a favorite spot in Oakley, Essencha. I love the smell and ambiance of the place, and I love to go in there and drink tea and read my book, and they are looking for part-time help, and I couldn't help but wonder if I wouldn't love to work there. I worked in the restaurant business briefly, when I was 20, and I really did not love it. There are a lot of people who turn into assholes when other people serve them food. I am the opposite, of course - if you are going to give me food and wait on me, I am going to bend over backwards to make you love me. Anyway, I doubt I'd love it as much as I imagine, but I sat there thinking, "if I was to quit my current job and take on a few part-time gigs, doing different things, maybe I'd figure out what I want to do for the rest of my life?"
Is it possible that, as I grow older, I grow more uncertain as to what I should be doing with my life? What a very disconcerting thought. So many women my age talk about how they are loving their 30's and 40's because they are more confident and they know themselves better. I suppose I do know myself better - I know that I still haven't found something I feel passion for - to a point that I want to make a career out of it. I would like to be outside a lot more than I am, that is for certain. And I desperately want to work closer to home and do away with this traffic, which makes me so angry that I want to beat other drivers over their stupid heads with my daughter's size 13 metal softball cleats - which rules out Essencha, of course.
This is not at all what I planned to talk about today, but it is what is spewing from the churning sea that is my mind today, so it's what you get.
Weigh in time! I weighed in yesterday morning, 6:00AM, after a kickboxing class.
SW (8/4/2015): 281.8
Ok. So we're going the right direction again. I definitely kept my eye on my calorie intake this week, much more so than I was, and I need to keep that up.
Today I woke up at 5:30 to go to kickboxing. When my girl was a baby, I used to hold her while sitting in my computer chair and my upper back would get stiff. Once, while holding her, I did some twisting stretches to try and get the kinks out, and I moved funnily, and pulled the muscle just between my right shoulder blade and my spine. I have no idea what this is, but it hurt like a mother. And every so often, that spot gets tender again, and I find it difficult to move my arm certain ways, and it hurts really badly when I look to my right. I was pretty freaking uncomfortable yesterday afternoon into the evening, and then again this morning, so I decided punching a bag was not going to work for me today. I decided to stay up and do some cleaning, some light stretching, and hit the grocery store before the Saturday rush. I got there at 6AM, well ahead of the rest of the world, but there were a lot of men there. I was literally the only female shopper I saw in the whole store. Isn't that weird? I have never been the only woman in a grocery store (aside from the employees, of course.)
Anyway, I had to get half and half for my coffee, and fish oil capsules, and the makings for taffy apple salad, which I am making for my baby sister's birthday lunch tomorrow. I ended up having a rather productive rest of my day - I freaking dusted, people! - and then took my girl and her friend shopping because she has "NOTHING to wear!" I want to say to suck it up, girl, and buy your own clothes, but she wants to buy shirts from Hot Topic, which is the kind of place I always wanted to shop when I was a teenager, and I am the weak, pathetic mom trying to live vicariously through her adorably quirky girl. I saw a Chewbacca in the Build-a-Bear Workshop (we used to live in that place when the Girl was little) and squealed loudly, prompting my daughter to kind of freak out and put her hand over my mouth and yell out "Mom! Shh!" which only drew more attention to the situation, while her friend was giggling hysterically and said, "your mom is so funny and cool." So, see people? I have been judged "funny and cool."
Anyway, so there we are. I'm going to go read or something. Because that's what we cool moms do on a Saturday night.