The New Year's Weigh-in

Some years ago I started the (evil) tradition of weighing everyone in the family on New Year's Day and then recording it on the calendar.  The children have grown; the tradition remains for those of us left in the house: the husband and me.

There are two schools of thought on weighing yourself, those who swear that you should weigh yourself every day and those who follow my son's philosophy, "Nothing good ever comes from stepping on the scales."  I get that obsessing over weight isn't the healthiest of behaviors, but I can't resist weighing myself in the morning any more than I can resist eating a tootsie roll out of the candy bowl at the post office.  

Two years ago after reading Dr. Rob Thompson's book, Glycemic Load Diet*, Jerry & I decided to make some changes in what we eat. In a nutshell, we cut out five foods: potatoes, rice, flour, pop and fruit juice.  It was surprisingly easy.  The weight just melted off…..Jerry.  Me?  Not so much. 

Fast forward to today:  Jerry, who wasn't even fat to begin with, has reduced his cholesterol AND gotten rid of his beer belly.  He looks twenty years younger.    The New Year's Day weigh-in was a delight for him.  "I haven't weighed THIS in DECADES!"  He squealed with joy like a teenage girl.  (Okay, maybe I made that squealing part up.  Jealousy is an ugly emotion.)

When it was my turn, I weighed myself.  Then I took off all my clothes.  Wearing only my birthday suit, I weighed myself again.  I actually weighed more the second time.  I gained .4 pounds in two seconds.  My suspicions have been confirmed -- I can gain weight just breathing. I decided not to weigh myself a third time.

The good news is that overall, I lost four pounds last year.  And, since 2011, I've shed ten pounds.  Jerry, the superstar, is down twenty-six.  

As much as I wish these figures were reversed, there is a silver lining in having my husband be the big weight-loss winner.  He may get the new clothes but I get something even better - blissful nights of uninterrupted sleep. Turns out losing weight made him quit snoring.  Who'd have guessed?


*Dr. Thompson's newest book, The Sugar Blockers Diet, outlines an even easier plan.  I'd tell you here, but I don't want to spoil the surprise.

Time

Yesterday morning, the grands were quietly playing with Jerry's phone and one of them, unbeknownst to any us, stealthily changed the clock to "world time."  Who even knows what that means?

The day turned into night and we all retired for the evening.  When Jerry's alarm rang today, he was groggy but dragged himself out of bed just like every other day.  He threw himself into the shower to help wake up, dressed and then went to the kitchen to get a tea.  (Iced, sweet.)

It was as he was chugging down his pre-dawn caffeine fix that he chanced to glance at the clock on the stove.  At first, he thought the power must have gone out in the night.  He went into the living room, just to check.  It was 3:30.

When it dawned upon him what had happened, he went back to bed.  He struggled to get back to sleep but eventually he drifted off.  He must have finally entered that deep-sleep phase when his alarm rang because he says he didn't even hear it.  He woke up a half-an-hour later than normal and rushed around like a Tasmanian Devil.  He departed the house mere minutes after awakening.  Being "on time" is very important to Jerry and he was on time, even today.  As a matter of fact, he arrived early.

To review, he got up thirty minutes later than usual and was still able to arrive early to work.  To me that would be a green light to sleeping 30 minutes later every day.  To him it's just a good story.  As long as I live, I swear, I will never understand the workings of the male mind.

I'm Never Alone

Jerry has been away on business this week which means that I am all alone, or I would be if I didn't live at "The Zimmermans' Animal Spa and Wildlife Refuge."

We find bird-watching entertaining and have three feeders and a block of suet hanging off the roof of our front porch.  Right now both a bluebird and a red-headed woodpecker are snacking out there.  A cardinal is watching and waiting for his turn to swoop in.  A whole lot of whistling is going on and birds - lots of birds - are pooping on our deck and stairs, of this there is little doubt.

Earlier, one of (God only knows how) many squirrels was visiting the feeders.  Chasing squirrels from bird feeders is an exercise in futility so I don't. The birds don't seem to mind sharing, so why should I?  Plus, squirrels are fun to watch.  They are the trapeze artists in the cirque du soliel of the animal kingdom.

In the evening an old raccoon with a gray muzzle lumbers up the stairs and checks to see if the birds left any seeds uneaten.  Often he will stand up on his hind legs, put his front paws on the windows and stare inside.  He doesn't seem disturbed at all that we are sitting less than a yard away.

Just moments ago I looked out the window to my side yard and saw a young deer standing in my terraced flower bed eating a newly planted bush.  Out of the entire woods, this is where he chooses to munch.  When he saw me he gave me the "what?" look.  He knew he was being naughty and he knew I knew it too.  I used to see that exact look on our children's faces when I caught them involved in questionable activities, too.

Last night as I was drifting off to sleep I heard a blood-curdling cry like some  poor creature was being stabbed to death right underneath my window.  I didn't bother to get up and look out.  We live in the woods; it's dark here at night.   (This is not my first rodeo.)  When we heard these noises before, Jerry researched them on the internet.  The cries are either from an owl or a fox.  Surprisingly they sound a lot alike.   

Now there are two deer in my flowerbed...

...and people wonder why I don't watch t.v.