Sew's Spot

"Sit up, join up, stir it up, get online, get in touch, find out who's raising hell and join them." Molly Ivins

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Another day, another number.

Ok, so this makes no sense.

Yesterday night, I took the stupid test, and the number was 125. The ONLY thing that I had to eat was the tilapia fillets. 100% protein, no carbs. Just water to drink. So why the flying fardleschnocker was the number 135 this morning? I'm NOT HAPPY® about this!

I need to buy a kitchen timer for at work. Perhaps today at lunch when I go get another "mega-salad". I want to walk for 15 minutes 3x per week. This is not a lot, and I'm fair certain I could manage it. Even if it's more like hobbling for the first while until I get stronger. So why the kitchen timer? Simple! I set the timer for 7.5 minutes. Walk as far away as I can during that time, then walk back when the timer goes off. Voila! 15 minute walk. If I can convince myself to do this at lunchtime at work, it keeps my evenings free for cleaning, gaming and couch-potatoing.

Headaches, and insomnia, though. I think the headaches may be related to the lower blood-sugar. They FEEL like the ones I get when I forget to eat (or get caught in the middle of something and CAN"T eat.)

Called Dad last nite and told him about both the Diabetes and the tilapia. Spent a good hour trading recipies and test numbers. *grin* I think the trip will be in October. He's already making plans for what all we will do and eat when I get there. Amazingly, the man finds it in him to tell me he loves me now. Still chokes me up every time that he says it. I work to remember to tell him that I love him right before I hang up every time. If for some reason it's the last words he ever hears from me - so help me, they will be that I love him.

I talked to him a tiny bit about how angry I was at St. Paul the Lutheran Minister for telling me to stop stroking Mom's arm near the end. Dad wasn't happy that Paul had said that to me (he didn't hear it at the time). I wish so much that I hadn't listened to that pompous little git. It's hard to reconcile all the mistakes I made with my memories and feelings about Mom. The more that I think about all this, the angrier and more hateful I feel toward that self-righteous prick.

I don't have a brother. There is just some interfering busybody self-righteous religious prick with no brains who insists on kibbitzing between me and my FAMILY.

I wish he would die in a fire.

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