This is what comes of it

This is what comes of spending 3 days in decent weather. And gloating about it. Freakin' 82 degrees outside, feels like 85. Beastly.

This is what comes of spending 3 days where the time is an hour behind me. I get used to waking up at 6:00 instead of 5:00. So today I didn't wake up until well past 6:40, which by the time I got my arse out the door it was past 7:00. Ghastly.

This is what comes of spending three days running on what locals call "flat" paths, but what I know damn well were freakin' hills. I ran three and half miles, at not anything close to my all-out effort, and clocked about 10:15/mile. Rock on.

So, negative X negative = positive. Hey, Edward James Olmos was right.

Plus, I lost two pounds while I was gone. Which puts me right at exactly 15 pounds away from where I need to be. Which is still 15 pounds higher than my "ideal" weight, but which I was quite happy at for two years before the Winter-of-Job-Stress-from- Beyond-the-Depths-of-Hell-in-Which-my-Body-Stopped- Cooperating-with-the-Program that stretched into the Spring-of-Why-Bother-Trying- Just-Pass-me-the-Cheesecake-Because-my-Jeans- Don't-Fit-Right-Anyway-so-I-May-as-Well-Not-Deny-Myself. Which is still better than last week. You do the math, I'm too dehydrated.

Now to wring out the clothes and find something to eat. I think I hear my smoothie calling me. Gotta do something with the six overripe bananas on the counter. Dear sweet Hub apparently didn't offer the children any fruit while I was gone. I'm afraid they sustained themselves on waffles and sausage products. And Grandma's cooking, of course. But they did survive and live to tell about it.