Almost-normal-sized clothes again…

You know, self-portaiture isn’t quite as easy as it might seem, especially without a professional portraiture setup. In other words, finding an appropriate spot to set the digital-camera-on-a-timer in my house is a challenge. But I wanted to share my small joy with you, so… ph34r my new tank top. Rah.

To celebrate my return to this-is-how-fat- I-used-to-be- before-I-got-sloppy, I scrounged up a few pics of myself over the past 10 months or so and made a weight-loss montage. I didn’t seek out too many pictures, and I didn’t scan anything; it was just what I had already on the computer for whatever reason. But I think it gets the point across. And not only do you get to watch my double-chin melt away through the photos, you also get to watch my hair grow. 🙂

Aaaaaand I’m done.

Atkins Progress

Just happened to notice, hidden in amongst My Documents, the Weight.xls chart I created once upon a time when I was more obsessive over my weight-loss regimen than I am now. So, I opened it up and added the latest plot point of date vs. weight, and made a discovery.

Even though it seems like my weight loss is slowing, it isn’t. I’ve been losing at the same rate, a little over half a pound a week, ever since October or November. If I keep up at this pace, I’ll be at my ultimate goal (for now, anyway) by late Winter of 2005. While that might seem like a long time… I don’t mind. And, when you think about it, it took me a few years to put it on; it seems fitting that it should take at least a year and a half to take it off.

(Just stay away from the candy machine… Hershey’s with Almonds bad…)

Yummy Crock Pot BBQ Wings

The wings were successful. All three pounds were gone by 3pm. I even got to eat some.

I was a bad Diana and cheated horribly on my diet today. Ate a couple sugar-free muffins, a couple small not-sugar-free cupcakes, one not-very-good chocolate chip cookie, and a chocolate-dipped strawberry, all in addition to the “real” food I ate. I was half-high for part of the day, half-asleep for the rest of it, and half had a headache while I came down from my sugar high. That’ll teach me, I guess.

In other news, I’m kind of bored. I’m going to go play Civ III for an hour.

Mel!

My old buddy Mel came into town today! I got her e-mail last night, saying that she’d be in BG for an audition, and suggesting that we could do lunch. Absolutely! I ended up taking a half hour longer for lunch than I should have, but it was worth it. I really hope she gets in, and for more selfish reasons than I might like to admit. I miss having girlfriends to hang out with. And Melody in particular, especially when she’s Happy Mel and not Chronically Tired Mel.

In other news, my left shoulder has had a nagging piercing pang for the past two days. It’s not a muscular soreness; it feels like more of a nerve thing, or possibly a muscle tightness or twitching or a joint a little out of place or something. At any rate, it hurts just enough to annoy. (Maybe I should take some Tylenol… nahh.)

And on the house front (as opposed to homefront?), John gave me the final news on the closing today. The amount of money we need to bring to closing is… nada. Not a damn thing. Our driver’s licenses and our smiling faces. Hell, we’re most likely going to get money. Here, have a house and a check. Huh?? But I’m not complaining.

I’ve also been OD-ing on my genealogy of late. It’s amazing what you can piece together from just census records and other easier-to-obtain documents. For instance, check out this brief narrative on my great-great-great grandfather:

On 14 Jan 1869, Samuel’s father James consented to the marriage to Mary Lunette Shupert, due to the fact that his son was under 21. At this point, Mary Lou was already three months pregnant with James. Bill Cook’s genealogy indicates that this marriage took place in Ellerton, Jefferson Township, Montgomery County.

By the summer of 1870, Samuel and Mary had established a home in Jackson Township. Their son James was almost a year old, and Samuel was supporting his new family by working as a farm laborer.

In the 1880 U.S. Census, Samuel’s last name was spelled “SHARITZ” and his occupation was listed as ‘laborer.’ Samuel and Mary were both age 30. Their first five children had been born and were living at home — the oldest, James, was 11, and the youngest, Harvey, was one year old.

In the 1900 U.S. Census, Samuel’s last name was spelled “SHARRITS” and his occupation was listed as ‘farmer.’ He named his birthplace and the birthplace of his parents as Indiana. All the children were still living at home — except Samantha, who had died four years prior at the age of 13. The oldest child, James, was 30. The youngest, Mellie, was twelve.

Also in residence in 1900 was Oscar RIDENOUR, Samuel’s grandson and Ona’s son. Ona had died in 1898.

By 1920, all of the children had moved out. Samuel was still farming at age 69, and his wife Mary, also 69, was still living with him. She would continue to live with him for another five years, until she died of heart disease in the summer of 1925.

Samuel was 80 years old and living alone in Poasttown in the Spring of 1930. He owned his $4000 home, had no radio, and did not work.

In 1938, Samuel developed a nagging case of pneumonia that was destined to persist for years. Samuel died three years later, in 1941, of heart disease and pneumonia. His oldest surviving son, Charles, was the informant on the death certificate, and was apparently caring for Samuel in his later years. The death certificate gives the birthplace of Samuel and both of Samuel’s parents as Miamisburg. Samuel Oliver is buried in Mt. Pleasant Cemetery, Poasttown.

And that’s just the stuff I wrote down, not even all of the records of his kids being born and marrying off and dying and all that. Something about the narrative just strikes me as… poignant, I guess, even though it’s not really much to read if you aren’t related to Samuel.

This is harshing my bouncy mood, yo. But I’m still pretty happy. Ever since seeing Mel today, I’ve been unusually smiley. I don’t mind. I like it. Mel is such a character. *shaking head*

I hope her audition went well…

Murfle

I’m not entirely convinced that anybody gives a crap about what I do day-to-day. I jot down notes at work when I think of things to bring up on my blog later that evening, then sometimes I look at some of those notes and think, “Who gives a fuck?”

I think I’ll just attribute my cynicism to being tired and bored, and I’ll just move on.

Anyone into web comics has probably already discovered Something Positive. As for me, though, I’ve spent the past two evenings reading the S*P archives. About three years’ worth. I found myself wishing for a printed comic after a while — still do, actually, since I’m only caught up to July 2002, I think.

set choo-choo as your buddy icon! murr!My favorite character so far is Choo-Choo Bear, the 25-year-old kitty cat with “a bone disease that makes him extra huggable”—basically, he’s an elastic kitty. Many great gags ensue. So lovable, and so, so cute. So cute, in fact, that I made myself a new IM Buddy Icon out of him. Murfle!

Tomorrow’s the big day, when we head up to Sylvania to see if we can get a home loan. Last time we tried this with Sky Bank, Dan the Mortgage Man strung us along for a week before he told us that I hadn’t worked for Sky long enough. …Come to think of it, we tried to go to Sky for a car loan first, too, and got smacked down; but we got it the second time, when we did our financing through the Kia dealership. Maybe the second try will do it for us with a mortgage loan, too, this time with NOIC. We can only hope. As much as I’m not thrilled about moving again… *looks around at mess* I really have a hankerin’ for a house.

Worked out with my weights some more yesterday. Didn’t work my pecs… or didn’t mean to, anyway. Managed to make the rest of my upper arms, shoulders, and back mildly muscle-sore, while making my pecs oh-so-stiff. Oh, yeah, and there’s a muscle down the outside of my right arm, from around my elbow to the outside of my wrist, that makes typing quite the joy. I hope I didn’t mess with my whatever-I-have-wrong-with-my-wrists.

I’m bored. I need to pack up eBay stuff to send out tomorrow morning. And I have to take another crap.