When I woke up this morning, [okay, 'fess up – how many of you added 'you were on my mi-i-i-i-ind' to that phrase?] I decided not to weigh in. I'm thrilled with the lab results I got Thursday. I've felt great ever since then. I walked outside yesterday, and the sun and exertion added a great deal to my sense of well-being.
[Although I must confess my heel does hurt a bit. Marie, thanks for asking in the comments yesterday. I'll continue to do the stretching exercises Dr. C recommended, and get back on the rowing machine this week. I'll be out of town next week – blog break alert! – and I really want to be able to walk outside by then.]
The outdoor walk was a necessity. Mr. Shrinking Knitter and I live 'on a well,' as I frequently hear country people describe their water source. We have perpetual water/well problems, the latest of which is an abundance of air in the line, causing the water to explode from the tap and make very rude noises when the commodes are flushed. The man who installed and maintains our system insists we have a leak, so we walked the line to see if we could find any evidence.
For normal well installations, that wouldn't be much of a walk. But our well is located in a cow pasture at the bottom of a long and very steep hill. We have a powerful water pump to send our water the opposite way it wants to travel, gravity being what it is, and we've had numerous leaks over the years.
A normal leak means a loss of water pressure and muddy water, as well as the addition of air. We only have the air, so we're all at a loss to figure out what's going on.
At any rate, it was a lovely day and we were glad to get outside and enjoy it. It took 50 minutes to get from our house to the well and back again, criss-crossing the hill, avoiding cows [and their used food] and admiring the autumn hillsides. I've had a request for a photo of our fall colors, but I haven't had the camera with me any time I've been out this year.
In addition to the emotional uplift, I was busy all weekend, finishing the Seville [check!] and fixing the plum sweater sleeves [check!]. I put the slow cooker to work in the kitchen making curried chicken, 13-bean soup, black-bean turkey chili and steel-cut oats. It feels good to have had a weekend of good, healthful meals with enough leftovers that I won't need to cook all week.
So with all these endorphins floating around in my body chemistry, why would I f*ck it up by getting on the scale? After I read this SparkPeople message in this morning's e-mail, I'm even more convinced I've made the right decision. I do need to update the Big Three measurements, but even that can wait until later.
I just don't want to be ruled by a number today.
So here's a big 'duh.' The article reports that restaurant chefs aren't counting your calories for you when you dine out. And also mentions that Americans purchase nearly 20 percent of their meals in restaurants or as take-out.
Another reason to be grateful for living in the Middle of Nowhere.