So this is what I get for all my hard work during the holidays? I'm certain you would like to know what I am talking about, right? I'm talking about the scale I stepped on a few weeks ago, the one that ruined my day, my week, and may be working on my month as well. The scale told me I had gained six pounds since October 2012. Six. Read it and weep (or laugh, I don't care). I knew something was off! My pants were a bit snug, and I was feeling a tad more winded than usual after biking to work. You have to understand, six pounds is a big deal because I am a very short deal. Six pounds on my frame feels like a mush ball has been attached to my butt crack, just sitting there, dragging everything down with it. And since I am not thin, an extra six pounds can feel like a thousand. It's the difference between bending over to tie my shoes, or hiking my leg up on a chair to tie my shoes; the difference between the second set of hooks on the bra, or the first set. The difference between standing at the blending table to put together elixirs, or having to slide a cheek onto a stool for balance. I lay full blame for those six pounds on the scentedibles I created over the holidays. Those goodies changed my life in more ways than one. What was I to do? I am the perfumer, I have the discerning palate, so who else was going to give those goodies the proper attention? I still, to this day, dream of those mocha tangerine patchouli mallows -- tossed into a cup of hot dark coffee -- heaven.
So now I'm working on shedding those scentedible induced pounds, and more if I can manage it. I've put the scented food idea to better use seasoning raw food, cooked vegetarian, and steamed rice. I've been eating healthier since Saturday, the 19th, and already I've dropped three pounds. I've also been biking harder, pushing myself on the ride home (wouldn't want to do it on the way to work and show up a sweaty smelly heaving mess) to expend a few extra calories, instead of meandering through the neighborhood looking at all the old homes and odd people and strange 'happenings' that are a constant around here. I would not be kidding if I said it is possible to be witness to at least two very weird things a day, and dozens of mildly strange things, if one sat upon my porch and watched the neighborhood be itself. Weird as in two men sword fighting with fence posts, in earnest, until one gives up and they both split before the police show up, or a panhandler walking up the walkway and onto the verandah, plucking a columbine flower out of the pot, and then asking for spare change ... and a cigarette. I find it very odd that someone would just walk up to a house and ask for money and a smoke, and odder still that two grown men would go after one another with big sticks right out in the street, but hey, that's the Tower, evidently. They even have a Facebook page. The Tower District. Bonkers, man.
Off to work at the J O B. Some day my ship will come in and I won't have to do that gig anymore. Dreams are great, aren't they?