I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’m going to end up back in the Seattle area eventually. No matter what I do. Like a moth to a flame.
onecho
I used to fear the wind; now, I am the breeze From The Inland Northwest, USA
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We have officially vacated the house and are now “in flux”.
Cold pico de gallo + fresh hot pepperoni pizza =
House almost packed. All the tough pieces of furniture are done. Sucks to be temporarily homeless, but we’ll pick out a good rental and I’ll make my own little room up.
If you suffer from anxiety, don't get married. Please. For the love of whatever you believe or don't believe in: don't do it. It's better to be alone and in control, than be hitched and fail at relinquishing control.
I’m just about at that “cry for help” stage. I can’t freaking do this.
Am I the only one who is irked by folks who wear baseball caps sporting non-baseball teams? Why do you wear a ballcap for the Packers or Lakers? I don't go around wearing a hockey helmet with some British Premier League team emblem on it. It doesn't make sense.
I am so tired of being anxious all the time. Believe it or not, THAT is the #1 thing that killed my marriage, not the ABDLism.
Got a lot of packing done and down to 13 pounds to hit my goal. A decent one-two.
Current reaction score: 420. Nice.
(DISCLAIMER: I am not a stoner and, honestly, I don't get pot culture. I have no issues if you do; it's just not for me. That said, I can still laugh at a humorous coincidences, such as this.)
House: sold!
Wind is my least favorite form of weather. There is such a small window in which it is a welcome arrival; outside of that, it is either too still and stale, or it is too brusque and damaging.
I dream of the day I have a crib again. Definitely a goal of mine.
Going padded all day for the first time in a long while. Perhaps the ‘kiddo within’ is finally returning.
My favorite sweets lack color: fudge brownies, whipped cream (yup, straight up), Dutch chocolate ice cream, plain rock candy. Exceptions: pie, Gushers, and Sour Patch Kids; fruit pie >>> cream, and I would step over my grandmother for a handful of Sour Patch Kids or Gushers.
(I understand the irony of posting this after celebrating weight loss. I haven't given up those items; I just have less and sweat more.)
All right: 32 pounds lost; 18 to go.
May is the worst month, full stop.
Happiness is: being an AB lucky enough to have an amazing 'momma' to whom you want - not feel obligated to, but truly want - to write a Mothers' Day card.
You know you’re an AB when (#37)... you strive to lose 50 pounds to fit in certain little clothes that you’ve outgrown.
A song that perfectly describes my life over the last couple years: The Brother Kite - "Giving Up Time" -
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