My Year of Meaningful (2011)

I feel like a FREEEAK lately. My body is all F'ed up from The Great Knee Injury of '06, making me totally unfit because my exercise regime that has been a major part of my life since .... forever has been indefinitely cancelled. APATHY! I'm a friggin BREEDING GROUND for it at present.

Meaning I'm getting FAT. I am SO annoyed.

And therefore the most unbelievable chain of knock-on events begins:

No exercise = the body gets lazy.

My body gets lazy = my mind gets lazy.

Lazy mind = It's easier to surf the net than work hard.

Lazy mind = it's easier to flip on the tv than practice banjo or read.

Lazy mind = sticking to diet is too hard.

Lazy mind = it's too hard to write emails to friends.

Friendship maintenece = low, = losing touch with important people.

Feeling lonely = bad attitude, low tolerance for people.

Bad attitude = lack of enthusiasm to work, exercise, stick to healthy eating plan, whatever.

(above) = FAT!

UGH.

It's ALL related to the damn knee. I've had it with this knee! I can see my friendship maintenence ability slipping by the wayside. Am I writing Podgey, Vincey, Tadhgy, Alan, Scott, etc, etc, etc as much as I used to? No. Am I calling my friends? Negatory. I can see the stream of emails that used to flood my inbox starting to diminish off into a petty trickle.

Friendship is pretty obvious in its mechanism. You get back what you put in, and when i'm lazy I get NUH, because I put in NUH, making me feel even more annoyed and pissy and it all just turns into a vicious cycle of piss & poo.

Well anyway I started going to Tracy for physio, and she's getting me back on an exercise regime that involves lame, easy, not-real-exercise movement. We're gonna rehab that fecker and get me back on the squash court, the running trail, the yoga studio, the playing field, etc. Okay? Damn! I need some motivation! Where's my motivation!? (It's in my bikini for next summer)

I'm annoyed about Tracy though cuz it's all RUSH RUSH RUSH. 30 minute sessions MAX and she doesnt release my muscles as well as Tim (in Ireland) did. Plus it's damn expensive. But you gotta pay to play I suppose.

I'm toying with the idea of helping coach soccer for kids. She mentioned that some Canadian girl at the Gaborone Club who used to do training for both boys and girls has recently left. And they may be looking for someone.

Hmmmm... the brain stirrs (for the first time in awhile)....

OH YES I was going to write all about the big weekend. But I ended up doing it on the granny-friendly blog. Except I forgot to add the part about kayaking and the photos thereof. Blogger really annoys me as of late with regard to posting photos, so I just couldnt bear to do it twice. OK here's a token photo. I seem to prefer using this blog for bitching and moaning and that one for uh, whatever.

Right so, the Mr. got his hair cut (so did I, actually). It's always so traumatic moving towns/countries and losing your trusted hairdresser. We both always seem to end up with like a billion chop-jobs before finding THE ONE. but it looks like we hit the jackpot on the first try this time. MAN my hair was nappy. And his receeding hairline was NOT going well with the whole jill-cut-this--herself-hairstyle-thing. So we went to the local 5-star swanky hotel where there'd be sure to be at least *someone* who can cut European hair.... sure enough, this LOVELY girl from Zim, Irene did a stellar job on mine. We talked about spinach and chicken and fruit and , and Steve (from Zambia) gave the Mr. a nice cut (albeit a wee bit short for my liking) that is definitely NOT a typical irish-butcher-style. Except it makes him look too much like his brothers. Whoops. But I assure you it would be considered "to the liking of the general public".

MAJOR power outage last night. Not only did we have to have a romantic candlelight dinner, but I had to have a romantic candlelight working-at-home session. BARF. It was out for like, 3 hours or something.

THOSE KITTENS LIVING IN MY KITCHEN ARE ON CRACK! They are hilarious. I have no more to say about that one.

Last night I dreamt that my parents were going to FORCE my dearly beloved husband to marry someone else. I think it was some rich debutant or who knows what but it was a hostage situation whereby someone would die if he did not marry this beeyotch.

I begged and pleaded with my dad and the answer was a firm NO! SHUTUP STUPID GIRL BEFORE I KILL YOU! and i cried and cried and was so devistated i nearly cried to death, and there was this one scene in the dream where I raced upstairs to the balcony of my parents church back home in Missouri (where the wedding was taking place - in a PACKED standing room only ceremony) and found this girl Liz S. I knew from High School (havent seen nor heard from her in 10 years - WTF was she doing there!?) who consoled me with hugs and a soothing voice (yeah righ, LIZ?!) and tried to comfort me, and we nearly succeeded in hatching a plot to stop the wedding - Nearly. It had something to do with me getting eye-contact with my dad who would be in the choir, and putting on a severely hurt, pouty face, like the kind of face that would make you forget your nasty blackmail hostage-related plan and change your mind for this pitiful daughter of yours.

But the plan never got carried out because I had to wake up.

And now, I'm going to finish this blog entry off with a random photo of a vulture sunning himself, from this weekend. CUZ IT'S THERE AND I CAN!

mmmmm yummy warm on a chilly autumn morning....

Actually I look over there <---------- at my husband and I can see that this haircut is pretty hot. I just have to stop associating it with the various farm boys back in Holland that we know with this similar 'do.