Just Do It

I know it is supremely lame, unoriginal, and cribbed directly from Nike, but "Just Do It" is my weight-loss motto for 2008.

I am tired of all my own whining and see-sawing. Weight loss really should not be that difficult. I can do it. I don't have a medical issue preventing me from losing weight. I cannot beleive that I have let food (and my own lack of will power) defeat me for so many years.

So I am just going to do it this coming year. I won't like it, but big f'ing deal. Everyone has to do things they don't like. Why am I so precious that I think I can't do something I don't like?

I've even promised myself that if at the end of 2008 the health benefits I've gained from losing weight aren't worth it to me, then I'll just go back to eating what I want. You know, that's a choice for me to make, but not until I've seen the other side. I need to experience the weight loss and the resulting benefits before I can make that decision.

So, I'm just going to do it. Screw being fat!

Arghhhhhh!


'If I need someone to scream like a woman, I'll give you a call.'

You can't turn back the clock but you can wind it up again

So ... my family always does the gift thing at the holidays, and this year, I received something really special. But it wasn't a Christmas gift. It was a family heirloom that has made its way down to me.

In the early 1900s, my great-grandfather Alonzo purchased a second-hand mantle clock for his wife to commemorate the birth of a child, my grandfather. Everyone loved and wanted that clock, but Alonzo made sure it went to his favorite grandchild a few years before his death; that grandchild is my mother.

Now she has given the clock to me. I've always loved it. I once wrote a paper about it for English class, speculating on what the world was like back when that clock was new.

It is an oak clock with brass movement and a gold-patterned glass door. There is supposed to be an hourly strike on a coil gong and a single strike on each half-hour, although the clock isn't in complete working order. I think I can get it repaired though.

I've attached a photo of a very similar clock (same brand, same series, same date).

It is nice to have something that has survived four generations of my family and was originally owned by great-grandparents that I never got the chance to meet.

Christmas

I usually don't post really serious stuff on this blog. Yes, weight loss ups and downs are serious, but they are also comically absurd (or absurdly comic) at times, so it balances out.

But this entry is going to be serious. I just returned from celebrating Christmas with my family. My grandfather has Alzheimer's. Last year, he was different ... quieter, but still himself. This year I couldn't find my grandfather anywhere.

I don't think he knew who I was. He knew I was someone he loved, but he didn't know I was his grandson. He never said my name. He didn't believe it was even Christmas and thought the family was tricking him into going somewhere. He hates to leave his home now.

The man who talked non-stop, who told story after story about his childhood or the War, who laughed constantly will not say a word now unless you ask him a direct question. If he can answer, he will do so with as few words as possible. He never said one single thing to me for the first time, of course, in 35 years.

He wanders around the house aimlessly. On more than one occasion he would go stand or sit in my parents' bathroom for 20 or 30 minutes. We decided to just let him be. It is sad because although he doesn't know much, I think he knows enough still to know that something is very wrong. I wonder if he goes to that bathroom to escape the crowd and desperately wrack his brain to figure out what is going on.

When we were growing up, my brother and I thought Pawpaw knew everything and could fix or make anything. He told us all about plants and gardening and growing things. He told us about England and Germany and all the places he had seen during WWII. He carved us toys out of wood, including a moving tractor out of old spools and rubber bands. My mother's house is filled with things he made -- tables, chairs, cabinets, plant holders, dozens of bird houses, and even a crude rooster figurine that he whittled for her. I remember once asking him if he would make me a TV for my bedroom. I was probably 8.

He was the first person to take us fishing, and we'd all go crazy when one of us caught something at all larger than a minnow. When he got excited, he'd say "Well, good land." We once gave my grandparents a trip to Nashville for Christmas. We drew posters showing them at all the Nashville landmarks with Pawpaw exclaiming "Good land" in every one. I have those posters in my bedroom right now.

Pawpaw loved to read Westerns and had nearly full collections of his two favorite authors, Louis L'Amour and Zane Grey. My brother will get one set of those books, and I will get the other.

Pawpaw was a bit of a rascal growing up and told us so many stories of the crazy, innocent jokes he and his brothers would pull when they were young. They once crept over to their neighbor's house in the middle of the night, took apart his farming wagon, and reassembled the entire thing on top of the barn. They were also fond of "dry setting:" He and his brothers would knock on a neighbor's door, enter in complete silence when it was opened, and go sit on the couch for about 30 seconds. No one would say a word and after the 30 seconds was up, they would all rise from the couch and run out the door.

I saw no humor or liveliness or joy in Pawpaw the entire holiday save for the few times he would play with my parent's dog, Maggie. Thank God for that dog. It seems she was the only thing Pawpaw could relate to.

I know Alzheimer's afflicts millions of people, but it is just so bizarre to me. How can someone still be here, but already be gone?

Is gardening with no work really gardening?

I say no, but that hasn't stopped me from becoming OBSESSED with the AeroGarden. I really really really want one. Actually, no, I don't want one; I want 10. I want them all over my kitchen. I want my kitchen to look like a greenhouse.



I wanna grow buttloads of herbs with no soil, no sun, no work. I wanna grow tomatoes. I wanna grow arugula. I wanna grow mini roses. I want big, beautiful plants to sprout not out of seeds (heavens no), but out of specalized "grow pods." And I want them to grow with amazing speed.

And I ain't the only one. It looks like about 90% of their AeroGardens are out of stock. I'm sure in a year or two they'll discover that these aeroponic plants cause a third eye to grow or some other such strange thing.

I still want one though!


'So tell me, why am I not popping your head like a zit right now?'

Merry Christmas

I got my first Christmas gift today -- a wonderful book about keeping chickens as pets. It is definitely something I'm going to have to think about in the new year.





'I'm way off my game. My game's left the country. It's in Cuernavaca.'

Wacka wacka

You know the sound Pac-Man makes when eating those dots? Wacka wacka wacka wacka?

That's the theme song to my life right now. I am just lining up food and eating eating eating.

Today was the last WW weigh-in of 2007, and I once again skipped it. I haven't been in months. But, listen, there is no point in getting upset about it. I made the decisions, and there is nothing I can do about it now.

I still feel WW is something that can work for me. I've already signed back up for 2008 (starting January 15 I think). I am sad it ended on this downward note, but I still think I can make good progress on WW in 2008.

I know I have lots of support! Thanks.

'It eats you, starting with your bottom.'

Of amputated toes, monkey cabinets, sideshow freaks, and the Land of the Rising Sun (Son)

One person in all the world will understand today's post. For the rest of you, please feel free to ignore! There will be other posts!

My toe is so gnarly today -- all swollen and purple/black. It is as if my body has never suffered a puncture wound before. What the hell? I'll survive though.

Here are some pix of my antique monkey cabinet. You can also see part of my frog collection in the first picture.

And I can't wait to try out the Big Top Candy Shop. It sounds very cool (as does the other store owned by the same folks), but when I do go, I must focus more on the circus/sideshow theme than the candy.

Lastly, I'll just say Yoi ichinichi o (Have a good evening)!

'If anything should happen to you and you should be killed, I should take it somewhat amiss.'

Happiness is Easy

I just have to say this 15-year-old boy who sings Johnny Cash songs makes me very happy. Very.

I'm lucky ... it doesn't take a whole lot to make me very happy.

That's all.

'I lurk.'

Something big in '08?

Hmmm ... I feel like something is bubbling under the surface. Something that fills me with anticipation. What that something is exactly I don't know. And if it is real or not I don't know.

I almost always feel something good as a new year dawns -- I'm just optimistic in that way I think. On the other hand, though, maybe I'm just avoiding the negative feelings of the current year by focusing all my energy on "It'll happen next year."

In 1997, I felt it would happen in 1998. It didn't. In 2002, I felt it would happen in 2003. It didn't. In 2006, I felt it would happen this year. It didn't. So ... could it be different in 2008? Yes. It is totally within my power for it to be different, which is the crazy thing. But will it be different? I don't know.

I do know that for the first time in maybe forever, I am ending a year weighing less than I did when I started the year. That's certainly something. It could have been a lot more if I hadn't stalled so badly with WW in the past months, but I've still done something that I have possibly never done before. So I will be happy with that. For now.

'I don't care if it is an orgy of death, there's still such a thing as a napkin?'