Have you seen the dust cloud billowing from my general direction? Well, if so, let me explain. Please hark back to the last time you saw an old western. Enter cowboys, steerhands, wagon train, etc, over horizon stage left. Enter Indians, squaws, teepees, and other steriotypes, etc, stage right. Stage left and stage right descend upon one another. The shooting and whooping are deafening. Soon, there is a large dust cloud filling your TV screen, with nothing to distinguish the two sides but muskets and feathers, except perhaps a lucky glimpse of John Wayne somewhere in the midst.
The dust cloud has pretty much been my post-vacation life until this week. Enter "US" stage left--in weary van, with weary drivers, and weary children--on August 17th, late. The first set of Indians was already in place in the form of an invasion. I won't go into pain-staking detail here, but suffice it to say that it took me almost two weeks, 14 cans of Raid, 4 pounds of baking soda, 5 vacuum bags, a jug of detergent, and unknown gallons of water to fix the problem. I had left my house immaculate, so I was not expecting to have to come home and do it all over again.
Enter other Indians in pompous parade, epic style. There was the pile of medical bills, a Medicaid mix-up, and the surprising absense of a particular piece of mail. There was a room that needed to be emptied, taped, tarped, painted, untarped, untaped, and filled--before we planned to start homeschooling on September 6th. Then, five days after our return, my mom ended up very ill and in the hospital. Poor mom! She was there a week before it was all over. The day after mom's surgery, Maggie had another seizure, and it was off to see our friends in the ER. The kids had regular physicals, Wade and I had the dentist, and Maggie had the neurologist and another MRI. Yes, the dust was impressive, and John Wayne was nowhere to be seen. (I suppose this is a relief since The Duke's appearance would have exceeded dust cloud, and rated in the "supernatural event" category, but I digress.)
Anyway, all that to say, the Cowboys and Indians came and went, I kept my trusty tracker by my side at all times, and all was not lost among the choking chaos. As I mentioned last week, on vacation I managed to lose 0.6 pounds. During the week of hospital and doctor dashes, I miraculously left behind 0.2 pounds. Going into the third week, I wasn't sure what to expect of my body, since I didn't seem to be going anywhere fast, but I dropped another point, and used a flex point here and there when I was hungry. Last Tuesday, I lost 2.4 pounds!
Hence, this week I am naturally hopeful that I will be able to lose the 1.8 pounds between me and the big FIFTY POUND victory! It's getting so close, I can almost touch it! This week is week 3C (Week 1C was the week of the pesticides, Week 2C was the week of hospitals and doctors, in case you're wondering). I was supposed to re-evaluate my activity level, and I certainly did. I have discovered that I am a terrible home exerciser. I plan to do it, but I just don't. I have to get out of the house. Consequently, I've found a local gym with an indoor track that I can use for free year round. Perfect! Tuesday, I ran 2 miles, and walked my third in about 40 minutes. Thursday, I pushed hard, and ran 3 miles in 32 minutes. A 10 minutes 20 second mile is a new record for me, and I can't wait to go again next week.
This coming week (starting Tuesday) I will be sending a couple extra blogs your way. I need to lay out what my plans are for the last 17 weeks of this year, and I need to talk about where I am in this whole process anyway. There just doesn't seem to be as much to write about--but that's because this is a process and not a destination. In a process, you're bound to re-visit goals, challenges, failures, and victories; because everything is a cycle. I starting to realize it's how you cope with the cycle that matters.
So how am I coping? Pretty good overall, I'd say. I only had one true black out. I woke up in the middle of the dust cloud, surrounded by the din of stress, hormones, and circumstances--and in front of me lay three carcases: an Angus 1/3 pound burger box, a french fry bag, and a forlorn and empty milkshake cup. DID I DO THAT?! Well, bless my heart!