Weighing Things

Yipes! I check my weight at least every other day because it's convenient. The scale is out in my study here where there are usually no witnesses! Today I noted that I'd crept too far past 160; I was 164 point something and that's too damn much. I have lately been able to keep it within 2 lbs. either way of 160 and I'd like to keep it that way. I'm still a little fat or chubby after I regained about 15 or 20 lbs., but my vanity has decided THIS FAR AND NO FURTHER! I went crazy and ate 3 bowls of generic Rice Crispies late last night (with Equal, no sugar). Mmm, so good! But I guess that was a heap of wet rice.

I gave myself the excuse of not having eaten any breakfast that morning, but I usually don't eat breakfast anyway. And usually don't eat 3 bowls! My Evil (or at least Indifferent) self was at work on me and now I have to starve. The Good Me takes the rap, pays the price, balloons up. Foosh, you can't fit your pants! Damn. Shit. Piss! I can't let that happen.

I'd still anemic, I can't expect to exercise very much. I've been lifting those weights (using the giant flexible bands with handles for resistance), but I'm not sure if I've done it enough. I guess not. I'd been hoping I'd get so energized by that stuff that I'd get a little stronger in general and maybe walk some. Maybe go to the park, watch birds, and get mugged. Bad things have happened the last year to my favorite bird-watching park--they've had beatings and car thefts. But life is like that, isn't it?

One of the other parks where I've birded has had news reports of fairies and fags hanging around, but I'm not a juvenile, pretty boy, Twinkie, or pissed-off redneck terrified of being touched, so maybe I'd be safe. Of course, my anemia means I can't be a mean Texan and claim, "Well, I'll just beat the hell out of them!" I guess I could beat them with my cane, but what if I fell down while doing it? Beat their ankles?

Let's see--there's a drainage ditch that runs through the middle of it; maybe I'll just stick close to it so that I can fall down and roll into it if attacked! Ugh. It'd be a long way to roll and hard to ever get out again, but maybe that would prevent the bad guys from following me down the concrete sides! You think?

I wonder if I ever told my sister about that park getting dangerous before she died last March. I'd meant to. After all, it was her SUV that i was in when I went to that Little park because I went there after dropping her off at her dialysis clinic. It was on the beaten track, so it didn't use up any extra gas to go there. But she was particular about her car--wouldn't let anyone but her husband, son, and me drive it and still could find reasons to criticise our driving. She would have had a Shit Fit if it'd been stolen! I wonder how many other things I'll think of and have to wonder if I told her?

It's sad to have to think this way. I know others have to think and dread and plan for much worse, of course. Young men and women at war, some with children at home. Children in poverty with one parent or none who already have friends and kin who've been killed just for being there. Life's not always a joy, is it, PeeWee Herman?

But the birds are still there and do not care or reckon with it. They do not worry. For good or bad, they just go on. In short, they don't give a shit. Life isn't frightening, except in the absolute moment--then it's over. It's a natural thing, isn't it? Would that we could do the same as the bluebird, the wren, the woodpecker, and the hummingbird!

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