Out with September!

It’s Migraine Week at Fluid Pudding, which means I’m taking pills and feeling a little hazy and preparing for the deluge! This is how it works. Three days before the headache REALLY hits, I feel electrical charges in my head. (I believe I’m speaking figuratively, although I’ve never held a light bulb to my ear when the charges are firing.) I started feeling the charges on Saturday evening. That’s when I started taking my customized cocktail pills!

Two days before the headache really hits, I start feeling nauseated. That’s when it’s time to bust out the Zofran! (I busted out the Zofran last night.)

One day prior to the slam, I get all sweaty and forgetful and tired and short-tempered. About an hour ago I drove to the post office to mail a letter to Meredith (I’ll explain later.), and about ten minutes ago I spent a disturbing amount of time searching for the very letter that I mailed an hour ago. (It wasn’t here. Because it’s at the post office. Because I mailed it. An hour ago.)

All of this to say: Business as Usual, although the timing sort of sucks because there’s a PTO meeting tomorrow evening and Meredith leaves for 5th Grade Camp on Wednesday. I’m boring you.

Here. This is better. I’m standing on the edge of a tiny tattoo. I had Georgia O’Keeffe’s hands tattooed onto my ankle when I was 23 and I could tell you why, but I’d almost rather not. (The things you stir up in your head are often much more interesting than my reality. Girl, you know it’s true.) Anyway, a few nights back I said something on Facebook about my current craving for a tiny ambigram tattoo on my arm and then the idea sort of blossomed a bit more and a wonderful woman/artist stepped up and said she would help me, and all of a sudden I have a jpg file and the possibility of a consultation with a tattoo artist sometime soon.

I’m 43.


(Harper got a tattoo when she was four. She’s such a badass.)

So. Fifth grade camp. Meredith will be heading out with all of her fifth grade classmates on Wednesday, and they’ll be building fires and shooting arrows (at nothing that’s alive) and looking at stars and singing songs and catching (and kissing and releasing) fish and basically having the time of their lives until Friday at approximately 2:45 when they return to the outstretched arms of their weepy mothers. Meredith is Very Excited.

One more thing. Starting tomorrow, a good friend of mine and I are kicking off a week long adventure of not eating any processed foods. I spent the morning at the grocery store buying butternut squash (pre-cubed because I am not strong) and (the largest possible) SweeTango apples and (clean and ready) mushrooms and (I have no adjectives for my) sweet potatoes and things that are made up of ingredients that I understand. It’s going to be tough, but not so tough. It’s going to be simple and healthy and clean and beautiful. (Have I mentioned that I’ve been taking pills for the past three days? Get over here and braid my hair.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

This is your life and it’s ending one minute at a time.

Sometimes I’m really good at responding to comments at Fluid Pudding. Sometimes I’m just not. Please know that I’ll try to do better. Also, I love how so many people are with me on the “Hey. Let’s drop this extra weight.” gig.

How am I doing with that so far? This morning I weighed two pounds less than I did the last time I saw you. It’s probably part of the whole “two pound daily water weight fluctuation” thing that everyone talks about. I say this because I went to my parents’ house a few days back where I ate a half package of Double Stuf Oreos. (I really do hate that Nabisco leaves off the second f. Can anyone tell me why it’s not included? Is it so people like me will talk about it?) I definitely do not f-ing deserve to be two pounds down. Heh.

This morning I had a banana and coffee for breakfast before I went out for my run. I then returned home and found that one of my very favorite Facebook friends (who occasionally comments here, and I want to link to her so badly, but I’ll wait to gain her permission) had posted before and after shots that show how her body has changed shape since she started working out. It is incredible. Inspiring. It actually brought tears to my eyes. (I’m ovulating.)

So, yes. Fight Club. That’s what we’ll call it and that’s what we’ll do. After all, we’re fighting to escape the temptation umbrella that covers Double Stuf  [sic] Oreos and all of Double Stuf Oreos’ friends! Also, if I see one of you on the street, I just might punch you in the face to keep in the spirit of the game. Project Mayhem!!! (I still love all but one of you.)

The first step I’m going to take is to create a better playlist for my runs. I’ve been a little bummed about the fact that I’m still unable to run five kilometers without stopping. I’m also a little bummed that I don’t seem to be running very quickly at all. As I ran this morning, this song came on:

I absolutely love that song, but here’s the thing. I can’t read and listen to music. I can’t knit and listen to music. I really can’t do anything that requires concentration if music is playing. Similarly, because of the marching band feather that I tend to wear in my cap, I cannot walk or run unless it’s with the beat of the music. If I try to ignore the beat and concentrate on my pace, I end up sort of tripping because a small part of me is trying to put three eighth notes with every beat to meet my goal of hitting a ten minute mile. It’s a disaster. So, yeah. No more ballads.

With that said, I also need to be careful, because if I try to step on Leftie with every beat of this song, I’m going to be running faster than the neighborhood rabbits, and that’s when my legs tend to break. Such fence-dancing!

Scout got a haircut, and my camera went fuzzy.


Let’s see. After losing her iPod Nano nearly a year ago, Meredith finally found it yesterday in a tiny pouch on top of her dresser! We have been rejoicing.

Hey. Follow this link and scroll down to #4 on my Things I Love The Most in Life on Friday, April Sixth. (I’ll wait right here.)

Now, let’s sing a song about vicissitudes! Come to find out, the person who was elected to replace me as PTO treasurer dropped out during the summer. Because of our bylaws, only three people were eligible to fill the slot. One of the three said she would do it. (She is not me.) BUT, after thinking about WHY I don’t want to be on the board and also thinking about how the person who said she would do it already has an overflowing plate, I decided to put on my cocksure shoes and step up. As a result, I’ve spent this afternoon searching my closet for a confidence shirt to wear to tomorrow night’s meeting. I believe I’ll go with this one, and I believe I’ll have a Xanax with my traveling big girl cup of water.

I’ve lost my blue knitting notions bag. It’s full of tapestry needles and safety pins and a measuring tape and cable needles and stitch markers and several little pieces of yarn in various weights. If you see it, please let me know. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>