Friday Update

The Week of Severe Weather is almost over. Thank God.

It hasn't been that bad for me personally. The tornadoes that formed in Kansas, although big (EF2 and EF3) were far to the west or north and impacted very limited areas, although they impacted those a lot. The worst so far was the weather radio going off every 15 minutes starting at 2:30 this morning to tell me it was hailing.

Here's a hint: I already knew that. Hail makes a very distinctive sound against the roof, the rain gutters and my van. The Swamp isn't quite as upright and colorful as it was last night.

Really wish the phone camera hadn't chosen the screen as its focal point.

I am grateful for God's protection. My storm phobia continues to abate with a lot of prayer and behavioral reconditioning. I'm making progress.

Last week's cold has hung on and hung on, and I'm taking cold meds again. I'll suffer from dry mouth, but I can't take the headache and stuffy nose anymore. I hope the upset stomach will go away, too, but no guarantee on that.

I'm planning on going back to a strict blood-type diet until I feel better. No wheat, no red meat, no potatoes, no tomatoes. Lots of red fruit, greens, rice and fish until I get my immune system back. It's hard to eat a salad when I'm nauseated, but I'll try. The Swamp is swimming in my Early Spring Mix Lettuce. Bit of a hint at how off our weather is when Early Spring Mix is growing well in late May.

I'm in the final stretch of proof-reading P.A. Baines' second book, Alpha Redemption. This one's a keeper so far. I hope to have that finished this weekend and get back to proof-reading a second Splashdown book slated for publication this year.

Happy Friday, dear readers. Eat those greens and keep your head down.

Under Stress

Except for NAF posts, I haven't been around much, have I?

I'm having one of those mornings where I wander around almost starting things and getting distracted by the other thing I ought to do first. I should write a blog post, but I should run the sprinkler at the same time, but that means I should put clothes on, but I don't know what to wear, and I can write a post in my night clothes. So it goes.

I've been under stress lately. Not nervous breakdown levels, but persistent, pervasive stress. Stress at work. Stress with a group I belong to. Stress with the weird weather and my plans for The Swamp. Even stress with Zynga, which has led to the much-needed and long-awaited weaning from Farmville and the stress that comes with losing that outlet. Even my mouse is causing me stress. I think it's broken. It keeps over-clicking things, which may have led to my stress with Zynga.

Long ago, I would have relieved my stress by bringing it to this blog and venting for a while. I can't really do that anymore.

My job is confidential. I am the cemetery and funeral home auditor for the State of Kansas (they won't let me call myself Graveyard Investigator, but I keep trying). I look at bank records and whatnot to make sure the money people prepay for their funerals is where it needs to be to fund those funerals when they happen.

Yeah. I don't know how I got this gig, either.

Anyway, I can't just show up here and pop off every time I get irritated at work. It's unprofessional, and inappropriate and I plain won't do it. Same goes for the group I'm working with. I can't vent here. People in that group could read this blog. It's unlikely, but possible. Unfortunately, I don't have anyplace else to pop off. I've lost My Dear Friend to new love, my Best Friend to her job and family (not her fault, she's a teacher), and the Fam have lives of their own, although I truly appreciate their efforts to include me. Turtles don't clump.

I studied Human Development in college. When we got to this age, the 40-50 range, I remember thinking, "That'll be my time. My married friends (even then, I knew I wouldn't marry) will be launching their children. They'll have more time for socializing, for rediscovering the world outside their little nests."

Didn't occur to me all my friends would be divorced and working on creating new nests with totally different people. This is why you can't count on humans. They continuously interrupt your plans.

Happy Thursday, dear readers. Put your good clothes on. You'll need them today.

Where to Start?

Ah, the trials of writing the Epic Fantasy. I dissect it a bit over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

The Perfect 10...K (vs the 150K)

I discuss a growing pet peeve over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

Warm Monday

This morning I awoke to temperatures that apparently will be higher than the highest temp for the week starting Wednesday. We have a chance of snow (yes, in May) and a chance of frost. Winter won't let go in Kansas.

I'm going to try to stop talking/writing about it. I'm tired of listening to myself, so I know you all are tired of hearing about it. You're cold, too. And if you're not, I suggest you keep it to yourself. I'm in no mood.

I bought a van-load of flowers this weekend, some perennials, some annuals. I have until Tuesday to get them in the ground before the snow and frost will kill them. I'm writing this while I wait for the sun to come up. I can get a few planted before work. I'm going to spend as much time outside during the next two hot, sunny days that I can.

It occurred to me yesterday my sleepless nights might be caffeine-related. Due to the cold weather, I've been drinking hot tea in the evenings and hot lattes whenever someone offers. That all stops. I'll drink hot water instead. I also took Valerian root last night and slept until 4:30 without waking up for the first time in seven days.

While turning the compost piles yesterday, I realized I may not get any more shreddable leaves out of last year's bags to use as mulch. Thanks to the rain and snow - yes, I'm trying to be grateful - the compost is composting quickly. If I don't add more to the pile I've got, I might get usable compost in a few weeks at this rate, and that's as good as mulch, I guess.

Well, the sun's up and I can see the ground. That means I'm out into The Swamp to plant.

Happy Monday, dear readers. Catch a few rays if you can and think of me.

Relief in Sight?

I'm tired - literally and figuratively - of waking up around 1 to 2 AM and not going back to sleep. It's happened to me every night this week, so it's little wonder why I'm bouncing back slower than usual.

I don't like it when my schedule gets disrupted. Maybe it's my propensity for motion sickness, but turning my world upside down makes me angry and upset. I don't like being out of control and I avoid it whenever possible. Not saying this is a good thing. Just sayin'.

TT: Most people would agree with the above statement, but it's been my observation that most people handle stress better, or invite it into their lives faster, than I do. Why else would people marry and have children? Or join social clubs? Or date? Pure chaos, all of it.

All the areas of my life are swirling this week. The job is getting more stressful, and, while answers are coming, they don't seem to be coming fast enough, which leads to stress about failing at what I do. Normally, I would go out into the garden to restore some perspective, but the weather has been less than cooperative, which leads to more stress. Finally, my "alone" time is being infringed by social demands I'd rather not meet but must, which leads to more stress.

In short, I'm having a bad week.

However, I have learned that eventually everything smooths out again. Stress, like life, is cyclical.

Happy Friday, dear readers. I feared it wouldn't come but here it is. Let's make the best of it. 

Why Writers Are to Writers As Florists Are to Florists

This has been floating about in my head for a while. Decided to let it out over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

No Stress Relief for the Weary

I garden to reduce stress. That hasn't been working for me lately.

For the third time this month, I have covered my lilac bush with pillow cases to protect the five potential blossoms from killing frost. Why? Because that lilac has never bloomed before. Thirteen years it's lived here without blooming, and the first year it tries, we get 25 degree lows and 40 degree highs in April on a regular basis.

I've laid awake this month thinking about the garden. How to protect the plants. When to harden the seedlings. How many more should I plant because these might be frozen to death in May? When can I shred leaves that won't result in electrocuting myself or ruining my Leaf Hog? Is the whole year going to be wet and cold or should I buy mulch while I can because May will launch the Summer of 100 Days of 100 Degrees?

I'm not kidding. I'm more stressed about The Swamp this month than I have been the last two years of my depression.

I have no business being upset. We desperately need the rain, so if it comes with unseasonably cold temperatures, I should just suck it up. Lower temps also mean less likelihood of damaging storms, so I'm getting a pass on storm phobia in April. That should make me happy. It doesn't.

I want Winter to be over. I want sun-drenched Kansas skies, not snow. I want to open my windows and stop paying heating bills for one month before I have to pay air conditioning bills.

Most of all, I want my lilac to bloom this year. I don't think that's too much to ask.

The Swamp April 22, 2013

If the universe revolved around me, I'd say some Higher Power doesn't want me to grow beans this year. I'm pretty sure the four I planted outside are dead, the seven Skamper chewed on are near dead and the twelve more seeds I planted last week aren't sprouting. Even if they were, I wouldn't have a place to put them because we seem caught in the Groundhog Daymare of a cold front a week sweeping in snow and freezing temperatures. In late April. In Kansas.

In the way of humans, I'm not rejoicing that all but one pea plant is doing well. I even like peas better than beans. What I don't like is failure, and, yes, apparently I believe I have the power to make things grow.

This weekend involved a myriad of projects. The south side planting was intended to be low maintenance, but when bermuda grass is involved, there's no such thing. I've not fought it as hard as I should because I don't like being on the south side of the house. It's hot and the neighbors are weird over there. But, those neighbors are selling their house, so I need to pretty up the south side.

I've broken my own rule and started using grass killer. It's really the only way to keep bermuda grass in check. If you're not familiar with this Kansas jewel, bermuda grass grows anywhere, spreads through seeds and runners (both above and below ground) and can smother existing plants in less than one season. I hate it. I don't know if it's a native plant or an invasive import, but it's a pain in any gardener's back and I will do what's necessary to kill it.

The south side has barberries, a rose bush, lamb's ear (unintentional but it thrives, so I'm leaving it) and maroon chrysanthemums. The mum had split into several tiny mums so I transplanted them. Now I have to mulch and water heavily this year to keep them, but it's worth it. I'll be checking on the stupid grass anyway.

Sunday saw more transplanting. I broke up a healthy patch of lemon thyme. If the basil I planted lives (highly doubtful at this time), it also goes into the herb bed. The bees and I loved the basil last year, so I hope to triple the number of plants I put in. You can't really see the thyme in this pic, but this is the herb bed. The containers hold my "peas in a pot" seedlings. Glad they're cool weather plants.

Finally, I did something I've meant to do for a while and broke up a few big clusters of plants into several small clusters of plants.

The far left plant is a pink shrub rose. I'll regret putting it here because it grows like bermuda grass and sports more thorns than your average cactus, but it survived the arborists, so I kinda respect it. The green onion looking things are daffodils. Wrong time of year, I know, but the weather thinks it's fall, so I'm going with it. I divided the grape hyacinths, too. The bright green babies are variagated hostas, and the fluffy, parsley looking things are true geraniums, bloody cranesbill by common name. The only problem is these are shade plants and this spot is no longer shady. They may all die in a month or two, but they survived last year's drought and 100+ temps, so they may not. I'll mulch the crap out of them, too.

My biggest garden concern this year is the lack of earthworms. I don't know where my little garden buddies have gone, but I've found precious few. I can only assume I'm not mulching enough to give them cool, moist earth to work. That will change this year.

Happy Monday, everybody. If you see the sun, think of me. I'll be dreaming of seeing it again.

The Swamp April 16, 2013

Since the only part of Spring showing up this year is the longer days, I've decided I'll garden anyway. Yesterday I pulled on my sweatshirt and heavy socks before trudging out back after work. If it's not raining tonight, I'll use earmuffs, too. Would you believe we have a chance of accumulating snow by Thursday night? Normally, we'd be in the 70's.

I spent about two hours unwinding from a day with cemeteries by - what to call it? cleaning the garage? It's going to take about four weeks' worth of trash pickup for that to happen, but I started.

See, I like my newest van, and I'm concerned about hail damage, but I have never, ever parked one of my vehicles in my garage. The garage is sliding off its foundation and down the gentle slope of my back yard, so the door is tricky and not worth fighting with on a daily basis.

TT: I wish I had the expertise to repair the garage. Whenever I ask a man/contractor, I get a look that, well, let's just say I'm tired of getting that look. To my untrained eye, I need to jack up the building, remove the broken concrete slab with a jackhammer, pour a new slab and new concrete supports and put the garage back down. Then I could have a solid garage I could electrify and convert from a wild animal shelter to an actual place for my vehicles. However, I don't know how to do any of that and most men seem to believe the cheaper and easier version is to demolish the garage and put up a new one. That's assuming I could get a permit for another garage, something I'm not convinced I could do. Not many houses around here comparable to mine have garages. Since I'm not made of gold, I guess I'll just let it demolish itself.

Where was I?

I have about four cubic yards of horse manure left, and I raided (with permission) the departing neighbors' compost pile for another six, and I dug through my own compost pile until I found the useable stuff way at the bottom, so I'm good with dirt for a bit. I'm setting up all my bins, too. They've been stored long enough. Time to remember who I am.

The four green beans I planted last weekend are hanging on, barely. I don't know if they'll survive snow. Should I pull them up and bring them inside until the weather warms? Except Skamper has a taste for beans now. I doubt they'd survive him. Another excellent reason to have a garage.

Oh, well. This post has turned into a bit of a downer. My apologies.

After filling my trash bin with garage overflow, I mowed the lawns. I need to rake up fall debris out front to add to the compost bins and maybe do some reseeding, but I have seed and dirt, so that's doable. While mowing the tiny strip in the back, I saw the seeds I planted in March are sprouting. That pleases me.

I finished the evening's workout with the section of garden around the "Early Girl" tomato plant, where I pulled enormous dandelions, worked compost into the soil and set up the beginning of the support trellis. That's the trick with The Swamp. One bite at a time, one bed at a time, one plant at a time.

It's a journey, not a destination. We'll grow beautiful and strong together.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. Look for the happy today. We all need it.

The Longer I Live the More I Wanna Be a Zombie

Forget vampires. Vampires have become the yell leaders of the undead, sparkling their way around high school campuses and charming the blood out of the down-trodden.

That's too social for me. The more I interact with people, the more I see the bonus in eating them alive and moving on.

Why do people get worse as they get older instead of better? Why don't we get softer? After a lifetime of practicing life, shouldn't we be more patient, more rational, more flexible? That's not been my experience. Add a few years to anybody and you're dealing with an impatient, bitter hardhead. Is this American entitlement at work? The "I'm too old for this ...." syndrome?

Here's a reality check. No one is too old to practice civility.

I suppose it's another manifestation of the Fall and my old nemesis Entropy. Everything falls apart over time.

A nice segueway into a profitable weekend in The Swamp. I've planted lettuces and beets after preparing their bed with horse manure and potting soil. I put out a few of the beans and peas, although I'll have to cover them later in the week when our temps dip below freezing. I knew it was a gamble. Last frost date in Kansas is April 15. I've held a few plants back just in case.

We have unsettled weather for the next few days, which means we may get rain for my new plantings or we may just get frightened by predictions of severe storms. I'm praying for the former and God's grace for the latter.

Finally, I scraped my knee Friday afternoon and I can't describe how much it hurts, even four days later. I'm not kidding. It's kept me awake at night when the blanket rubs across it. Walking hurts. Bending it hurts, sometimes so much my breath catches and my eyes tear. It's been a long time since I've scraped anything and I don't remember this kind of pain. I have no idea what I'm going to wear to work that won't irritate it more.

Which is another reason I'd rather be a zombie. They never worry about what to wear and they don't seem to mind getting limbs ripped off their bodies, let alone a quarter-sized piece of skin.

Yep. Zombie good.  Happy Monday, dear readers.

Your Story, Your Integrity

I'm lecturing elsewhere today. Check it out over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

A House of Bed

Have I mentioned I tend to go to bed when I'm cold? I should put on a sweater and jump around until I heat up, but that's just not my nature (as my increasing backside will attest).

Warmth has stalled out somewhere to the south of Kansas. Even with a shining sun, we just can't get rid of the north wind. That sends me to bed with an electric blanket instead of outside where The Swamp so desperately needs my attention. This wouldn't be so bad if I did something productive while I'm in there - writing or reading, for example - but I don't. I curl up under the simulated warmth and dream of truly warm days, fresh asparagus and potted peas with blueberries.

Most people think Spring is Summer Lite, but I understand Spring is that mix of Winter and Summer that sometimes means you're happy and sometimes means you're miserable. It's felt a bit miserable the last 10 days.

The sun shines. I'm truly grateful for that.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. Put your coats on.

A Shovelful of Spring

For the one out of tenth time, the weathermen were right and snow fell in Kansas. Seems it's unusual to have an accumulating snow at this time of year. I shoveled about two inches off my driveway and six inches off my deck (difference between sheltered from wind and not). While it was an easy snow to shovel - dry and fluffy - I managed to strain my lower back for the second time this season. I'll be stretching gently throughout the day.

Two weeks ago, I planted paper egg cartons with dwarf bush peas, mixed basil and purple, yellow and green beans and put them in my guest room greenhouse. The big seeds sprouted in two days (ignore the package germination times; I've not yet found them to be accurate), and the basil finally pushed up Saturday. The trick now is providing enough light to keep the little buggers healthy until April. I plan to buy a stick-up grow light in the next few days, probably after the snow melts. I have more seeds to plant, but those are cool-weather seeds and they can go outside sooner than yellow squash and zucchini.

The Swamp is taking shape. Thanks to increased moisture this year, I'm moving dirt like a pro.

TT: Odd that I've shoveled lots of dirt for several hours over several days without injury, yet a few shovelfuls of basically whipped cream frosting should cause muscle distress.

Unfortunately, the arborists left more clay than soil in their efforts to destroy my yard, so the dirt I'm relocating is not what I would hope. I've been wracking my brain and my bankbook in my plans to get some real dirt faster than I can make it with no green stuff and no water to put in my compost piles. Then God decided to be kind.

One of my co-workers has three horses, a yard of chickens and a willingness to share poop. Once I get some directions, I'll be shoveling like a ranch hand. Here's hoping The Swamp appreciates my efforts by providing more than 14 peas this year.

Since chicken manure is "hot," (high in nitrogen, I guess), it'll go into the existing compost piles, which are in desperate need of some heat. They pile the horse manure for their own gardens, so it should be able to go straight into the garden without distressing the neighbors. Should this influx of natural fertilizer work, I'll post pics of new grass, thriving peas and a field of basil for the bees and my pesto. Should it not work... Well, God willing, there's always next season.

Happy Monday, dear readers. Enjoy the weather, whatever it is. If you're in Kansas, it'll change in 5 minutes anyway. 

New Life

I love Spring. Had I married, I would have done it on the Vernal Equinox.

Just finished a Bible study series using The Life, by Bill and Anabel Gillham. Interesting stuff. My favorite Bible study leader loves the Gillhams, so I've seen samples of their videos previously, but this time we went through all of them.

Here's the nutshell:

The Fall broke the spiritual connection between man and God and plunged man into spiritual death. Christ's sacrifice restored the spiritual connection. When a man accepts Christ, he is a new creation. The old has gone, the new has come. Bill's favorite verse is Gal 2:20, and you can read that in the link.

OK. We become new. What does that mean? Why, then, do we continue to do what we do not want to do, like Paul laments in Romans 7?

Dr. Gillham, in his Oklahoma way, says we become "spirit critters" when we accept Christ but we remain in our "flesh suits." Our flesh suits have spent however many years being trained to act dead to Christ, because that's what we were, but our flesh doesn't control us. Christ indwells us through the Holy Spirit and Christ leads our mind and will.

Sin can attack from the outside, but it isn't in me anymore. Christ is in me. Christ leads my mind and will. Sometimes sin wins, because it uses first person singular pronouns when it attacks to make me think it's my idea, but my acceptance by Christ remains secure. I am His; He is mine.

That's just semantics, right? What difference does it make?

It's the difference between "good me" fighting "bad me" vs. sin trying to squeeze back into a space already fully occupied by a risen Christ. The war was won by Christ. The little battles are won by allowing Him to occupy my flesh suit and teach me to be the spirit critter He raised from the dead when I accepted His lordship.

Naturally, the videos go into far more depth, and provide the scriptural teachings and in-depth illustrations that bring the idea to life, but I thought I'd give you a taste since I may be writing more about it as I continue to ponder.

Happy Wednesday, dear readers, and Happy Spring. The old has gone. The new has come.

Dream a Little Dream

I awoke from a story dream this morning. One of those dreams that sort of makes sense, that has tension and characters and possibility for a writer. Hasn't happened to me in a looooong time.

Put my schedule off. First, because I didn't want to wake up. I wanted to see how it played out, which isn't easy to do with Focus on the Family interrupting on the alarm clock.

Second, because I had to write it down. I have to write it down. I'll absolutely forget the whole thing before I shower if I don't. Of course, I had to capture the feelings when I wrote it down. Details don't matter much in dreams, although some details make it fun. It's the feelings I'd convey later, should I play around with this subconscious plot attempt.

I started fleshing it out. What would this story look like? Who are these characters and why are they here? Should I stick with the reality of what I saw or go for some symbolism, which, let's face it, is what comprises most dreams? All kinds of choices.

Farmville got in the way (shocking). Kept having freezing issues with the program.

Thinking about this potential story got me thinking about Price of Justice, and Rhami's dilemma, and how easy it would be to solve. Why hadn't I thought of that before? Is that what I want to do, though? Is it good drama or real life? I should write a short story about how Rhami wed Galena. I could publish it in a collection with other backstory shorts set in Ah'rahk. What would I call my publishing company if I ever self-published? What would my publishing logo look like? Why can't I find anything to wear? Don't I know I have a meeting today with strangers? I have to look professional. I've got to get gas, too, maybe at lunch. The weatherman says snow is coming mid-week, and it will be the one-in-ten chance he's right if I don't put gas in the van.

Yep. That's how it goes sometimes, and that's why I'm glad I wrote it down.

Happy Tuesday. Sweet dreams.

Back To Work

If not posting is any indication, the vacation went well. For three days, bright, sunny weather called me out of bed at the crack of dawn and I hit the ground running until the sun ran out and the heat retreated south. Then I stayed in bed with the covers drawn over my head. Eh. I would have done that anyway most Saturdays.

The problem with vacations (and one reason I forget to take them) is the catching up required upon return to the daily grind. I'm curious about how many messages I'll have in my voice mail. My last day off garnered four.

The weather has turned mostly gloomy and cold again, and I'd much rather spend those days in the office anyway. I don't feel like I'm missing anything outside. I do hope the sun makes at least a brief appearance daily. This Turtle feels his absence. 

I did seed a patch of The Swamp, which sounds simple but required moving dirt from here to there with a shovel, hoe and rake while removing the snapped branches and churned up rocks that led to such despair last season. Ah, well. New year, new plan, new strength. God willing, the moisture will continue at a useful pace and I can put my Swamp in order.

Happy Monday, dear readers. Love God and love your neighbors, for all the commandments are summed up in these.

Vacation: Day One

I often forget to take vacation. I never go anywhere (on purpose) and I rarely do anything (on purpose), but I have learned I must get away from my daily job, whatever that is, no matter how much I like it or I become very, very cranky. Everybody needs a break. Even God.

God has provided (if the weatherman is to be believed) three beautiful weather days for my vacation. I intend to make good use of them in The Swamp. You might think March is a bit early for working in the garden, but last year I planted tomatoes in March and harvested in April. Of course, last year was weird.

This year has been more normal weather-wise, so I likely won't be planting, but the compost needs turning and dirt needs moving and dead plants need removing and ground needs preparing - all that sort of thing. Since I also need exercise and plenty of sunlight for mood enhancement, this should work well.

At the moment, I'm waiting for the plumber to replace the main shut off valve in my house. It isn't broken, technically, but it failed to perform to standard during last week's toilet valve replacement. I'd rather deal with it in controlled circumstances than wait for it to blow up on a holiday weekend and cost me time and a half plus the water bill.

I've discovered it's very easy to round up cats when you don't plan to do it. They can't anticipate what you don't know. Everyone but Caleb is in the guest room, and none of them are happy about it. They'll thank me when the scary man invades their basement hideaway and makes loud noises and bad smells. Or they won't. They're cats, after all.

I'll also be dropping off the tax stuff at the accountant's. Let's hope that all goes well, shall we?

Happy Wednesday, dear readers. The plumber arrives.

Random Tuesday

The honeymoon's over. I woke up 20 minutes before my alarm. I got up and broke a nail on my bedroom door frame. Here's hoping that's the worst that happens today and not an omen. My vacation starts tomorrow, so mostly, I just have to live through today.

Last night, I learned the best way to cook raw black beans is in a crock pot. Alas, I learned it too late to save the onion. I also spent two hours concocting a layered, meatless casserole that turned out to be bean dip. It tastes OK, and the black beans add crunch, but I'll need to rethink that idea.

I'm starting to feel like a cemetery auditor. Not sure exactly what that means, except when I get to work, I have a plan for the day, I execute the plan, and normal people react like I know what I'm doing. Doesn't mean I do, just means I'm fooling the masses. Maybe that's how it works in any job. I have learned the answer to nearly every question is "check the statute." Isn't that the answer to nearly every question anyway?

The cats continue to gain familiarity with the catwalks. Miss Kitty is up there 60% of the time, and the rest join her at various times throughout the day. I can't remember the descriptive phraseology, but cats have territories that relate to time. A cat may choose a sunny east window in the morning, move to a southern exposure in the afternoon and camp out on the vent in the evenings and he won't care that another cat has taken one of his spots after he vacates it. That's a good thing. The more spots I provide, the less chance they'll all want the same one at the same time. Except they're cats and that's how they roll. Anyway, Miss Kitty, Skamper and Skuttle have all played tag in 3D, so I'm getting value for my investment.

I will finish my taxes tonight. I don't care anymore if I get back everything I've got coming. I just want it done.

Farmville has added yet another farm - Atlantis. I'm sure Caprice is thrilled but it's officially too much. To keep morning play at the one hour I've allowed myself, I'll have to ignore 3 or 4 farms from now on, and stop harvesting most of my buildings. I may catch up on the weekends. I may not.

Since I've officially stopped paying attention to word count, I'm writing again. That's good.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. Keep a nail file handy. You may need it.

That's It; I'm Fat

I love Daylight Savings Time (even if it is an example of government over-reach). This is the first time in two months I've slept in. Yes, I consider 5 AM sleeping in.

I'm hesitant to say the depression is over, but it sure seems over. I'll finish my second bottle of Saint John's Wort and give life a try on my own again. Same with the 5-HTP, although I might continue taking that one for another bottle. The problem with that is it works best on an empty stomach, and my stomach is almost never empty.

Which brings me to my point. I'm fat. Oh, not the "downward side of fame" actor fat, but more the "fourth season of prime time hit" fat, where the steady paycheck is assured and you don't have to look good for it (Have you watched Castle lately? Come on, Nathan, I expect more of you).

Those who know me in person may raise a skeptical eyebrow, but I assure you, a 5'9" frame and loose clothing hide a multitude of sins. I'm not seeing it in my face yet (just the sagging jowls and neck wrinkles of typical aging), but that will come. 

My clothes tell me I'm fat since I don't own a scale. Scales are liars. Don't trust them. Don't associate with them. Don't even let them in your house. A scale can make you think you're fat when you're not. A scale can make you think you're fit when you're not. Best to avoid them.

My problem, of course, is the age-old problem of many fat people: too much of the wrong food and too little exercise. I've managed my weight most of my life by choosing food wisely and limiting indulgences, but I suspect the age has come when that's not going to be enough. Exercise, my old enemy, must be engaged and harnessed if I have any hope to avoid the Marlon Brando trap.

I'm saying "fat," but odds are I'm just "over-weight" at this point. I was within acceptable limits at my physical in January, so my current state is doubtless too much wheat. This always happens when I consistently ignore my blood type diet. I've followed this diet for about 10 years and maintained my weight without difficulty by sticking to the "80/20" guideline, eating more "beneficial" foods than "avoids," and the barest minimum of exercise.

I have a health assessment coming up in early May. I plan to up my exercise quotient and lower my wheat intake over the next two months to see if I can get a better score than I did at the doctor's in January. Nice to have a goal.

If you know your blood type and have trouble with your health, you might just check out that website. It's done me a world of good at very little cost (I got the book used on Amazon). If you don't know your blood type, you can find out by giving blood. That's how I learned. 

Happy Monday, dear readers. Thank God for it. He likes that.