Tilting at Windmills

It's called "Food Journal."  I've been writing down everything I eat along w/ it's calories and fat content, the date, and the time.  I've been actually having fun with it.  Maybe too much fun.  I've noticed a considerable drop-off in my caloric intake.  If anyone cares to see how I've been doing, I've got it saved in a Google Docs spreadsheet and I can share it with you.

I hear there's an expansion for this game coming out next year called, "So You Want an Eating Disorder?".  Boy, I can't wait to get my hands on that one.

By the way, I wouldn't worry too much about my over-zealousness. I tend to get bored with things or distracted by newer, cooler things pretty often.

Lookie at what they found in England!  The biggest find of an Anglo-Saxon hoard EVER!  Bigger than Sutton Hoo!

news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/staffordshire/8272058.stm

I wonder how long before we start seeing the cool stuff from that.  Evidently, there were lots and lots of weapon fittings.  Hopefully, there was a cool helmet or two (or other armor).

Courtesy of raginscotsman 's FB page, but he didn't post it on LJ.  I know not why.

You gotta see this.  I know there's a few guys on here I know.  Perhaps there are a few that you know, too (esp. around the 2 minute mark).  This is one of the better SCA videos I've seen.  Check it out.

www.youtube.com/watch

Some general stuff -

Played petanque out at Chalkman John's this weekend.  Had a good time and ate too many cupcakes/drank too much beer.  Which leads me to . . .

The Mrs. and I are starting to keep track of our daily calorie and fat intake.  I'm not sure how long we'll keep it up, but at the moment I have no idea how much food I eat.  This will be an interesting exercise for that reason alone.  What I didn't eat in "good" calories yesterday, I made up for in Dutch apple crumb pie.  Go me.

Some friends of mine just had a baby.  The newborn's name is Theodore - named after daddy's favorite president.  I approve; he's my favorite, too.  I'm surprised that Mom opted for having a baby the old-fashioned way since she's a geneticist. 

I'm working day shift (kinda) this week while I cover for someone who's on vacation.  Hope my bosses say, "hey, that went pretty well.  Why don't we have him come in at 5 AM every day?"

And to take it back to Point 1, John has all the new Pennsic photos up, so stop pestering him.

If one is considering vigorous exercise in the evening, one should probably not eat half of a pizza and a bunch of cheese bread dipped in butter-garlic sauce for dinner.  Unless one hates oneself, of course.

Just throwing that out there.

I don't feel much like talking about Pennsic at the moment except to say I want to be more in the physical condition I was in rather than the condition I was in this time.  Make sense?  I've got a bunch of good beer left over; that's not going to help me with my waist line, but it'll be gone soon. 

I'm considering doing Weight Watchers for a couple of weeks with Gen.  I don't feel like I'm *that* overweight, but I'll take advice on eating healthier and motivation where I can find it.  Lugging fifteen less pounds around would probably help my energy level anyway.

Some nice person left a box with twelve full bags of different varieties of Herr's chips in the IT office.  That's not conducive to a healthier diet.  Nor is the spray can of Readi Whip in the fridge.  Sabotage, I tell ya.

The dog came back from Camp Grandma with fleas.  I guess Biospot isn't all that.  Hopefully, It's good enough to kill what's already on her and keep her from getting reinfested.  I put a dose on her last night.  Going to try and find some flea-killer pills today.  We're going to avoid the full-court bug bomb press unless it's necessary.  Moral: Stick with the more expensive Frontline.

There's a Pittsburgh show of the Decemberists this Friday, but I don't imagine I'll have the funds for that this close to Pennsic.  Too bad.  I love their stuff.  I wish more bands incorporated storytelling in their songs.

I might start a new shift at work today.  We'll see if that happens.  

Rediscovered the miracle that is Scribd.  Check it out.

More later.

I'll be driving up to Pennsic tomorrow morning for a couple days.  I sure hope I didn't forget anything; driving back home from work and then back North again would add at least 45 minutes to my travel time.  We'll see if I actually feel up for driving 1.5 - 2 hours after I get off shift in the morning.  I've got a 5-Hour Energy grenade on my desk if all else fails.  Fire in the hole!

I ran in the rain this morning because weather.com swore up and down that it would be thundering this PM.  Damnable liars.  It actually stopped raining in the late afternoon.  I managed to get 1.5 miles today before I had to stop running.  OK, I stopped a couple times, but never for more than a second or two.  I ran three miles total  and only had to walk some of the laps in the third mile.  Let's hope vacation doesn't totally hose my progress, such as it is.

I need to update my resume because I haven't done it in a few years and my sis-in-law says I have to.  I don't even want to look at the thing.  I'm sure it'll depress me.  I really just need to latch onto a specialty field and a couple sub-specialties and then cling to them like a tick until I'm a damned expert.  As it is, I'm a jack-of-all-trades-and-master-of-none.

It's a good thing I'm leaving town for a few days.  It seems that one of the neighborhood stray cats has adopted us.  G made the mistake of feeding it and I made the mistake of showing it some affection, so now it wants to belong to us.  Oy.  It doesn't help that I feel concerned for it because I saw what appeared to be a bite wound from another cat on it's chest this evening. 

I don't need another pet.
I don't need another pet.
I don't need another vet bill generator.
I don't I don't I don't I just don't.

I didn't burn down the kitchen and I actually cooked myself dinner (go me). 

Well, I'm certainly catching up on my sleep.  I'm not getting much of anything else done.  I think I need a vacation.  

So far, so good.  I haven't burned down the kitchen yet, but then I only cooked in the microwave.  Did some laundry, made my lunch for tonight's shift, fed myself a nutritious dinner of Spaghetti-O's and Wal Mart General Tso's. 

I went for a run earlier.  I'm not really progressing yet, but it'll come, I'm sure.  I can only run a mile before I have to walk a bit.  I covered about three miles walking and running.  Hopefully, I can get up to at least 2 miles without walking before September starts or that'd sting my pride.

I'm at a loss for what to do with the rest of my day (three hours).  Hopefully, Agatha Christie will be on PBS.  Maybe I can catch something on Netflix failing that.  In the meantime, I guess I'll have another bowl of Franco American and watch the end of the Tour de France.

What's the world coming to when some joker drops off a claymore mine in the donations box of a Goodwill?

I mean, honestly, at least leave the detonator.  Otherwise, whoever picks up the claymore from the bargain bin will just have to go get some stereo cable and a car battery to fire that thing off.  Who wants to lug around a car battery?

It's called common courtesy, people.

The Human Cramp.  Well, only my lower body qualifies at the moment, but I'm working on it.

So, I made the decision late last week that since getting ready for this Pennsic physically was such a wash, I might as well stop wasting time and start getting ready for Pennsic 2010.  I went running on Friday afternoon and my quads were extremely tight the next day. No wonder older folks prefer one-floor house plans.  Stairs are a mother.  I went running again this evening to try and work out the last of the stiffness, but in reality I just stayed tight in my quads and got a nice pulled muscle in my right calf.  I stretch, I swear.

I was less than a half mile into my "run" (at my current speed, the word deserves quotes) when my right calf got the stabbing pains that threatened to end my run right then.  My pride wouldn't let me call it quits (yay, ego).  I stopped long enough to stretch out that calf muscle some and started running again.  I got three miles and *most* of it I actually did in my shambling job rather than walking.  Tomorrow at fighter practice I anticipate that I'll look like I need a walker to get on the field.  

I've got a can of Full Throttle and a tub of Icy Hot to get me through the morning.

Full Throttle is really kind of vile without the vodka.  Here's something to ponder: My can of energy poison is 16 fluid ounces.  There is *fifty seven* grams of sugar in this damnable thing.  That means 1/8 of the can is sugar.  It's horrifying, and yet I'm going to drink the whole thing.

Oh, and I've got my third dental appointment in three Mondays tomorrow.  Joy.  You guys that never had a cavity in your life can go hang.  And yes, as soon as I finish this can of high fructose toxic waste, I'm going to brush my teeth before I end up looking like my posting icon.

Hulu has got this great little special that I saw on The Travel Channel or the Food Network or something.

John Cleese explains why you shouldn't be intimidated by wine and how to find wine you (and hopefully your friends) will enjoy.

www.hulu.com/watch/79439/wine-for-the-confused

I'm inspired to buy and drink some tomorrow.  It'll be just priced a little up from Boone's Farm and MD 20/20, but things are tight all over.  Hopefully, I can find an inexpensive Reisling; I love the dry white stuff, I do.

I've got to say, all this hoo haa in Persia lately has got me feeling very hopeful.  Granted, no one's calling for the end of the revolution, but this is the first indication that I've seen that it's in real trouble.  I'd dearly like to see the unfortunate result of our overthrow of the democratically elected president and the installation of the Shah to be finally wiped away. 

We did the deed, but I still blame the Brits for that, by the way.

All the images I've seen out of Iran are out of Tehran, I think.  I can only hope that protests like the ones in the capital are being seen elsewhere as well.  It might just be that it's easier to keep control on towns with a smaller population center.

Anyway, I'm pulling for all you Iranians that feel you were hoodwinked.

On my way into work, I was grooving to the classic rock radio station.  The DJ was playing everything right for a drizzly, foggy drive into work.  First, it was "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac and later Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London."  Honestly, some songs are the absolute best for night driving.  I don't remember what song had just started as I zipped along at 70 mph, crested a slight hill, and saw the deer sipping water from the freshly-paved asphalt.  I know better, but I didn't really have time to think and I slammed on the brakes.

Susan, my little 1998 Chevy S10, started careening all over the place.  Anti-lock brakes or no, my little pickup isn't meant to go from 70 mph to 0 in the best of circumstances, but the rain made things nastier.  I'm glad there were no other cars around or my fishtailing might have been even more dangerous.  The deer started running out of the path of the truck, but then turned and darted right back in front of me!  Damn it.

To sum up, I'm short one headlight and a turn signal which the insurance deductible will be too high to make it worthwhile, plus there's a deer dead or dying out there.  I hope it died instantly. 

Damn it.

My poor pooch is going in for a minor surgery this morning to have a tumor removed.  Unfortunately, the vet thinks that it's quite possibly cancerous.  Evidently, black labs (and black lab mixes) are more prone to cancer.  I had no idea. 

To add to her suffering, Gracie slipped on the linoleum and hurt her left-rear hip the last time she was at the vet on Tuesday.  The vet didn't think anything bad happened, but she's been gimpy since then.

My poor girl used to come downstairs and meet me at the door every time I came home from work.  Yesterday was the first time that she just stayed at the top of the stairs and wagged her tail.  I felt awful to do it, but I had to make her come downstairs anyway so she could go to the bathroom.

I heard her yelp once when she jumped down from the bed she was sleeping on.  I actually felt like I had to carry her upstairs after dinner last night and she is not a light dog.  It's a miracle I didn't throw my back out because I lifted her completely the wrong way.  I think she appreciated the gesture, though.

G is dropping her off at the vet this morning and picking her up after work, so I get to worry all day.  I hope they give her some good painkillers.

I really, really want to do Harlech, but I feel guilty just at the thought of leaving her home alone for 8-10 hours.

I've gotten started on push-ups again.  Hopefully, I can keep with it until War.  When I get to forty non-girlie push-ups, I'll buy a pull-up bar.  I road marched (read: very briskly walked) for 45 minutes yesterday with my 22lbs. pack.  I only took one good-sized hill; I need to do more of them. 

I'm torn between dropping cash on running shoes or on a better backpack.  I'd like to be able to run, but I just don't know that my whole one-leg-slightly-longer-than-the-other thing is going to allow it.  On the other hand, I know I can backpack with a good amount of weight just fine.  Go figure.  So, the backpack is a less money-risky venture, but if I could run I think I'd be happier and could get my cardio out of the way faster.  I think I'll buy the running shoes; I'll just get cheap ones.

I found someplace that looks very "Eye of the Tiger" called "The 5th Street Gym" (est. 1923 or somesuch).  I need to go check that joint out.

As of today, I'm ten pounds off what I consider my ideal "war weight."  I'm trying to eat better, but the average Portuguese Man-o-war has more willpower usually.  Take this very moment, for instance.  I'm considering popping out and buying pancakes from McD's rather than just getting some fruit and yogurt from Krogers.  I know what's better.  I also know which option I want more.

I've got fighter practices on Saturday and another on Memorial Day, so I've got a little bit of time to work on my spear-work before Harlech.

God willing, I'll have a good amount of new armor come War, too.  I'm going over to Gareth's to work on some new knees and greaves tomorrow.  Hopefully, new elbows and vambraces won't be too far behind.  I wouldn't mind replacing my gorget with one of his water-hardened numbers, either.  I still have no idea what I want to do about my body armor, but it's time for it to go.  It's hot, it's ugly, it's inflexible, and it doesn't protect me as well as something that's hot, ugly, and inflexible should.

There's a sparrow stuck in our house.  At first it was in the kitchen, then it managed to get into our basement, and now it's taken up residence in our living room.  It resolutely refuses to be helped outside.  That's okay, because I have a plan so cunning that you could pin a tail on it and call it a weasel.  More on that when the guest has finally left.  It needs to leave, too, otherwise I feel like I won't be able to get to sleep if after having a Benydryl with a beer chaser.

I've started taking 30-40 minute walks of varying difficulty with a 20lbs+ backpack.  I used to weigh in 26lbs more than I currently do.  After walking around with the pack, I have no desire to put that weight back on.

Seeing people actually able to sprint across the field on Saturday made me jealous.  I want to start jogging and I want new armor that might allow me to run.

I hear my quarry chirping away; the hunt is afoot.