The drive into work this morning was astounding. It was foggy, so all of the winter trees had grown white fur overnight -- they looked like they were wearing sweaters. This was my first drive in the fog from our new house and I felt like I was driving though an alien landscape -- the white of the snow blended with the white of the fog in such a way that the road appeared to end mid-page, as if someone had erased it from the landscape. The fog hung low enough that only the bottom half of trees were visible, the also added to the whole "erased" feeling.
I think that country snow is just whiter than city snow. For one thing, the plows don't criss-cross the roads repeatedly all night long, laying a dusting of sand. They aren't as traveled, so the city soot is non-existent. Drifts mound like powdered sugar, casting blue shadows. Yet three paces from a four-foot drift, the wind has scrubbed the landscape clean, bristly brown grass pokes through the sparse scattering of snow. Naturally, the biggest drifts on our property are between our house and garage, the sidewalk now seems like a tunnel for Violet as the snow is as deep as her ears.
Anyway... In other news I am finishing Day 2 of low-carbing. I truly can't lose weight any other way, so I finally bit the bullet and decided that if we want to conceive child #3, I've got to get my rear in gear and lose weight. Aside from a general chocolate-withdrawal grumpiness, I'm managing OK so far. I even selected a good lunch at the college's dining service this afternoon -- a huge mixed-greens salad with cherry tomatoes, sunflower seeds, blue cheese (hey! I'm not pregnant yet!), and garbanzo beans. I put the cheese on in lieu of salad dressing -- fewer carbs and no added sugar. Then I only got seasoned meat from the dangerous side of the dining room -- I passed by tortillas, pineapple crisp, soft-serve ice cream, risotto with three kinds of olives (I DIE for a good olive) and pork fried rice. Yay me!
Exercise is another issue entirely. I really LIKE to exercise, particularly when it's in a group setting. But finding an affordable class in our small town is impossible. I have a facebook friend that I envy -- she goes to hip-hop aerobics, turbo kick, and other butt-burning classes to which I simply don't have access. Plus, her husband works regular hours, so she can count on him to be home to watch her daughters so that she can work out for a couple of hours. So not my life... I miss that regularity, though. And I love the feeling I get after I've really pushed myself. I actually LIKE that sore muscle feeling. Not a hurt muscle, but a sore one. I like the gnawing ache because it is a very clear reminder that I've accomplished something. Maybe some day...
As soon as I post this, I'm going to put a post-it note with my weight on my bathroom mirror. I'll change it if my weight changes. Maybe this will be the equivalent of the picture of a grotesquely obese woman in a bikini that other weight-lost questing people put on their refrigerators. I don't want to scare the kids, after all. I do want to be in better shape and soon, before Violet can really remember me as anything but fit, healthy and happy.
I can remember that every January, my mom would start some new-exercise-something as a resolution. But it was forcing something on her that she really didn't enjoy, so she never followed through. Do I really want my kids to think that I can't follow through? Do I want them to be able to name off eight or nine exercise machines that got a lot of use for two weeks after the holidays, then got absorbed into the landscape of the house, serving as clothes hangers or pit stops for backpacks? No. So I need to take care of this soon, before four slips into five and memory becomes permanent.