the floral army marches on

I have irises! Even the ones that sprouted confusedly in the middle of January, that I thought were frost-burned for sure.

OTOH, I am remembering why Grandma rarely encouraged us to pick peonies for bringing into the house: Yes, they're lovely. Yes, they smell nice. They are also full of ants.

Some Are More Summer-Hours Than Others

It's college, and from what I can tell university, policy that for the middle chunk of the summer--end of June through early August (but not the week of Independence Day; don't ask), roughly--the place is Closed on Fridays. You can either work 8-5:30 and take a 45 minute lunch, or you can chalk the days up to your vacation balance; but you Do Not Show Up For Work On These Fridays.[1]

This year, the season starts on June 23. Unless you are the school gym, in which case summer is now, and anyone who wants to work out for the first three Fridays of the month is just screwed.

I am deeply vexed. I can't even go for a long walk for lunch, as my knee starts objecting[2], and the last thing I want to do is make it any worse; so weights, leavened with a judicious amount of elliptical, are my only option to burn off energy without committing mayhem.

[1] I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, Fridays off, Holy Shit!. On the other, my transit suddenly becomes a Goddamn circus; I may end up forced to the 6:30am train, fuck you very much. We shall have to see how it shakes down.

[2] Yes, I'm getting it looked at. I can haz referrals, and I have a sports-medicine specialist appointment next week.

In Which Food Adjustments Are Required

So, if no exercise, then must be strict food control. Thus I have started logging food with FitDay again.

Part of what tends to make me fall off the wagon is the nuisance of keeping track of everything. I can, and have, done it before; but it seems to be much harder to force myself back to it, as if by having succeeded once I have proved it and don't need to prove it again. Except that I'm not doing this as a symbol of how iron-willed I am, I'm doing it to be less of a wobbling pudgebucket. Stupid backbrain. ANYWAYS; since I am a creature of habit, and tend to eat the same damn thing every day, I created a "new custom food" which is the part of my daily consumption that doesn't change.

Thus:
* breakfast *
1 (large) egg
1 slice of TJ's sprouted wheat bread
a schmear of low-fat not-butter
2 splashes of half-and-half in coffee

* elevenses *
1 reduced-fat cheesestick
15 almonds

* lunch *
3 cups mixed greens
1/5 package of extra-firm tofu
2/3 of a bell pepper
1 T. salad dressing

All of this adds up to 628 calories: 37g fat, 39g carbs, 38g protein. This is too much fat, and not enough protein. Ideally I'd replace the tofu with a leaner protein, but that becomes a logistical issue (I don't always roast a meat over the weekend, generating leftovers for salad). The easiest solution is canned tuna; but eating a half can every day leads to the whole mercury question.

What to do, what to do.

In Which Moodiness Is Occasionally Useful

In the midst of packing clothes not much used, I came across the closet where my prom dress and my wedding dress were hanging side by side. Now, the prom dress was the subject of a bet between Steve and me, back when I first determined to Do Something about my weight, lo these many years ago; I wagered[1] I would be able to fit into it again, which goal I never yet achieved. Of course I tried it on, and of course it is still too small, by a good margin; no brainer.

But then, moved by the usual sentiments this sort of situation generates, I tried on my wedding dress (silk satin and freshwater pearls, hand-made by nedlnthred, ably assisted by Kasia; I made the buttons and did the pearl-sewing-on). It is too big, which I knew--but it's too big in the same amount that I'm too big for my prom dress. So in theory, barring what I learned about women's bone structures continuing to grow, it's not that unreasonable a goal.

[1] I can't remember what I wagered. This is lame and vaguely disturbing.