tiamat_the_red

I'm counting macros again. Ostensibly this is to help me lift better (science is actually on my side for the "more protein is better" thing!). But it's also because I am once again back to the heaviest weight I've ever been at and I don't want to be. But here's the conflict; I want to be happy where I'm at. I feel like a traitor for wanting my body to be a certain way. Then again, it's MY body, I can do what I want with it, right? On the other hand, I probably only want to be thinner because, let's face it, society values thinness quite a bit. I probably SHOULD be worried about my health, and I sort of am, but I don't see my health following Dad's path because I am much, much more active than he was while he was working.

On the practical side of things, I really, REALLY need to get better at front-loading my calories. I did pretty good yesterday; I didn't have to do anything stupid like four ounces of pasta, a quarter cup of raisins and some crackers to get to the right number of carbs at dinner. Come to think of it, today wasn't too bad, either, so maybe I'm ok. I would have liked to come home and not be utterly famished but such is life. And I still have 18 grams of fat to eat. Somehow. I might do the math and split that with some carbs so I can have toast with butter. mmm.

Clyde is patiently (or not) waiting for me to play with him, so I will worry about this more later.

I've gotten out of the habit of posting to any kind of journal but maybe I should start again.

The last time I started one of these was back in college. I joined livejournal ages ago and really dropped my usage frequency as time went on. I read it regularly, but rarely posted. It was helpful back when I had to reconstruct my housing timeline for my mortgage (late 2013, holy shit).

Major points of last year:
Squall died in February. I saw it coming; she'd been sick with cancer for a couple of years at that point. I still remember sitting at my desk in August getting the phone call that it was probably cancer. It was one of those horrible scheduled "team birthday" things. Jerry saw me not going and razzed me. I turned around and and said I was not in the mood. I must have snapped or maybe I had one of those looks on my face, because he backed off and left me to deal with my shock in peace.

In September, I went to the Azores. Lovely place, but never again. A&N had a baby girl while I was gone. J was useless as a source of information. He was totally besotted. Still is.

In October, I started looking at maybe getting a cat and went to the Cat Zone with J on October 8. I spent the whole hour talking with a volunteer about which cats might be a good fit and almost cried. I decided I wasn't ready. On October 19th, I had more or less picked out two cats and emailed the coordinator about meeting them as they were both in foster homes. On Tuesday, October 24th, I met Clyde. He hid under the bed for half an hour before coming out and going straight for my hands to be pet. I brought him home on Friday, October 27th. He hid under the sink in the bathroom; the very picture of despair, face in the corner, not responding to anything. When I left the house for Gamenight, he moved to my closet but I didn't see him at all for the first 48 hours and then, suddenly, I was safe and he wanted attention. He was Casper the Friendly Ghost for Halloween.

At the same time, I was holding my breath and hoping that Bud wouldn't get adopted by the people who had already met him. They waffled. And waffled. And waffled (apparently the boyfriend was waffling, the woman wanted him. Their loss, my gain). I met him on November 4th. He didn't hide, but he was clearly suspicious of me. He's still pretty suspicious. He came home with me on November 10th and went straight into the guest room. I did the slow introduction thing with them until Saturday, the 18th, when I realized that Clyde was waking me up in the morning so I would go let Bud out and they could play. After that, I only separated them when I was gone and then only until after Thanksgiving. They get along better than I could have ever hoped. They even like my parents. Bud's still suspicious of people in general but Clyde has become pretty sociable. Neither of them is violent.

On January 1st, Bud let me sit down on the couch next to him for the first time. On January 8th, he jumped up on the couch with me and Clyde for the first time. It feels like a victory.

I continue to pick up heavy shit for fun. I'm currently debating continuing with competition or if maybe that time has passed me by. My knees seem hellbent on feeling horrible in winter.

I still work for the same employer and I'm paid to answer the question "What could possibly go wrong?"

January 10th marked the 4 year anniversary of being in this house. I hadn't realized it had been so long.

Sometime in September or October will mark knowing Gamoid and Skyknyt for half my life. My, how time does fly.