No, not wasted in that way. My days of afternoon Bloody Marys are long gone, alas. No, instead I’ve been dealing with a hellish migraine that has effectively sucked away my only day to rest this weekend. There is a little bit of a paradox at work here, though, because I did plan to work on the paper all day, but every time I moved more than a subtle shift in position I vomited, so I was forced to lay flat on my back and watch Buffy The Vampire Slayer (Season Two) all day long. Finally, around 2:30 my pain subsided enough to get SOME work done on the confounded paper, but not near enough for me to feel like I’m ahead of the game.
I got no housework done, and I’m currently typing out this Poor Me blog whilst smelling like a pole cat and feeling little waves of sickly panic at how much I didn’t get done today.
Behold the messiness that is me
Most of all, I’m disappointed about falling of the diet wagon. All week I did really well. I exercised three times, I did that active resting thing where you walk around more than normal, I counted calories, I counted steps, I did it right. Today I have eaten like crap, and I’m going to eat more here in a minute. I have to lose weight for health. Doctor says so. Meh.
Jeff, Emma, and Jason came to visit for a little while tonight. Two Sundays in a row with Emma Dear, who is the coolest kid on the planet.
Laugh riots of conversations took place, but it’s hard to remember them. Emma’s at the age where she comes up with her own things to say, but will parrot you as well. One of Jason’s favorite stories about her is from New Year’s Eve, where he was left alone with her for just a minute. Here is a rundown of the conversation:
Emma: I’m thirsty
Jason: Um….(looks around) Do you want some juice or something?
Jason: (thinks to self–I’m a grown-ass man. The kid wants some juice? I can get her some juice) OK! Let’s go get some juice!
Jason and Emma walk to the fridge. Jason opens the door. He looks around. The only juice he sees is a big bottle of V8. He looks at Emma.
Jason: Is this the juice?
Emma: Is this the juice?
Jason: (to self – Oh Shit)
Jason: Aha! I know where your Daddy is!
Emma and Jason walking together: Daddy! Daaaaaddddyyyy!
So tonight was all about us trying to get Emma to say stuff like “Peace Out” and “Adios” (which she does readily and with enthusiasm) and getting her to “dap”, which is where you make a fist and punch fists like you’re “bros”. She’s adept at that. Also, she was in a big time mood to climb all over her Daddy.
And fix his hair
We all bought tickets to the gun show, and Emma showed off her new ink:
Then she hopped around, sang us several songs, and generally brightened the house, the street, the town with the sheer brilliance of her existence.
I hate to think how poetic I’ll wax once I have my own kids…