Going for a sugar free day!!!

Vitals
213
Weight - didn't bother

coffee with 1tsp sugar and milk

Oreos are getting the best of me

Wednesday
Vitals 3 days ago
250 fasting
160 pounrds
Word of the day - frustrated.  didn't really eat sugar yesterday - lost weight - go Adkins but sugar was higher.  Yikes level
Walked Mr.  1 mile

Went to see Patrick.  First visit.  Lots to talk about.   Cannibus for sleeping.  Micro-current.  And yes the deadly coffee enemas.  Shingles of John's friend.

Thanksgiving
225 fasting
Word of the day:  Confused
Eat sugar but was mostly good, no walk but sugar was lower.  Don't get it.

Our first turkey trot.  Annie almost died.  Between puppy and Annie no sleep.

Mr B and I fill out the wellness forms

Vitals
238 fasting sugar
Weight - 160 .2
Feeling:  word of the day - schizophrenic (half happy/half sad)

Nutrition - ha!
7:30 - coffee - lst with sugar, 2nd no sugar
10:30 Breakfast -
2:30 Lunch -
4:00 Snack -
6:30 Dinner -
9pm -
2 metformin, bp, chlor, 6 niacin, 10 kidney pills, 3 cups bark-o-tea,

Exercise

The Daddy Babysitter (middle) takes care of Eva (left) and Millie (right)

Millie is on her puppy schedule.  Up at 2:30 for her to pee and drink water so she can pee some more. Up at 5:30 so she can pee, poop and drink water so she will wake up again in another few hours to pee.  Also playtime.  She is working on taking off my right index finger and knawing on my wrist.  Do you think she's trying to kill me?  She also accidentally bites my boob every so often.  It's big and shakes and maybe she thinks it's some kind of balloon toy.

I wake up and it's softly raining but that's going to throw my walk off.  Every dog (all five of them) are asleep on the bed.  Sammi, the shepherd, is trying to make friends will Millie by lapping her big tongue on her face.  Her tongue is longer than Millies face and after a couple of lickings, her entire head looks like it's been hit with a firehouse.  Mr. B is showing his distaste for her by shunning Millie.  The little old girls have moved to the foot of the bed.  I think they are considering jumping off it to commit suicide.  It's a long jump for miniature dashies.

I grab Mr. B up and take him in the spare bedroom (that I used to call Hankie's room) where I usually land in the morning to write and read before the daily mayhem begins.  Dog politics are running high in the house.  Every morning Hankie and I would get up and come in this room and I would read and have coffee.  I needed Mr B to join me so the memories of this room would get replaced with something alive.  Millie hasn't stopped my sadness.  Only time can help with that.  But changing dynamics is worth the try.

As for my health plan.  I really thought I did better yesterday.  And it's frustrating that even without eating a bag full of Oreos I'm still at 238.  I am definitely learning how fundamental exercise is and know I could knock at least 30 points off this number if I'd walk today.  But it's raining.  I'm not one of those Olympic type girls that get up in the freezing cold to ice skate my ass off for 8 hours before having a protein drink and skating again for another 8 hours while nursing my blisters and chanting 'be strong, be strong'.  I was very athletic growing up and active -- but also very much a girly girl.  But girls my age gave up those types of things so pretty much after 6tth grade, I traded chin-ups for the more traditional sit on the bleachers and watch play football.

I love the fact that it's raining but I hate the messing up of my exercise program.  If I was alone I would consider putting music on and dancing for an hour.  But the key word is 'consider'.

I'm about the dwelve into reading the 34 page document from Cuenca Holistic Wellness Center where I will divulge the intricacies of my eating and lifestyle habits.  I really don't have a lifestyle yet, but I am hoping they will find me a great, positive one.

I will fill them out in pencil, as I'm am non-committal in all things in life.

Note:  I don't know how to use spellcheck on this so fuck it.  I also have a computer that doesn't type certain letters sometimes.  It's always doing lie instead of like.  So that mistake is not Freudian, it's Microsoft fucking with my head..

Day 5 - Can Millie keep me from eating Oreos

Vitals
231 fasting sugar
Weight - not today senor
Feeling:  word of the day - Foreboding.
Also, tentative and a bit sscared.  Like I have to  go to work today and I'm dreading it..  And I don't want to give up my tools for running away from feelings.  I'm happy now, and the thought of digging up bad things I've done or that were done to me makes me anxious and sad. 

7:30 - coffee - lst with sugar, 2nd no sugar
10:30 Breakfast - roasted chicken & 2 deviled eggs
2:30 Lunch - large salad with chicken and peanut/thai dressing
4:00 Snack - Green drink - strawberries, kale, almond milk
6:30 Dinner - chicken with some brown rice
9pm - Tablespoon of peanut butter
2 metformin, bp, chlor, 6 niacin, 10 kidney pills, 3 cups bark-o-tea,

Walk - 1 1/2 with Mr. B
Mr. B's Mood - Dr. Jeckel and Mr. Hyde.  Plays with Millie, but by night time hated her.  Jealous.


Millie and I had a delightful night of getting up and down through the wee hours.  I need this.  She actually slept in my gown part of the night and at 5:30am decided it was time to get up to eat.

She LOVES food and screams like I'm killing her when I pick up her finished bowl.  As if screaming before dawn will get her a side of beef.  I feel tentative about loving her.  Like I'm betraying Hank  As a bassett she'll get too big for me to make her my baby.  Milly may be Rowlands dog after all.  But having her bare skin across my chest this morning makes me almost feel like crying - it's so sweet,

I started back on the anti-depressants.  I guess I'm not ready to stop.  I think it was moving into something much worse - like clinical depression.  I'm so happy all the time towards everyone.  And it's genuine.  I'm happy to be with friends.  But being an introvert, it wears me out.  I feel like I could stay in the house forever and probably need that much time to fill the cup that became so empty.

I did great on the health plan yesterday until around 8pm - when I sprung for 12, yes 12 cookies.  Oreos.  What is this with the late eating?  I already had sugar in my coffee this morning.  When I got to a 6.7 on my A1C I had sugar in my coffee but no more sugar after that.  I feel like a failure.  So today, I will try again.  But the answer to the question is NO, Millie did not stop me from eating oreos.  Good news - I just found an Oreo that rolled off the bed - so I only had 11 cookies.

I see Patrick-opath on Wednesday.  After he see's what he's up against, he may show me the door.  Which isn't all bad because there is a New York Pizza restaurant across the street.

Day 4 - Sometimes you can buy love

Vitals
7"30
231 blood sugar
178 after walk
 weight 161.2
9am walked Beagleman around 1 1/2 miles
10:30am Breakfast - 1/2 ham sandwich with cheese

2:30 - leftover chicken enchiladas with beans (saucer size)

3 cups bark-o-tea

8pm - 12 oreos - mother fucking oreos

WTF.  I totally screwed up yesterday including drinking a bottle of wine and eating a Hershey bar.  Neither of which made me feel better (well, maybe the hersheys). 

Row and I both had our breakdowns yesterday.  Struggling over our losses.  Tiff and Hankie.  They gave us no notice.  NONE.  How can someone just die on you. 

I just did a 'what the fuck; and jumped into the black hole of depression.  I cried for an hour.  I just can't get over Hankie's death.  This dog was my heart. 

I had stopped anti-depressants a month ago and  felt I was okay.  And so did Row.  And we weren't okay.   It is so evident that the drug does help us.  The tidal wave of grief of losing our dog, combined with the first anniversary of Tiffany's death was too much.

I believe it was Rosie O'Donell who said, "Having depression is like having an open window into your mind.  All kinds of bugs can come in.  Anti-depressants are like putting a screen on the window.  It helps keeps the bugs out."

I like that.  And as of today, we are back on them.  I also did something that I didn't want to do, but felt it could help and right now I could use all the help I can get.  It's Milagro -(Spanish for miracle) or Milly.  She's a husbpuppy that we bought (yes sorry) at felibre libre (I think that's the market's name).  She was sitting in a wire cage with a bunch of other dog breeds (or races as they say here).  She was sound asleep and when I picked her up she barely moved.  I was afraid she was sick  So I bought her.  And Rowland really liked her.  He picks good dogs, and I go with his instincts.  He's also in charge of naming dogs.  And he named her before he even got the money out of his wallet.

I feel guilty buying a dog.  But as Row said, sometimes you rescue a dog, and sometimes a dog rescues you.

Here's a picture of her sleeping on Row's arm.  I think he needed this as much as me.  We got Hankie on Thanksgiving day.  We were at a very rough spot in our marriage - mostly due to me.  And we were thinking of splitting.  But decided to get a  dog instead like when couples 'get pregnant' to try nd save a marriage.  We needed a diversion.  A reason to look ahead instead of where we were.  Hankie was our dog, that is until my dog Emily died and Hankie saw an opening to be my one and only. 

He slept inside my gown almost every night.  Even as an adult.  So I just got bigger and bigger gowns.  I would post his picture here, but it hurts to much to see him.  But he was a precious long haired tan dachshund who acted like a puppy until he died at age 10, 12 - whatever, it was still too soon.

So maybe Milly can help us heal.  If one of the other dogs don't kill her first.  Maybe Millie can do what Hank did.  He came into my life when I really needed someone to love and someone to put some glue on a marriage that was coming apart.  Looking at how glued Millie is to Rowland right now, it seems like she already has a big head start.

Day 3 - No bread senorita

Vitals
7:30
233 fasting blood sugar
162.2 weight

7:30 - cup of coffee/milk NO sugar

9am Walk with Mr. B
10:30am
206 blood sugar
Breakfast:  roasted chicken, asparagus, 2 eggs and mushrooms

2pm wine for lunch and half a hamburger (see notes below)

7pm more wine and one piece of pizza

Hopefully ambein and nothing more
Grade for today # out for 5

Nearing the 100s but it's still 34 points away.  I'm frustrated.  If I could just make myself not eat anything after 7pm and also cut out bread I'd be fine.  I did eliminate sugar but went crazy with the soy sauce yesterday.  Sometimes I wish I could just have an induced coma to get throught this.

There's two challenging things I'm trying to do.  Get in physical/metal shape, and grow a pixie cut out.  I'm not sure which one is harder.

When I was a kid in 6th grade, I had the longest hair in school and was up for the role of the 'mermaid' in our school play.  Then two dreaded things happened.  A new girl moved to town with longer hair and snatched that plum role from me AND my mom took me to the hair salon for my first cut and surprised me by telling the woman to chop my hair off to my shoulders.  I was devastated.  A few weeks ago, when I was with my 84 year old mom, she commented that when I was a kid I insisted on getting my hair chopped off.   It's funny how our memories rewrite history to justify the harsh things we do. 

I remember sobbing so loud that the hair dresser stopped and I was left with a very lopsided hair cut and ended up playing the part of a stagecoach (yes, concealed in a box shaped like a stagecoach) at the class play.  The folks didn't show up anyway.  But I've had short hair ever since.

Now that I'm 60.  I want to either grow my hair to my waist (ha) and try to get a mermaid role or when I reach 145 cut it back to a pixie.  Not sure which one.

Here's a shot of me on my September 11 (what a great date) birthday straddling the 60th stair (out of 470) at Turi.  I don't want to do before and after shots here.  My self esteem is low enough without shaming myself.  But you get the picture.

So I'm suppose to also track my feelings.  I had nightmares last night.  I dreamed that Rowland collapsed and stopped breathing and I was giving him mouth to mouth and he turned into my recently deceased dog which got very sick when I was out of the country for a wedding and ended up in the emergency clinic.  I feel tremendous guilt because if I wouldn't have gone to the states, Hankie would still be alive.  He died after two agonizing days in the clinic, and I stayed with him all day until they kicked me out at night and prayed, chanted, held his little paw.  But during the middle of the night, the vet called Hankie was gone.  There is an empty spot on the bed beside me where he sleep every night but there is an even bigger hole in my heart which as of now, seems bottomless.  I woke up sad.  Did tapping - EFT, an energy balancing method,  to try and erase those memories.  Poured a big cup of coffee and cried like a baby while everyone slept.  Checked on Row and he was still breathing.  So one out of two ain't bad.

But oddly enough, I am happier now than I have ever been.  The brief sad moments don't consume me like the bag full of grief I was carrying around.  But I have to admit, losing Hankie is harder than losing Tiffany, the step-daughter I helped raise.  Unconditional love is always harder to lose.  But losing both within a year  has been gut wrenching.  Both their deaths Quick.  No notice.  Here one minute, gone the next.  Like  a  brief strong summer storm that moves quickly through your heart leaving devastation behind.

I could really use a donut right now.

Got back from my walk from Mr. B and row was in a tear.  He needs to be on anti-depressants and me as well..  Losing his daughter and our dog, moving, starting a new job full-time, learning the language -- it's a lot for anyone to handle.  Especially row.  I am sure he has Tiff's problem, bi-polar.  He has problems focusing on anything and is up most of the night.  He looks different when he's manic.  Most of the time he's a dear, but when the manic side comes he judges and rages a lot.  And buys every "Buy Now and get Shipping Free" item off tv.   His eyes are wide and round  The hair on his head and eyebrows stick up. He's face is pulled up.

But when it is directed as me I'm afraid.  His hair stands up including his eyebrows.  We walk Samantha, but he's mad.  Mad at my for ever existing.  After a block, when he rages at me for pulling the dog off the street and tightening the leash, I turn back.  I write a note saying I've packed my bags and have left.  I ride the number 5 until it ends.

I call him, out of love and guilt.  He is riding he number 3 till it ends.  I say meet me at Coffee Tree.  I cry for 30 minutes before he gets there, missing Hankie.  I would never have left when Hankie was alive.  He needed a home.  I needed peace.  And Hankie was enough for me to be  okay.  I tell the waitress my tears are for my dog, but she thinks I said I cried because the food is bad.   I hate Spanish.  A neighboring table lets her know what I meant.  I leave a big tip.

Row arrives and he is right that I shouldn't threaten to leave.  Leave a note. 

I just want a few years of not being circled by the dysfunction of  both me and men.  I just want peace.  Patrick-opath may be disappointed that I drank the day away.  But maybe he will help me.  Is it me or the world. 

Do I create my own dysfunction and chaos?  Am I strong enough to live a different life.  Are there men that exist that make life easy?  Is that in the cards for me?

Day 2 - Can I make it through the night

Vitals/Stats

7:30am -
274 sugar - fasting
161.8 weight
Mood: frustrated because of m&ms - what's wrong with me.  Do I enjoy killing myself over sugar

Took metformin, glipcize ER, bp pill, cholesterol pill, liver pills.  Boiled bark ad tea stems for 'renal' tea.  Love the tea, but something is giving me the runs.

9:30
Breakfast with my friend Sarah.  Dropped off Cuenca Bitches stuff.  Raising money for the pups.
Scrambed eggs with veggies and ham.  Her dog Lizzie (min-pin) helped eat the eggs (sat perfectly In return for eggs!) and her hubby ate my white bread (no sitting)

Walked for 45 minutes in search for a bank and quilt for bed.  Found both.

2:30
Lunch - a ham and cheese sandwich with lots of lettuce and tomato

I'm tired, but cleaned the house rather than sleep.  It's 3:30 and I already want to go to bed. Not unhappy, just draggy.

I can't say I'm dreaming of strawberry cake - but I would be if I was sleeping.

4:30 Eat  as much thai salad as is humanely possible to eat. Thousands of bunnies couldn't out some.  Peanut and soy sauce. REALLY.  I'm so full that I feel like I'll explode.

Reminds me this children's book, Georgie the Pig,  I used to read that book all the time.  It's about  a pig that eats so many donuts that he explodes.  Who writes something like that for children to read. But I have to admit I loved that book.

Now I want donuts.

8:30pm - still want a snack - damn it!   I eat 4 slices of ham - 2 rolled up with cheese and 2 no cheese.

10:30 - after watching Galapagos - the arrival of Satan about a murder on Felano(?) Island I was hyped up to take 1/2 of an ambien.  I turned off the TV and listened to the trucks roar by and gave up trying to sleep over them   I even have a sound machine but that doesn't come close to matching the sounds of motorcycles driving, what seems like, right through my living room.  So no, I can't make it through the night without eating.

I go into my other room and can fall asleep easily.  But I miss being in bed with the dogs and Row.  But it's like I've slipped into sleep heaven as soon as I lay down in the private room.

But I still could use some donuts.

No sugar or salt - week one

Vitals:
162 pounds
231 fasting blood sugar 7:30 am
208 after hour walk and metformin
92 pulse

10am - niacin, coffee and milk, blood pressure, cholesterol taken

Breakfast - KFC chicken leg, ham and cheese sandwich

Noon - so tired I could sleep forever but my husband woke me after 15 minutes of my very first 'nap' I've tried as an adult  So on to Supermaxi

4pm  - Green drink with protein powder - kale, apple, cucumber, carrot, protein powder, avocado

6pm -roast chicken breast with skin and wing, 1/2 cup brown rice, 1/2 cup beans, 1 cup asparagus with some asparagus soup mix sprinkled on it.

Yikes - at 10:30 I had some Adkins m&ms and 2 tbs of peanut butter.  This is NOT cool.

Day 1 - Patrick the Natur-opath

I really thought Patrick-opath was great.  He looks like a naturopath, holistic healer should look- tall, thin, youthful.  He's peaceful and calm - even when his computer crashes.  The office is this great hacienda in the middle of town with no sign. The place smells 'spa-like' but there's no freakish Anya music lurking in the background.   It's my initial visit and I don't see any enema bags hanging in the bathroom, so it's safe.

The intake takes an hour. They try to heal you in 3 areas:  Nutrition - switching Burger King for green juices and healthy fats (I didn't know there was such a thing).  Psychological guidance - stresses that are causing health problems - just ask my jelly belly.  Energy work - cells are energy not being in balanced from a cellular level leads to all kinds of physical and emotional problems.

I lap this stuff up.  I saw Fat, Sick and Almost Dead.  I know I eat like shit.  When I started juicing and cut out sugar early in the game after my early retirement, I felt like a different person.  But the draw of sugar, fat and all things Twinkie crashed my will power.  I showered my unforgiving liver with all kinds of toxic challenges that helped relieve my stress: junk food, binge drinking, ambein, barbeque ribs, high doses of prescription meds for high blood pressure, cholesterol, diabetes.  And loads of aspirin for pain.

I also know psychologically, I'm in rough shape.  The past year was right out of a Stephen King novel.  I had a rough boss with ADD and his lover with bi-polar that worked for me, I got in a car wreck that injured 4 vertebrae in my neck, I had bad office policies and a snarky co-worker that liked to go to my boss and make up stories about me and my staff,  55 hour work weeks - 6 days a week which led to me quitting (yay). But no job and no money sucks when you are the breadwinner. And then to top it off, my stepdaughter (who I helped raise) dropped dead within a few minutes from a heart embolism on Halloween - just as I was winning my costume contest for dressing as Miley Cyrus as I was re-enacting her MTV performance of Blurred Lines.

As for as energy, I didn't have any.

Patrick took notes on all of this and after about 3 pages of my maladies and miseries, he politely said "I think we have enough to work with here".  He's probably moved by now so I can't come back.  Or is busy getting lots of energy work himself because of the sparks that were flying off me. 

He asked if I would like the complete consultation package and I jumped on with both feet.  He handed me a stack of papers to fill out and gave me simple instructions "No sugar or salt for the next week".

It would be easier for me to fly to the moon, which I had always hoped was made of cheese.  But at least there were no coffee enemas suggested.

Day before Eat Shit or Die-abetes Plan

The Ecuadorians laugh at Mr. B riding in the stroller.

This is actually my notes from Nov. 19th, the day before I go on my eat shit and die-abetes plan.  I had good intentions to get a head start.  I weighed and I am 5 lbs. heavier than 2 months ago when I totally ditched my healthy eating habits.  My blood sugar was 268.  I downed a metformin and coffee with a tsp of sugar and headed out the door with Mr. Beagleman for a walk.  Mr. Beagleman has gained a pound since we started our walking plan days ago so we both hope our scale is off.

We think the evil Eva, our 8 pound long hair dachshund is sabotaging us by turning up the scale so we will weigh more.  Eva looks cute, but she's named after Eva Peron, so that says enough. That's her on the left.

The day pretty much went to shit after my healthy walk.  I did down a green juice drink my blood pressure med and cholesterol med.  Then headed out to breakfast with my friend CJ for breakfast.  I had a omelet and tosta integral (wheat).  I talked about going to Patrick the naturopath.  I'm concerned because anyone with a 'opath' at the end of their title scares me - like socio-path, psych-opath.  I hear he is 'devout' to his alternative treatments which include micro-currents (downgraded voltage version of the old fashioned electroshock therapy programs - I hear faint screams of Frances Farmer).  Vitamins, special teas, EFT, probably a coffee enema or two thrown in.  CJ looks disgusted.

"I'm not doing any coffee enemas".  I haven't know CJ long and fear if I disclose too much she'll pull the plug on our newfound friendship.  Living in Cuenca with only 3000 expats in our fold doesn't leave a lot of room for error.  One wrong statement and the entire clan could shun you.

"You'll change your mind if I lose 10 pounds in one day," and CJ agrees she might give it a try.  Her idea of a perfect hour is on a massage table getting a deep rub, an IV of wine hooked up to her arm, and a chocolate mint on her pillow.

I then have lunch with my friend Sandy.  We catch up quickly as we can, dissing our husband, who we now live with full time since retirement.   We are then attending a conversational Spanish class.  Sandy, her husband Mike, and I have been taking classes from different places for 7 months and we still barely speak Tarzan Spanish.  Mike and I like to refer to ourselves as dumb and dumber. He skips the class so he can have a few hours of non stop computer play while Sandy joins me.  We spend the next hour trying to utter words to form sentences that make sense with the other gringos at the table.  I called my friend Gail hot for sex, when I actually meant her food was hot.  After that I was pretty quiet.  But it was fun.  Good practice.  And for lunch I order 'comer de hamburgesa y ensalada'.  And ate the entire big oversized burger plus some of Gail's fries.

I walked Sandy to her bus stop and continued the hour walk to spend time with Naturopath Patrick, famed curing of diabetics in Cuenca.  I'll talk about him in the next post.  Everything he said made since, but since I had already blown the day, I thought I'd continue my final blow out day by eating two pieces of pizza before I went out to dinner.  I don't usually binge eat like this - but I feared it will be a long time since I shook hands with a pizza again - so the already non existent will power was tossed aside.

The last step in my day of decadence was dinner out with American and Euadorian friends at what we call Iberian Cheers-it's located in Iberia Park.  My friend Judy had cooked Tex-Mex and strawberry cake. I am sure none of this is on the new health plan.  I did pass on wine and beer - woo-hoo.  I washed my metformin down with diet coke.

I popped half a ambien, 2 Niacin tablets and 2 aspirin. At 10:30pm I shared half a piece of cake with Samantha, our shepherd.

I'm suppose to write down everything I eat and drink and show it to Patrick-opath.  I am sure when he analyzes my diet, he will probably list my time left in minutes rather than years.

Saying Goodbye to a Good Friend

Quitting a High Stress Job and Moving to Ecuador has dropped my stress rate tremendously.  No more hectic work schedule with unappreciative bosses.  No more staff members trying to push you down to raise themselves up.  Just getting away from all those nasty triggers that drive my bad behavior has been great.

I'd rather live at poverty level than be rich, and almost dead.  I used to wash away the days of stress with 3 glasses of wine at night (as if). And that was in the car on the way home!  Ha. I didn't drink on the weekends because no stress.  I have reduced my drinking by 85% just because I am not so stressed since moving to Ecuador.  It's amazing how much we think we're addicted to all kinds of things,, and we are.   But it's the American lifestyle. 

I tried to cut down or quit drinking quite a few times because I no longer wanted it in my life and I got tired of drunk-texting and feeling like shit the next day.  But after a day at work with office politics, long endless meetings that resulted in more long endless meetings, coming home to a dirty house, unwashed dishes, no dinner prepared, a hungry husband, being the breadwinner and the fear of losing my job (which I hated), 5 dogs that made my living room look like Beirut ... yada, yada, yada .... and no wonder wine seemed like a good idea.

But now . . . as part of the health regime, it needs to go.  My type 2 diabetes numbers are so high I have to choose my liver or my wine.  It's not an easy choice.  But I have to increase my meds so much in order to get my sugar down that I can feel my liver crying 'uncle'.  Oh God, giving up wine?  It makes me wish for some stress.

Day 8 - Eight Days of Laze

My last day of laze- the day of beauty. I did my nails, cut my hair and because plastic surgery is so cheap here - I got a Kim Kardashian butt. I'm re-enacting her now famous champagne glass on her butt photo. I bet my sister is jealous! Last day of laziness. Row gets back today and I'll have to behave until February when he goes out of town again.

Day 7 - Eight Days of Laze

Turned my dark bedroom in a fun light room just by hunting around the house for throws, rearranging curtains, painting the walls. I'm running out of rooms to do. Only took the dogs 3 minutes before they hopped on the bed.   My little dogs, Annie and Eva have on jackets to keep them warm, they aren't part of the 'new decorations'.  They look like turtles.

Day 6 - Eight Daze of Laze

What's the best thing to do when your husband's away. Throw out their trash and redecorate the spare room. This is the apartment that guests (if we ever have some) can stay in but it needed an overhaul. First pix - before. Second pix - threw out trash in room and even the Ecuadorian man in the background (me in PJs) couldn't find anything to take (and they take everything). Other pixs are the after. Took Mr. Beagleman just a few minutes to get on the new bed.   Now back to lazing.

Day 5 - Eight Days of Laze

Having fun at the birthday party with sister-friend Stefani and friends. Girls just want to have fun! Pajama party is on!  Switched to pajama bottoms to show how much 'class' I have.

Day 4 - Eight Days of Laze

Time is flying by and I only have a few days left before Row comes back and I start my program with the naturopathic doctor. Need to make sure I get all my  indulgences in before D Day (D as in Doctor).  Have been in bed with my buddies for hours streaming Dexter. Long enough to get bedsores. Have a party to go to tomorrow night and am thinking I should NOT wear pajamas because I have to ride the bus. Not sure if you can get arrested in Ecuador for going out in pajamas. May find out. But I hate to break my 'wearing PJs' record.  Mr. Beagleman is the only one that has been in bed longer than me.

Day 3 - Eight Days of Laze

When my Husband's Away - I Play!
I do miss Row but it's amazing the things you can do when no one is watching. Guess which one is my breakfast and which one is my dinner. And yes, I'm still in my pajamas!

Day 2 - Eight Days of Laze

My friend John stopped by to fix Hulu. That's him with Beagleman and me. That's the Voice on in the background - there is a God. I offered John sex in return for fixing the TV but he turned me down. Maybe it was the socks and sandals. Or that I'm married. Or that I'm in 'old lady' pajamas.

Day 1 - Eight Days of Laze

5:40 am  on Friday Nov. 7– I get up to help Row pack. The house looks like an earthquake just happened. Things are thrown everywhere. There are more electronics laid out on the kitchen table than Bill Gates has in his entire house.

Chaos ensues for the next 30 minutes. Bags are packed and unpacked as he looks to make sure items are packed. Where’s the camera? Where’s the car phone charger? Do I have rubber bands? Where as I would be looking for more pertinent items… like passports (his is laying on the floor waiting for one of the dogs to chew it to pieces) or airline tickets or do I have my teeth in? (Note picture of him insuring me he has his teeth!)

 
This is exhausting. But I realize that it will soon be over and he will be off to the airport and I will crawl back in bed knowing there is a Hershey’s chocolate bar waiting for breakfast!
My head is spinning with delight as I envision days filled with watching Dr. Oz, streaming Dexter, and eating popcorn. I can’t wait! 

I know this is my last week of careless eating before I start my diabetes 'natural cure' program.  So of course - with no  adult supervision (my husband) this a crucial week for trying to hit as many of the deadly 7 sins. as possible.

8 Days of Laze

After being unhealthy for a good 30 years, I've decided to register for a natural 'cure' for my type 2 diabetes.  But before I start my program next week, I've been spending the last week by having "Eight Days of Laze".  My husband, Rowland is out of town so I can do anything because no one is watching... knowing next week the real work beings. 

Blood test this morning:  268 yikes!  weight - didn't go there because I was afraid it would be 160.  I'm 5'5" and hoping I grow a few more inches so the weight will be more appropriate.  Ha!