Beer. Don’t get me wrong, I love beer. I love good beer. Maybe that makes me a beer snob. I’ll gladly take the label.
But as much as I love beer, I’ve mostly stayed away from it for the past few years. First there was the pregnancy thing. Then there was the whole mom and being the sole source of nutrition for my daughter thing. And yes, she’s older and eating real food, but she still nurses. And as much as I thought I’d be anxious to get back to my regular dates with my porters and ales, it seems the magic is gone.
After all, beer just doesn’t seem to make my life much better these days, despite what the ads want me to believe.
A beer makes a $5 pizza from the place that rhymes with Little Cheezers sound like perfectly fine dinner food.
Pizza! Pizza!
A beer turns a scheduled five mile training run into three because you’ve slept in too late after getting buzzed on one very fine porter the night before after a funeral.
A beer makes you feel bloated the next morning, and when you step on the scale, you realize that you may have just sabotaged your weight loss hopes for the week.
I love beer. I don’t think I’ll stop drinking it, but after laying off the sauce for a few years (I’ve probably had less than a dozen beers in that amount of time), I’m kind of over it.
Weekly Weigh-In
Week Sixteen Weigh-In
Previous Weight: 125.2 lbs
Current Weight: 125.2 lbs
Change: 0 lb
Total Weight Lost: -21.8 lbs
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Sophie’s been waking up every so often from naps or overnight with dry diapers. This morning I thought, what the hell, let’s set her on the toilet and see if she’ll go. And wouldn’t you know, the kid peed on the toilet.
I think she’s way too young to begin actual training, but I think we’ll set her on every once in awhile, just to get her used to it. I’m not looking to set her or myself up for frustration.
Sophie had another first this week when we took her to the Houghton County Fair. We’re small town and yes, we have a county fair. I think it’s your typical small-town affair: the carnies roll in with their rides and games, there are various competitions for art, produce, livestock.
Both sets of Scott’s grandparents were farmers, so he is pretty comfortable around animals. Me? I am fine to keep my distance and stay behind the camera.
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And finally? I got a haircut.
Fourteen years ago I went to a cheap place and got a short cut, similar to this. It was awful. I think I was in a dark place in my life. I swore I’d never cut it this short again.
Even though it isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I went in, it’s growing on me. A friend of mine commented on how he couldn’t understand why mothers cut their hair short. Obviously, he’s never been a mother trying to get ready in the morning with a child clinging to his leg.
I didn’t cut it for that reason, but I did want something shorter and easier to deal with. And maybe I’ve just been a little excited lately that due to my weight loss I now have a visible jawline again.
Did a quick scan of my Flickr feed and found these wonderful photos documenting my adventures in hair throughout the last six years. Enjoy.
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