Weighty Levity

Or something. I have a book on my desk entitled Chickens Chickens Chickens, therefore I beg to be excused from things like intelligent thought.

I am a nerd. I think that the best thing about losing weight (besides, you know, feeling better and being able to wear your own clothes without going shopping) is math. Also, when I am at the gym, I weigh in at the beginning and end of my workout (to see how much drinking water and sweating actually affect my weight short-term is interesting), and I write down my weight in hexadecimal.

Oh, and I'm in love with a math-involving "killer" sudoku.

Further radness: Discovering Chef! on DVD at the library.

Back to weight: I lost a pound since yesterday, and am convinced it was because I had two pieces of (yum) chicken pizza for lunch today. Virgil seems as skeptical of this as I am of the Da Vinci Code plot. (Reading Khouria Frederica's review as I blog, and want to know who so perfectly expressed my own reaction: "...the book is so ahistorical that she had to pretend it was a sci-fi work about alternative reality to get through.") However, Virgil did point out that after working out mostly for 5 weeks, I've lost 6 pounds.

In chapel today, Archbishop Demetrios, after he put the crosses on the alumni who graduated 50 and 25 years ago, called one priest forward and held up the priest's hand. Apb. Demetrios invited everyone to look at this hand, and ponder how many thousands of times it had touched the body of Christ, and how many thousands of times it anointed with oil, and how many thousands of times it had blessed people.

Google Calendar

The radness has arrived.

My husband and I have moved from the schmoopiness of instant messaging each other (not just in the same room) on the same computer to the schmoopiness of sharing our google calendars.

Aw. Or as he said: "In the same calendar - twue wuv."

My first event: confession. His first event: canon law final. His comment: "I am amused that you can invite guests to your confession."

Weight-loss Update

Thrilling title of this post, I know!!1!one!!

Anyhow. Since we got back from Florida, I've been more or less (mostly more) good about going to the gym every day for an hour. I've weighed myself on a neighbor's scale, and, according to that, didn't lose any weight. So we don't like that scale any more.

The gym finally got a scale! (Old and rusty, but it tells me I am a whole pound lighter than the digital one, so we likes it.)

I've finally figured out how to work my abs (and how! ow!) without wrenching my back: elevate legs and do a ... sustained crunch, I guess, for ten seconds. Just thinking about it makes me twinge, so it must be doing something.

I have started to classify myself as "not fat" but have no idea what to do with the lack of change in the scale reading. Must be muscle. Or aliens. Or alien muscles with super-powers!

Virgil has changed my workout so I don't go full speed ahead, but instead I try to maintain a "fat-burning" heart rate (graciously provided by whatever machine I'm on). This makes the workout more fun because I can either read or constantly play with the buttons so that the little flashy light blinks where I want it to.

I blame any and all rambliness on the dietary restrictions. Virgil knows all the details, but the only information I have assimilated is that this is a harsh diet because it does not let me eat all the Cheetos I want. And I want.

On the other hand, I'm feeling really good, physically. And last night I spent 2.5 hours at the gym. Yay!

The boringest post ever is now completed. Until next time.