I'm going to get to the entry I wrote this afternoon at work ... really, I am ... but first, I must share my amazing experience of the last few days.
I'm doing this W8 Watching thing about six weeks now, and I have in fact lost about seven pounds. This is fine. It's not fabulous, but it's fine. Last week, as I may have mentioned, since I had time, I also took nice long walks a few times, and even did other kind of exercise (like situps, since mine are hardly crunches, and I don't like that word anyway) once or twice.
I lost two pounds since last week.
Holy Freaking Moley, Batman. This exercise thing I've always heard about ... it works?? You could knock me over with a feather. I mean really; I'm weak as a kitten and all sore now, because I did the exercise thing with stretchy tubes looped over a doorknob and everything after school today. I walked around the building this morning right after I got there, too, so that's 2 exercise points today, thank you.
Which would all be really swell if I didn't a) have dark circles under my eyes and look 100 years old, and, b) hadn't just put on a brand-new sleeveless t-shirt from Old Navy and realized that I had one of those clear plastic strips running down the front of my left boob, proclaiming for all the world (okay, two cats) to see: XL XL XL XL XL.
I get tons of junk mail at school because my name appears on all the library's magazine subscriptions. (Otherwise our weekly copy of People would end up anywhere else but the library, I think.) I get weird ads and catalogs, since we get a wide range of magazines, including educational journals, hockey and soccer magazines, wildlife and science stuff, and so on.
Today I got a brochure for a two-day business-related workshop with the best title I ever saw:
Communicating with Diplomacy & Tact (A Two Day Workshop)
Now there's something you can sink your teeth into. What I'm trying to decide is who, oh, who among my 135 or so colleagues on the teaching, administrative, and secretarial staff really deserves to have a collection taken up and be sent off on this little jaunt. Wait.
It's a no brainer. It's the Psycho. She wins! She has less diplomacy and tact than the average 12 year old boy, which is saying something, if you know middle-schoolers. She's mean, she's vindictive, she's hurtful ... she's ... The Psycho, she-who-must-not-be-named, and who rules the school with a psychotic iron fist.
Ah. Better now.
My new project is that I'm proofreading my nephew J1's masters thesis, the one he's had four years to write and is trying to finish in two weeks. I'm pretty amused by this, since I've been reviewing term papers with him since the 8th grade, and he took a couple of history classes here at the high school in which I taught the research process, so I know that he kind of learned how to do this from me. He's always been a good writer. But now that he's 30 and out of actual classwork for a few years, I think he's put a little too much distance between himself and your average comma. So the proofreading is a challenge. I keep emailing him with all the same things I told him 16 years ago -- is it that long? -- and all through high school: read your paper out loud to yourself and listen to see if it sounds right. Define your terms. Imagine that your reader knows nothing at all about your topic; lay out all the basics as if you're explaining it to a child.
The general topic of his paper, by the way, is the hippie movement of the 60s. That's not history, is it? It's not history if you lived through it. Right?
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I'm watching K of Q
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