Monday, January 01, 2018
Today I am grateful for a new year. That’s about it. The page turned, it’s a new year, pass the peanuts. Oh wait, you can only have 24 before you have over indulged. Start counting. Be sure to put the halves together to constitute a whole peanut. And be sure to get 12 hours of sleep a night or you’ll die. Young. Too late! Yea, the morning news programs are bound and determined to improve me and make THIS my “best year ever” by giving me weight loss, exercise, meditation, high-colonic tips.
I plan on continuing with Weight Watchers and going to the YMCA water aerobics and if I live through that maybe some other exercise programs. But I always do that. I also plan to get my head out of my ass and stop the sugar madness, but I always do that, too. There is so much talk these days about the opioid crisis. Sugar is crack! Do the study on that one.
I’m going to keep eating at least one yogurt a day, with berries or other fruit, cooking some chicken ahead so I can freeze it for a go-to meal, and drinking enough water to cause a tsunami if there is not a nearby bathroom. And I will discover the produce aisle of the grocery store so keep your high-colonic. If you make me eat edamame just tie a rope around my ankle and let me float among the buildings in the Macy’s Parade next year. No need for helium.
So shut up all of you “experts” because I’m already doing what I can do. I have no intention of pushing myself to 15 million “steps” a day. Somedays my biggest aerobic challenge is getting in the car to go to the Y. Really.
I don’t see myself spending way extra money and even more extra time shopping for and chopping up eye-of-newt mixed with fresh ginger and beet juice and poured over chopped pineapple stems to get rid of inflammation, or whatever that combination was you were talking about. No thanks. Also no GREEN DRINK for me! Don’t know what it is and I won’t drink anything that looks like a swamp turtle could live in it. Unless it’s green beer on St. Paddies day. One of my sons gave me a taste of coconut water and it sucked. I can’t imagine a green drink being any better.
Sleep? Eight hours a night at least? Good one. I’d LOVE eight hours of sleep a night. I go to bed at an hour where I could easily get eight hours. Tell it to my nocturnal clock which often wakes me up at three. . .for the day! I breathe deeply, try rhythmic yoga breathing, and meditate the thoughts out of my head, being careful not to lose all of them, because I want to remember how to drive a car. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. At all. No matter what I do, even if I get up, watch TV, read, walk around the dining room table or pay bills, I can’t get back to sleep. I don’t need you “guilting” me over it, so shut up.
As for Himself. He’ll pad along as he always has, with donuts and/or crumb cake for breakfast, a dry bread ham and/or cheese sandwich for lunch, and a liverwurst on white bread, with a cuppa tea (with 3 packets of pink stuff and milk) and a big whack of chocolate cake for dinner. Intersperse copious bowls of popcorn and/or Bugles throughout the day and he’s all set. Hey, he made it to 82 with this diet, plus he used to smoke like a chimney, but thank God those days are gone. Talk about crack! He does just enough exercise to feel like he’s making an effort, but no more and considers it a good exercise day when he goes to the basement to paint Dungeons and Dragon creatures. Steps are involved. Sometimes more than once, if he has to come up to pee. Put that in your statistics and shove it.
So go ahead and dispense your advice to improve me if you must, I have a remote control to change the channel anyway. Click! Thank you. But no thank you. I got this covered. . .just as soon as the peanut butter balls are gone!