It’s officially Spring in the mountains. We kind of whisper that at first. There’s always the chance of a snow storm. My birthday is the first week of May and I have recent memories of retrieving snowboots from the back of my closet after my birthday a few times in the last few years.
But there are flowers everywhere. The air is blue. The hills are green with new pine growth bright green on the tips of every pine and my eyes are puffy with allergies and my nose is running with the pollen. SPRINGTIME.
Spring is also prime get in shape time around here. We can’t really do January 1st as you know, it’s cold and we need are carbs to keep warm. But now —here we go!
I’m seeing all sorts of neighbors I haven’t seen since, well September (when it started to get cold). People are out walking at night. Riding their bikes. My kids are probably days away from jumping in ice cold watering holes.
Me? I’m dieting. I’m hiking and walking. I’m middle aged and it occurred to me the other day that to be really healthy I need to lose the equivalent of my 8 year old daughter in weight. I look at her. I look at me. I look at her. I look at me. Somewhere in me, there is her. And I need to lose the equivalent of her.
I wish I could ride a bike but I’m afraid of it. I’ll be the person who crashes into the logging truck. I’ll be the person the drunk driver takes out. I’ll be the person who other people make fun of from the back as they pass me in their car and run me off the road as I’m hunched over on my bike. In the world of dieting, you have to be thinner before you can exercise. I know that makes no sense but it’s true.
I’ve lost the equivalent of my daughter’s arm.
I am dreaming about bread. Challah bread and a really good rye. Like my fantasies now just involve Jewish delis.
Vodka, btw has the lowest GCI.