What to blog...

Paranoid that I might be a snoozer of a blogger, I spent some time this morning (one day after creating my blog) with a cup of cooling coffee (yuckers) to cruise through other blogs. I've decided I'm much more entertaining and feel ever so much better! There are some very odd blogs out there. Not all of them. There was one I found intriguing in that the author leads an out of the ordinary life, involved in both domestic and foreign politics while living abroad. Alas, I can only be amused by photos of people I don't know and places I can't identify (language barriers, I fear) for so long before I zip along to the next blog. I read one about a very young teen mother and new wife and am glad it isn't me. There are a lot of "artists" online. I found another site - I believe it was in Italian - with a lot of photos of garbage lining the streets and a Socialist Party gathering.

I won't be posting photos of garbage, political gatherings or my cats. I have cats, but no one outside of our immediate family cares, so I'll spare blog surfers the pics.

Today's topic of thought is the wicked, evil bathroom scale. Not all of them are wicked, but mine is at the top of the list. I quit my office job a couple of months ago to pursue art. I'm not fabulous, but I do ok. Since leaving work, I'm eating better and working my butt off renovating rooms of the house so that I have a real studio again. I think I sweat off about two pounds a day. I have that and then some to spare. So I toss on a shirt that has been a little snug since I bought it (it's amazing what really tight underwear can do to make it fit just a little better) and was thrilled to find it a little flowy, not so snug around the hips. I race to the scale, sure I'm going to see that I've lost at least five pounds since I started having Lean Cuisine's for lunch every day instead of burgers, giant salads or chicken strips, and the freakin' piece of crap says I weigh two pounds more. Bull crap! So now I'm pissed. And I'm hungry, and my coffee is cold, and I feel like I can't go get my fewer-than-five-times-a-year Starbucks spiced pumpkin latte that is finally back in season. Argh! I think my scale will be joining the garbage stack.