My brother is bemoaning his lack of progress in weight loss recently, brought about by unfortunate scheduling and occasional food indescretions. I also am experiencing this problem. After my horrendous weigh-in at the beginning of the month (188) I saw brief progress (got down to 184), but several more days of eating more than I should of stuff I probably shouldn't be eating at all (damn those french fries!), I bounced back up to 186, where I've sat for several days. No working out of course--today will be the first time in over a week I've hit the gym--so I really shouldn't be complaining too much. But I'm especially worried because of what's sitting on the desk next to me...

Paula Deen's Double Chocolate Ooey Gooey Butter Cake.

Oh, my God. This stuff is like mainlining chocolate. It takes two sticks of butter and a pound of powdered sugar. There's a whole box of chocolate cake mix. There are eggs and vanilla. And cream cheese. Is there anything not heavenly about this cake?

Anyway, this is my birthday cake. A coworker made it for me (and has made it for me the past few birthdays). Yes, tomorrow's my birthday--I'm turning 29 for the fifth time, for anyone keeping score. And the whole cake is sitting here, looking at me. Daring me, perhaps. I must resist. And we'll probably go out to dinner too. Dang it.

This birthday is going to be a rough one, cake temptation aside. Just another family holiday on the list of "first one without Mom". Like all the other family holidays so far (Mother's Day, my parents' anniversary, my anniversary), it's definitely going to suck. Of course, just the fact that Mom isn't here for it is enough to make it a downer, but there are other factors involved. As far as dates go, tomorrow is not just my birthday; it's six months to the day since Mom passed away. Not really the kind of day you want to celebrate. And my birthday comes two days before what would have been my mom's 64th birthday. Mom always said I was the best early birthday present she ever got, and it's just one more reminder that the best present I could have for my birthday this year is the one I can't have at all. I just miss her so much.

So think of me tomorrow, and on Monday as I say a little birthday prayer to my mom. I don't feel like celebrating much.

So, I started keeping track of weigh-ins at the beginning of last week. I was pretty appalled--I let myself creep back up to 188. Ick. What a waste of almost 15 lbs. I still haven't made it to the gym much, but just a shift in my daily schedule seems to be making a bit of a difference. I'm staying at school (where I have no snack food) in the afternoons now and grading, and then going to swim practice, so I'm not getting home until after nine. Even with a couple of trips to fast food restaurants for dinner (I've been pretty good, getting salads and wraps instead of burgers and fries), I've lost a few pounds. I weighed in at 184 this morning. Not bad for only a couple of workouts the past week and a half, and considering I had Mexican food, pizza, and steak this past weekend. I think the significant change is just that I'm actively moving around longer in the day (instead of parked in the easy chair watching TV in the evenings), and also I don't have any snacks available. I just need to keep that up--no storing food at work, at least, nothing snackable. I've been eating Healthy Choice meals (the small ones, under 300 cal) for lunches and some dinners, and the only interrim food I have is 100-calorie bags of microwave popcorn. Those really do hit the spot, and I rarely get tired of popcorn. I know I need to drink more water, so that's the next step. Also, now that I'm settling into a routine with swimming again, I should make workouts a little more regularly. Next week I plan to start up my mornings again. On the days that I go to practice, I will go to the pool before practice and swim. On the days I don't have practice I'll hit the gym on the way home. Along with the weight loss according to the scale I need to see improvement in my fat percentage and a change in the fit of my clothing.

Cross your fingers; this is where the ride starts.

I knew it was coming. And it still caught me.





I can't believe it happened. Lisa Moore died today.

I know, this probably isn't significant to most of you, but it is to me.

For those of you who have no idea what's going on, the comic strip Funky Winkerbean has been around for a while. I remember reading it when I was a kid. I always thought it was pretty funny, although it did occasionally deal with some pretty serious issues. Drugs, teenage pregnancy, death. Pretty heavy for the funny pages.

Several years ago, they went through a storyline where one character, Lisa Moore (who had gotten pregnant as a teenager in an earlier plotline), discovered she had breast cancer. She went through some very scary moments, survived her treatment, and went into remission. Again, pretty serious for the comics, but a great story. She became a hero, a survivor.

The story did not end there, though. Several months ago, Lisa got a call from the doctor, who explained that her x-rays had gotten mixed up with another patient's. The patient who thought she had breast cancer was fine. But Lisa's was back. She went into treatment again, but the cancer was tougher, more aggressive. Finally, a few weeks ago, Lisa decided enough was enough. She was done with treatment. She wanted to face her end under her own terms. The past couple of weeks she'd gotten weaker and weaker. She started saying goodbye to her loved ones. And today, she said goodbye to everything else.

A little emotional. First of all, it hearkens back to my feelings in April, when the doctor came in and delivered a similar message to my dad, brother, and me: "She's gone." Fear, sadness, loss. Then, the realization that, even though this isn't a real person, it is still the end of "someone" I've known for a long time. Heck, I was saddened in the Harry Potter books that some of the characters had to go, and I was BESIDE myself when Stephen King finished off Oy in such dramatic fashion in the final Dark Tower book (damn you, Stephen!).

Comics are supposed to be funny, aren't they? Oh sure, some have gotten a little cute here and there, maybe a little dark, too, but mostly they are just happy and joyful moments to lighten your day, right?

At least I got a little warning this time. I remember another shock I had, years ago, from For Better or For Worse, when April fell in the river. Faithful sheepdog Farley jumped in to the rescue, holding April's head above water until her father could pull her out. As the family crowded around, hugging April, someone looked down at the dog, and said, "I don't think he's breathing."






Seriously, who kills off the dog in a comic strip? What the hell's wrong with you?

Anyway, I mourned Farley then, and I mourn Lisa now.

I think I'll go back to just reading about the crocs trying to kill the zebra in Pearls Before Swine. At least I know they'll never get him...