The peonies have come and gone here in my Zone 6 garden, but there’s plenty more to enjoy.
While Dr. Huey (née Tamora) is nearing the end of its annual bloom flush (and is no longer particularly photogenic), my other roses are looking fantastic.
First, there’s this unnamed white rose that is a major trooper, blooming and reblooming reliably from June through October:
Oh, no. Nonononono. @Bourdain committed suicide. I’m floored.
I’ve had worse days by far.
Still, after staying up until 11:30pm last night restoring my new phone (hooray for mobile insurance when your battery starts swelling up like Violet Beauregard), then getting the 2:30am “my foot hurts” wake-up call from my six-year-old, I was mighty lethargic today. Add to that the fact that I had intentionally NOT upgraded my phone to iOS 11 because I knew it would break some apps I loved… well, guess what OS my replacement came loaded with?
Yeah. Plus, my phone appears to no longer sync with the Kia UVO system. I’m still holding out hope that a reboot of my phone might actually correct the issue like the UVO system seems to think it will. If not, I guess I’ll either use Bluetooth or drive the other car. Or, you know, just listen to a CD, but that’s so 2002.
Anyway, I decided I deserved a little time for myself this evening. I sat quietly in the sunroom for 15 minutes before making dinner (because I had the time), then spent a half hour out in the garden after my son was (theoretically) asleep. I had meant to just read magazines in the sunroom and soak my feet, but dirt therapy worked just as well, and I got stuff accomplished to boot.
That fresh air does wonders.
My lowest weight ever was 166 pounds, on April 16, 2016.
I hovered around 170 for the rest of that spring and summer. Come November, I started a slow and steady climb up the scale that wouldn’t quit until I reached my “Oh Shit” weight of 180 the following June.
Ever since then, I’ve been wavering around that Oh Shit weight, give or take a few pounds. I’ll have good weeks and not-so-good weeks, but the scale pretty much hovers in the same spot, on average. My Oh Shit weight has become more of a status quo, a fact of life. I live in my Oh Shit weight, so I may as well be comfortable with it.
This year has seen me regain some momentum in the right direction.
