We Had No Temperature
2007-03-06, 4:09 p.m.
The local weather forecasters went and chickened out. None of the ones I heard yesterday had the brass to call for a low of zero or below for the overnight. Had an opportunity to show why I’m calling them chickens. Looky here:
The image is a little fuzzy, but in essence it is showing that we had NO TEMERATURE here this morning. Well 0 degrees F at least. (And I was pointing generally westward) This was taken at the crack of 6:20 or so. I was headed to the gym, just getting off the expressway, waiting at a traffic light. So technically, I wasn’t operating my van while using a cell phone (An infraction worthy of a $50+ fine here in phone friendly New York. IF a cop ever stops you for it.) If you look carefully, you can even see a tiny piece of my own loveable mug, hiding in the rearview mirror, just behind the phone.
An hour or so later, as I was headed to work, it had warmed up immensely. Got up to 1. Supposed to climb all the way up to 11 today. The county due south of us is closed. The whole county, closed. Requesting no travel except for emergency vehicles, or those people getting to the emergency vehicles. I guess with the wind last night, things got pretty nasty down there. Horizontal blizzard and all. Plus, being so cold (0 dude!) road salt doesn’t do much snow melting. Folks around here are used to driving on salted roads, which really isn’t that bad, but when the salt doesn’t work, there’s lots of black ice that looks like it’s bare pavement. Hit a patch of that on a curve, or get hit by a gust of wind while you’re crossing some? Oops. Off in a ditch for you.
So gym this morning. Fine, great. Got there a little late so only ran – no weights this morning. Tomorrow, I promise.
In response to some of those comments – I’d rather be 180 lbs than 200. Even now, I’m at 195 (weighed fresh this morning )and really – there’s plenty of excess that could go. Now that I’ve got pictures working here, maybe I can torture you with shots of what I really want to lose. Like that extra little roll right over my belt, or the looseness of the skin over my abs, and a little tightening of the pecs. Now I see that some of you are professing to like your guys at 200+ pounds, but really? I’ll admit that 200 looks better on me than 265 did (see the before photos in my flickr account) but there’s room for improvement that you all just can’t see. Yet. Till I torture you. See those shots from 9/21/06? That was my brief flirtation with 185 this century. I could live with that, as long as I can get that tightening up done via weight lifting. I think it’s mostly extra skin, left over from the days of greater girth (as opposed to merry mirth). But it’s gotta go, as long as I can do it without the assistance of a surgeon.
Ooh! Surgeon. I should get a picture of my shark bite & post it. Too bad I don’t have any pictures from the healing process. That’d be sure to gross out a few. The story is related back on May 25, 2005. If you want, go look, it’s in the archives. I’m too lazy to go post another link. If I think of it, I’ll grab a photo or two of the resulting scar and be sure to share. Just be assured that now, 7 or 8 years later, it doesn’t hurt at all, unless I whack it on something. But then, a lot of things hurt when you smack them, so who’s to know the difference?
Cindy was very odd last night. I got a phone call at work, 5:30-ish, just as I was wrapping up to go. She wanted me to pick stuff up at the grocery store on the way home. Stuff for dinner (White beans & rice. Yummy dish. Our interpretation of a Wegmans recipe) It’s not unusual that she called. Well, after last weekend, it might be. But she was VERY talkative, trying very hard to be upbeat & cheerful. And VERY talkative. Did I mention that she couldn’t shut up? Weird. Then it occurred to me. She was drunk already. That’s how she gets after the first salvo or two. Form there, it’s all down hill.
So I leave the salt mine, do the shopping on the way home (chicken stock, cannelini beans, skim milk, roasted red peppers, rice, low fat mayo (for lunches), white chocolate Reeses cups (no Lent for me baby – they didn’t make it home in one piece either), think there was more, but I don’t really remember) unload the goods in the kitchen and start to help out. I got salad duty. One look at Cindy and I got verification of what I figured out over the phone. Her 2 day break was officially over and we are (she is) into the “wet phase” again.
Circe – unless she mysteriously gets very good at hiding things, I know for certain she takes a day or two off once a week or so. She has so many little ‘tells’ to indicate the exact level of her drunkenness that there’s no way she could all of a sudden not exhibit any symptoms. Her tells range from the glassy look in her eyes, to how she holds her hands when they’re idle, to the constant sniffing every 15 seconds like she smells something nasty, to her tortoise like pace when taking 3 steps across a room, to her waving around when she’s standing like she’s stuck in a stiff breeze. There’s also the hiccups, inside out burps, (she can’t burp to save her life. Secretly she’s very jealous of the boys & I), and the repeating herself three times in one sentence, then an additional 3 repeats every 15 minutes. Those are the biggies, listed in no particular order. Not that I’ve been paying attention or anything, but I figure it’s important to know her mental state when deciding just how to interpret the latest statements or actions.
There’s also the inexplicable attraction to the Lifetime Network. Gah, please – there’s only 5 different movies they ever show. The actors & scenery may change, but the plots never vary. Also known as “The All Men are Bad Channel” And she wonders why I favor reading or entertainment via computer over watching TV with her.
That was a long way to go to get to: So perhaps she doesn’t drink quite as much as you think, Circe. In terms of whiskey – it runs right around 2 – 3 liters per week, plus the occasional bottle of wine, a few beers and some real Irish coffee. It all depends on the perceived stress level and amount of time available to sneak off to her stash and pour another. I know the consumption amounts because A) – I used to keep track really, really well and B) – I take the trash out and see the empties in the trash can. She SHOULD be recycling the glass, but I think she’s embarrassed by the number of empties. Or she thinks she’s being successful at hiding it. Physical consequences? There are no visible DT’s or sweating episodes, but she can certainly be hell on wheels emotionally. Bitter, depressed, won’t talk directly to me, only talks to the kids. Kinda like being in Jr. High School all over again.
I was also wondering, could there be an element of bi-polar or manic/depressive behavior going on, or is that just fall out from the booze? I’m sure there’s some depression, but I wonder about some of the mood swings. Maybe what I’m seeing aren’t that bad compared to the real deal. She had an opportunity to get evaluated for depression last year but turned it down. Too expensive she said. Co-pays were about 4x the cost of a GP doctor. I’m thinking that was a bargain. Heh. Hindsight.
Oh – there’s another potential topic for tonight’s meeting. So for, I have:
1 – The punishment I take after attending a meeting. Well, punishment in the form of attempted emotional torture (there’s that torture word again. Hmmmm) How do I stop it? If I can’t stop it, how else might I cope with it?
2 – Asking about manipulation in general and specifically about this past weeks event(s)
3 – Am I a hypocrite for enjoying a nice tasty beer myself (like once a week or so) while my A is still drinking actively? Not too worried about this one at the moment
4 – Should I quit if my A does?. Not too worried about this one at the moment either.
The new one
5 – If I know for certain she’s drunk (see above list of signs & symptoms), should I point out the fact that her attempted hiding the drinks isn’t working and call her bluff? Can I justify that as some sort of boundary setting, declining interaction with her when she’s “in the mood” (not THAT mood. That happens rarely enough as it is. I’d have to have a triple strength migraine before I turned that down. Hell, even bad sex is better than none at all. Mostly.) (TMI??) (Circe, I know, I know. You hush.)
Hmmm. We were supposed to go to S@ms Club last night and do a little long term stocking up on meat. That kinda got canceled due to the dicey travel conditions. Personally, I think it would have been great. No crowds. Best time possible to go. Wimps. Now I’m worried that she’s going to want to go tonight, when it’s 5 degrees out later. Derail my meeting, when I have so many good topics to discuss. Boy, she’s going to be really pissed after this one. Because I am going. To the meeting that is. Got to avoid that whole “ultimate coup” by the manipulator, right? She can do S@ms without me. Maybe drag poor Zach along.
Finished my power supply finally, now it’s off to transformers and maybe lasers. Real fun work. Especially the lasers. Dangerous too. These lasers have enough punch to ruin your eyes if you get careless. I should show you my special laser safety glasses. The folks over in the assemble area are waaaaay jealous of these things.
Meeting tonight, then gotta dodge the emotional darts for the next day or three. More fun, I know. Bet you’re all jealouos.
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