Friday, July 5, 2013
Day 35: Turns Out, They Were THOSE Kinds of Pounds
I did not get up at 6 a.m. but I did wake naturally at 8, so I'm slowly getting back on the right time zone — and it's already 90 degrees, I'm not walking anywhere. Plus, I have a headache. A banner day lies ahead! I plan to sit in front of fans and lie low. (Though I do have a list of 20 projects, inspired by one of my vacation books, The Tao of Martha by Jen Lancaster — loved! In particular, the drawer where we keep travel-sized things for, well, traveling, as well as small zippered cases, is out of control; it's booby-trapped like a spring can full of snakes, and we have 99 bottles of lotion and only one of conditioner. Today I shall attack it with vigor and vim and utter ruthlessness! [Apparently, I'm weirdly sentimental about small zippered cases and can't bear to throw one out. That ends today.])
As a shout out to my dear old college friend Andy Mc, I will now share a few more details re: that tantalizing vacay tidbit I dropped yesterday: "I was dissed by a palomino."
After my Good Uncle died, my dad was sufficiently motivated to take better care of his own health — namely, get out of the chair he chooses to rot in (his words; I ask, "What are your plans for the day?" and he says, "Just rotting") and walk a few blocks. One of his favorite routes takes him to Juniper Street, which I remember as the former home of my elementary school "best" "friend," the Treacherous Songstress, but is also where the palomino in question has a nice field to roam in. (Chico is an agricultural town, there are at least seven horses within an easy walk of my house.)
On our first night there, we stopped to visit Horsy on our way home from dinner, but I was recovering from a migraine (I had one my first day in California, I'm having one now, my first full day in Massachusetts — my head dislikes transition, it seems) and while my parents and kids greeted and petted and made much of the lovely steed, I elected to stay in the car.
Which the horse noticed, apparently.
The next morning, I was up at 6 and bounded out of the house for a long walk, culminating on Juniper Street so I could pay my respects. Horsy was not at the fence this morning, but I could see him in the near distance. "Good morning, Horsy!" I cooed, making kissing noises.
Horsy regarded me for a moment, then sauntered forward, taking his sweet time.
He stopped about a foot away from me and presented his backside. I had to lean hard (over a barbed-wire fence) to barely brush him. In my sweetest animal-loving voice, I said, "Horsy, can you come a little closer? I would love to pet you, for you are magnificent and handsome!"
And then Horsy SNORTED and walked away from me.
I was crushed!!! Only the loving attentions of the enthusiastic dachshund in the next block could restore my spirits.
Later, Mom and I headed out and passed Dad on his way home from his walk. "Did you see that diva horse?" I demanded.
"Well?" I said. "Did he mention me?"
Dad said, "I said, 'Heard you met my daughter,' and the horse went—" and here my dad made the most dismissive grunting sound.
(It should be noted that I saw Horsy several more times and all was well. I got in some good horse-lovin'. But our relationship was definitely not a meet-cute.)
I'm trying to see if I can cure my headache through coffee before I give in and take drugs. So far . . . I think it's too soon to tell. I'll try one more cup.
And by the way, today's blog image is brought to you by the search phrase "hot and headachy." Thanks, Google Images!
Off to lose five more pounds through sweat, and possibly barfing, depending on how my headache progresses. Wish me luck!