Brrrrm!

Ha!  You thought I was talking about the cold, didn't you?  Well, I mostly am but also I decided to wrench my attention back to the Photo a Day theme and today's is "vehicle."  I thought that a head-on shot of Beverly would be interesting and I was right.  See?  You can also see the remnants of last weekend's snowfall and if you look closely you can see the frost on the windshield.  (that's the "brrr" part of the heading)  I have to wrassle myself back to caring about myself, I've kind of sloughed off lately.  Actually there's no "kind of" about it, I've flung my diet and exercise regimens in the dumper and been sitting around like a slug and eating everything that slowed down in my vicinity.  Tsk.  What possesses a rational, mature woman to basically stomp all over good habits that she's struggled to develop and embrace bad ones that only make her feel like crap and make her so frustrated with herself that she eats more?  Perhaps that "rational" part's an illusion.  Perhaps I'm not mature.  (yeah, that's almost a given)  Okay.  I just erased a whole sorry-for-myself part of this; time to put on my big girl pants, pull myself up by my bra straps, and just get on with working to feel better both physically and emotionally.  Even if I have to make myself a schedule, I need to stop flopping around, make a plan, and stick to it.  That does it; I'm drawing a line in the sand (snow?).  Saturday's December 1, that's a good day to begin.  I can ease into it the next couple days, get my ducks in a row, take a little walk or pedal the bike (yeah, that's a great idea & I've got a bunch of new audiobooks to listen to while I pedal), and dispose of the snacks at work (bad, bad Barbara) and not down my gullet.  (pretzels are better than potato chips for snacks anyway, to hell with the buy-one-get-one deals at Walgreen's, I like Aldi pretzels the best anyway and they're cheap)  I was excited to see that the new Harry Dresden novel by Jim Butcher was available on Audible.com yesterday so I used my one credit (you get one a month) on it, downloaded it, and took my Kindle Fire downstairs to read to me while I got started on the Christmas sewing.  I was doubly excited that James Marsters is back reading it.  He was busy when the last one came out (at least that's what they said) so some other guy read that one and it's just not the same Harry. (the Harry in my imagination doesn't look like the one on the book covers either, don't know why)  I didn't think I'd like Audible since I'm trying to borrow library books and not buy them, especially not just buy a book that I don't know if I'll like, but with Audible I can amass a library of books that I love in audible form so I can sew or knit while I listen.  I reread my favorite books all the time so now I can have them and not have to build more shelves or haul them around when I go places.  I love my Kindle Fire, my iPod, and my Sony Walkman mp3 player that I've resurrected since one of the ways to borrow audiobooks from the library likes that better.  I'm truly wired.  Bring on the technology!  As long as I have the "contact us" numbers or DS to call when I get stuck.  I don't have a smart phone though, I just can't justify spending all that money a month on a phone.

November 28-Amadeo Modigliani, Jeanne Hebuterne.  Cleo always wanted a dark brown pleated skirt like that one.  She stood with the toes of her brown leather school shoes almost touching the skirt.  She was careful not to get any of the blood on her shoes but she got as close as she could to the woman's body sprawled on the courtyard.  Cleo wasn't unsympathetic about the woman's end but the breeze tugged at the hem of that pleated skirt; she liked the way it moved in the air.  It rippled around her knees making Cleo determined to ask her mom for one for her birthday next month.

Odd.  That's all I can say, odd.  My wrist was achy, maybe that's why I wrote something so odd.  Time for yogurt, pineapple & granola with a banana on the side.  See?  I don't always eat Cheerios.  You thought I was in a rut, didn't you?  Tsk, silly.
--Barbara Sue