Despite all his protests, Andrew really does love Melia. I was lucky enough to have the camera ready when he made his move.

Andrew wanted me to take a picture of him on “his very own third birthday”. How could I refuse?
(His chin is chapped because he sucks on his bottom lip all the time. Crazy kid.)

The little buggy is three years old today. The days so far have been more good than bad, and more great than good.

Happy Birthday, Andrew!

Every Christmas I stock up on new music, thanks to the itunes gift card that finds its way in to my stocking.

So far, my two favorite new albums have been Into The Wild by Eddie Vedder and Heart Attack Time Machine by Waterdeep.

On the surface, they appear very different. Songs inspired by movie, written by a rock god, and the latest social commentary from some of my favorite under-the-radar Christians. But these albums work together. Both longing for more, lost and unfulfilled, disappointed in everything and everyone. These are not the soundtracks for your sunny days. They are winter albums. Quiet albums. They were not made for singles or radio play. They were crafted by artists to be listened to straight through, to stop what you are doing and write down that phrase. To sit still and look at the way things are. To cry and scream and run away. To search.

Right now, these albums are the soundtrack of my journey.

my group gets canceled because of the coming snow storm.

I had a good week last week. I made a few changes to the food plan and tried a couple of new tactics to keep the food under control. So far they seem to be working, if the scale at the gym is any indication. This morning it read 206. Usually it is about 2-3lbs lighter than the scale at my meeting so I am assuming I would weigh in at 208-209 on that scale.

Yay.

I tried a new form of meal planning this week, basically making a list of everything I was going to eat that day and crossing things off as I ate them. It seems really simple and dumb, but it worked for me. If I wanted to eat something, I just looked at the list. When there was nothing left on the list, I was done eating for the day. I also switched from tracking my nutrition through the diabetic exchanges to just plain counting calories. For some reason I never fully wrapped my head around the exchanges and whenever I double-checked my calories to see if I was hitting my target, I was always a couple hundred calories off. That seemed like a signal that I should do something different. One week in, I like the seeming simplicity of counting calories. I also like that I can better track my protein, carbohydrate and fat intake with this system. It feels more objective, which makes my inner control freak very, very happy.

The cold is still hanging on. I got some antibiotics and am feeling better, but still rockin’ that sexy smokers cough. ugh.

Now, I’m going to wait for the snow.

It’s January, so we are again in the midst of hacking coughs, little boys with nebulizers, and general, head-cold-unhappiness.

Andrew is on the mend. We caught his early and he turned the corner a few days ago.

In true, stubborn Jenny-fashion, I ignored the onset of my own cold, telling myself that I too was on the mend. This is a lie. Yesterday, my alarm went off and I got out of bed and went to the gym. Halfway through my workout I started coughing and couldn’t stop. I came home and cursed my lame immune system.

I decided to take today and tomorrow off, reasoning that an extra hour of sleep would be more beneficial than working out.

I am still planning on taking a long run on Saturday. We’ll see how that goes, as the forecast is for snow. If nothing else, I will run on the treadmill.

This sucks! I know that my body needs to rest in order to get better, but I feel like every time I get a little bit of momentum going, something comes up and takes it away. I don’t know how much I need to push through and keep my routine going for the sake of the routine and how much I need to pull back and get healthy before I start up again.

(insert long string of very bad words here)

When Neil Gaiman says a book is, “Deep, dark, remarkable stuff”, I listen.

That’s how I came to find The Secret History of Moscow by Ekaterina Sedia.

Check out the Book List for the whole scoop.

I love playing the victim.

But it’s not my fault… If you only knew what really happened… If you understood the whole situation…

I can rationalize or excuse anything.

When I stepped on the scale this week and it said 213.3, I immediately went in to victim mode.

Justin was gone last week. (So I didn’t have my normal accountability.) I didn’t get to the gym every day. (My metabolism was slower.) I needed all that sugar to make me feel better. (As though it has that power.) My period is coming.* (Which may explain some, but not all. And is still no excuse for the eating of that much sugar.)

But playing the victim is one of the indulgences that I choose to deny myself.

The bottom line in fitness and weight loss is that we reap what we sow.

This is both incredibly encouraging, because I have the power to make positive change, and horribly depressing, because the failure rests on my shoulders..

I’m back on the wagon this week, we’ll see what comes of it.

*This is where the obsessive record keeping comes in handy. Over the course of a few months, I will be able to see that pattern that my weight takes in response to hormonal changes and I will know how much weight I can expect to gain, and lose, during my cycle. Armed with that knowledge, I will not be the victim of my out-of-control hormones, I will be able to anticipate what is coming and prepare for it.

Does anyone else notice the gaping hole in my rock wall?

Winter makes the saddest gardens.

My bluebells are even more zealous than I am.

Coming Soon: Roses

The next 8-10 weeks are going to suck!

I had my body fat percentage tested today.

Using the low-tech caliper method, I learned a number.

It is a crucial number, one that I must know in order to see real progress.

That number is 30.9.

I need the data to see progress. I need the data to see progress. I need the data to see progress.

Oh Lord, it hurts.

It’s been a rough week. Justin was in Virginia. I eat when I am bored and lonely. I didn’t get the gym on my regular schedule.

Excuses. Excuses.

Bullshit.

Every downward line needs to start somewhere.

One of these days he will actually propel Scrambler in a forward direction, until then, he will do all those cool jumps in his dreams.

I read and underlined this quote a few weeks ago, and then I looked up from my book and noticed that it was being proven in the lives of almost everyone I love.

“Being heard is so close to being loved that for the average person they are almost indistinguishable.” - David Augsburger

I saw Michael Beschloss, author of Presidential Courage, in an interview on The Daily Show last fall. His book seemed interesting and I wrote down the title to add to my ever-growing list of Books I Intend To Read. Then I forgot about it. Luckily, the staff picks shelf at the library did not.

Click over to the Book List and get the full scoop.

For accountability sake, I am going to post my numbers every week. Some weeks, like this one, there is nothing thoughtful or interesting to say about them, they did exactly what I expected them to do.

Weight this week: 208.8

Down 0.6. Down is good.

Andrew (opening the Happy Meal toy): Look at this neat robot!

Jenny: I don’t get it. What does the robot do?

Justin: You just play with it. Kind of like a doll, except the robot is cool.

After sleeping most of the day yesterday, and, mercifully, through the last three quarters of the Seahawks game, and then crashing for another 9.5 hours last night, I woke up this morning feeling really good - and hungry.

Today was a beautiful Seattle day. Clear and cool, but not bitterly cold. I thought about going running. I told myself that I could stop if I needed to and that any activity was a good start after being so sick on Friday. I told myself that it is good to sweat the sickness out. I told myself that I would feel better at the end of the run than I did at the beginning. None of these statements were lies, I just decided to only believe the last two.

So I went out and I ran. I ran 6.57 miles in 76.33 minutes. And then, as if that wasn’t enough to be happy about in one day, I came home and found Justin ironing his work shirts.

Life will throw you some curveballs, for sure, but, sometimes, you get a fastball down the middle.

I was looking forward to another long run this morning.

Then, as we were getting ready to go to dinner last night, I started feeling a bit unwell. By the time we were seated with our dinner in front of us, I was hard-pressed to finish my water. As we laid in bed watching Vh1’s 100 Best Songs of the 90s, I was getting up every few minutes to puke.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

I guess it is time to employ Plan B - taking a day off.

Playoff football, here I come!

Maybe I should have purchased the new Waterdeep album before I finalized the song list for Wandering Away, because then I could have put THE PERFECT SONG on it.

Good, Good End
You can leave right now
You can ring a bell
You can tell ‘em you think I ain’t doin’ too well
But when I stood like you
I eventually fell
Go on and leave right now
Go on and ring your bell

I’m amazed by life
And it’s amazed by me
We’re a strange old pair - me and eternity
It don’t make good sense
It ain’t easy to see
But I’m amazed by life
And it’s amazed by me

It’s a long hard road
With a good, good end
And if I keep on walking past the crooked bend
I will meet my Maker
I will meet my Friend
Down a long hard road
With a good, good end

So you can leave right now
You can ring your bell
You can tell ‘em you think I ain’t doin’ too well
When I stood like you I eventually fell
Go and and leave right now
Go on and ring your bell

‘Cause I’m amazed by life
And it’s amazed by me
And it’s a long hard road
With a good, good end

I mentioned that 2007 was a year of amazing changes for me, I listed changes in habits and goals that have revolutionized my world, but, as amazing as those changes are, they are not the biggest changes. The biggest changes don’t happen in one year, nor do they happen because you wake up one morning and decide that things are going to be different, rather, they happen when the circumstances of life force them to happen. They happen in the midst of bitterness and resentment. They happen in tears and anger. They happen in the shining moments of joy, when you see past the shadows. They happen in failure, hurt and reconciliation. They happen in grief and loss. Always, they happen when you least expect them.

In January, 2002, I was hiding under my bed, afraid to leave the house, medicating myself with Ativan, Prozac and chocolate. I was seeing my therapist once a week, trying to figure out how to keep walking down a road filled with anxiety, depression, obsession and fear. I was unable to articulate my needs in any situation because I believed that my needs were fundamentally flawed. I believed that any need I felt was illegitimate and only there to be ignored, thus making me stronger. I had been hiding my needs for months and months, until I could hide them no longer. I contemplated getting in the car, leaving my life and starting over somewhere else. I contemplated suicide. Both of these options seemed better than the potential conflict inherent in sitting down, looking into someone’s eyes and saying, “This isn’t working for me. I need to make a change.”

Not everything has changed since 2002, I still push feelings of bitterness and anger down, I am still afraid to express my needs. I still hold things in too long, and they still explode out of me leaving a mess to be cleaned up by those who are slightly more capable of rational thought. Perfectionism would have me believe that this means I have not changed. That is a lie. Two months ago, the explosion happened again. It blindsided Justin and we are, again, in the process of cleaning up the mess. The details are not pertinent to this essay, it will suffice to say that we are making some changes. We are changing the priorities in our family, pulling back from some commitments and committing to live more of our life in the city where we live. All because I was able to articulate, albeit with much mess, that the status quo was not working for me and I needed to make a change.

As we continue the clean up, we talk honestly about how absolutely frustrated we are with each other, about how there are things we really wish we could change, about how bloody tired we are of causing and cleaning up messes. We talk about the sins that seem to beset us and wonder if God really knows what He is doing. We look back and marvel at the comparatively small mess of the last few months, wondering how big it would have been if January 2002 had never occurred. We recognize the change that happens when we aren’t looking for it and we are profoundly thankful that we believe the long, hard road has a good, good end.

In retrospect, I’m glad that I didn’t put that song on last year’s cd. It seems better suited for 2008.

I just finished The Alchemyst by Michael Scott. Head on over to the Book List and check it out!