So on Saturday I went back to my nutritionist, who effectively whooped my ass for slacking off in the healthy eating/exercising more departments.
Also: I popped in to see my beloved Dr Joe and he confirmed a second set of high blood pressure results, so I’m on blood pressure tablets. Like an old lady. Fetch me me lap blanket, will you?
I needed some motivation, and I think it was just handed to me on a platter.
So on Sunday morning we popped along to Ikea and I bought some extra containers to take healthy foods to work. My new plan is to prepare as much as possible for the week ahead on the Sunday to minimise my excuses.
AND LOOK AT MY EFFORTS!! So much rabbit food!

So all I have to do is add yoghurt/salad dressing/proteins/cheeses and VOILA! I can has be healthy!
Please be to Ceiling Cat, let me get my healthy mojo back. Kthnxbai!
I heard a story recently, of a woman who hadn’t had much luck with finding a man.
Even though she had been successful in her career, she felt there was an empty space without someone to share her life with.
She reached her late 40s and had virtually given up hope.
And then she met him. Her love. Her life. And he loved her, too.
Life was perfect.
And then he was diagnosed with cancer. The type that was inoperable and left him with only a few months to live.
Life was falling apart. Her life that was perfect for a few, short months.
They decided to get married before the cancer advanced too much further. An intimate ceremony with only immediate family, followed by dinner at the restaurant where they had their first date, just months before. He needed an oxygen mask to help him breathe.
But they were in love, and they both described it as the happiest day of their life.
After the marriage, his health seemed to improve. Everyone was hoping that the worst was behind them and maybe things were looking up.
But then he got pneumonia.
His doctors and specialists told them the worst: that there wasn’t much time left for him. But he was allowed to stay at home, away from the sterility of the hospital and the hospice. A nurse visited twice a day to assist.
And the family came together. To say their goodbyes to him. To laugh and reminice about the old days. Everyone who played a key role in his life were there.
And she sat on their bed, next to him.
And then he was gone. One month to the day since they got married.
She managed to arrange the funeral and the wake. She received flowers, fruit baskets and sympathetic arms and ears.
She’s still grieving the loss of her love, but I’m told she keeps reminding everyone how lucky she was to find him just in time.
This story still breaks my heart – and how, even with all the turmoil she’s gone through, she’s talking about how lucky she was. It’s definitely given me some perspective on what’s happening in my life at the moment.
I’ve got a big bush of Jasmine in my backyard. I was here when we moved in and all I’ve ever done to look after it is water it occasionally. It keeps wanting to CLIMB and since our backyard is fenced in by brick walls, the only way it can climb is UP.
Since last spring, it’s climbed up to our Nightshade Tree and now resembles something more like the remains of a tin of paint thrown up against a horizontal surface:

When the Jasmine’s in flower, my favourite thing to do is stand in my backyard and just SNIFF.
Me: You can tell that Sam and Dean haven’t had botox – look at all that eyebrow movement!
Dan: Um, we’re older than them, they don’t need botox yet!
Me: No way are we older
Dan: [checking Wikipedia] Okay, Ackles is one month younger than me, two months older than you.
Me: Wait, so Ackles is 31, too?
Dan: [nods] (I’m sure he knew where this was going…)
Me: Woo hoo! I’m in with a chance! I’m off to the States to hook up with Teh Ackles!
…
I mean, really:
Pic courtesy of F*ckYeahJensenAckles
Can’t talk, perving.
Normally I mention my new hair pretty soon after the fact (usually because I’m so excited after letting my hair look like crap for far too long).
But my brain hasn’t been able to deal with too much lately.
But I have to tell you about Shazza, my new love. She, of the hairdresser Glitterbox in Newtown.
Loved the whole experience… the salon, the people, the cut, the colour, the other customers. LOVE!
Shazza was recommended to me by a friend and I’m never going anywhere else.
Best part? Shazza explaining her bargain prices: “If I keep the costs affordable, people will keep coming back”. Damn right we will!
When I got home from my first date with Shazza, I tried to get a photo of the back of my head, and failed:

Did a bit better with the second attempt, but not a whole lot:

Either way, Glitterbox = love