Still Rolling along

Cycling to nowhere for an hour yesterday has left me with decidedly creaky knees, so I decided that today would be a good day to give them a bit of a rest by doing a power walk around the village instead. Sometimes I wonder where I left my brain cell.

Anyway, not much time to ponder my own stupidity. Today we have two "firsts". Kid the Eldest announced some time back that he'd like to join Scouts. This is more of a big deal than it might at first appear because he's an anti-social little character (takes after his mother in that respect) and has actively resisted all previous attempts to get him to "join in" until now. We'll see how it goes. I'm quite excited for him, but a little nervous too. Will he do as he's told? Will he get jeered at for joining so late in the day? Will he love it? I guess we'll find out tonight.

The second "first" is that Kid-in-the-Middle is joining a band! All that huffing and puffing on the Horn seems to have paid off and she was told yesterday that she was ready to join a band in the town next to us. I'm delighted for her, because at one point she was all ready to quit and it took some persuading to make her keep at it. Now she's the best in her group. Atta girl!!

The only trouble with all this, is that it means I'm turning into one of those mothers I said I'd never be....kids doing activities every damn day of the week. I'm starting to feel exhausted thinking about it.

Monday = hockey club
Tuesday = social skills club
Wednesday = Rainbows, school band practice (recorder)
Thursday = Brownies, homework club, Scripture Union, horn lesson
Friday = Scouts, band practice (horn)
Saturday = Swimming
Sunday = Sunday School

My calendar has different colours for different people. Purple for me. Green for the Man I Married. Blue for Kids. It's a wash of blue, with a smattering of green and just the odd speck of purple drowning amongst everyone else's activities. My next car had better be a taxi.

Back in that saddle again

I have never joined a slimming club; I'm too damn mean to pay someone else to help me eat less. It has always seemed like a mad idea. But I can see why they work - there's the support of other slimmers, a kind of pressure to succeed because you don't wish to admit failure. But I still don't think it's for me.

However, my good friend Harridan has challenged me, and I like a challenge I do. (Say that with a Welsh accent if you will.) 40 days. No alcohol. Some form of exercise. Stick to diet. It's only 40 days. You can do anything for 40 days. Jesus did.

I'm not Jesus though. I suspect one of the things that comes with being the Son of God is a tad more willpower than was dished out to me. But a person can try, no?

Days 1, 2 and 3 were a bit of a washout. There was (and this is an oxymoron if ever I heard one) some leftover wine. (I know. That's like saying "too much chocolate", or "spare cash", or "Military Intelligence".) Anyway, it has always seemed wrong to have "leftover" wine and so I spent three days drinking up the dregs before they went off. (To continue with the semi-religious tone of this post, I should point out that diet-destruction-wise, the devil is in the details. Details of just how much wine was leftover. Which I'm not telling. Afterall, I'm sure some other religion or doctrine somewhere once decreed "speak no evil". And I'd hate to go against such a sound concept.)

I did manage a couple of "dry" days. And then I met up with temptation and failed to be resolute. A couple of glasses later,and what little will-power I had evaporated in a haze of mood-enhancing cava. Twas rather fun though.

Since then (and that was Saturday) I've been doing a much better job. I even survived a somewhat stressful visit from Mother without recourse to grape juice. And that's quite an acheivement. The diet has been stuck to and exercise in various forms has been undertaken. I actually feel smaller. Not much, but enough to spur me to keep going.

One thing I have noticed, is that while some people eat to stave off boredom, I tend to reach for a glass of wine. Nothing on telly? Never mind, have a glass of wine and find a re-run of something that was possibly amusing the first time round. So I've taken up knitting instead. Perhaps I just needed something to do with my hands? I gave up smoking about 12 years ago, so I wonder if the wine glass became the substitute ciggie? I find knitting quite soothing, so perhaps my needles will become my substitute glass? Thus far this week I have produced one preemie hat, one newborn hat, a pair of bootees and a fake boob. Yes, a fake boob. For a friend. No, not a weird perverted kind of a friend, and not one of those "I've got a friend who has a problem and she asked me to ask around because she's too embarrassed to do it herself because really it's me" kind of friends either. A real friend who needed a fake boob. How cool is that?

Anyway, that's enough from me for one day. I have an exercise bike upstairs and last night's episode of The Apprentice to watch before someone spoils it and tells me who was ousted. And several summer dresses I'd actually like to wear again one day!