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Still on the Warpath: Naiadknight's Battle Tome

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  • Meat & cheese roll-ups with mustard are the best
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    • Dinner was actually corn dogs. 2 corn dogs later, I was full, and under caloric and all other goals.
      Ankle is actually a bad sprain and chronic inflammation.
      I think I'm going to try to accept my set weight as 128. My body seems to not want to go outside of that more than 5 lb either direction without heavy changes in activity or diet, and even then it doesn't stick around.
      Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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      • Whatever was wrong with my ankle seems mostly gone now. I was able to mow, weed eat, and edge the front yard, as well as sweep the sidewalks and front patio and take out the front door and garage trash without any real pain. I forgot to put anything back on my ankle, too.
        Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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        • Ok, back to the grind. We won't mention the debauchery of the visit home. Well, except to note that the one family party I didn't drink wine at was the only one I didn't get a nasty killer migraine hangover from ever.
          I'm waffling on doing some DIY redecorating to take this place from "Yay, we're out of college!" to "damn, this place looks good." The three big things would be dyeing the towels, reupholstering the couches, non matching computer chair, couch pillows and futon, and changing out the shower curtain. I also want to restain the dressers and night stands to match the bookshelves, change out the curtains, replace the collapse-a- hamper, paint the legs on the stool, change out the comforter, and use fabric bins to organize and hide the crap on the baker's racks, but those aren't as critical. I still need to figure out a method for dealing with the mail counter that works. The inbox failed miserably. I wonder if fabric buckets would work there too.
          Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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          • I've been feeling like homemaking since we moved. The new space just feels more permanent to me, even if we might not live here more than a year. I'm still using unframed posters for wall decor, frames are too pricey and putting holes in the walls makes me nervous.
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            • Honestly, what I'd love to do is replace the El cheapo kitchen appliances with good stuff. The crappy white faced stuff functions still, though, so I can't justify replacing them. Except maybe the stove. I'm really itching to replace the electric piece with a gas range/ electric oven model. Maybe not a Viking (repair hungry critters) but another semi professional grade one. I hate cooking on electric.
              Yesterday was primal, if a little nut heavy. Well, except the peanuts and wing sauce. Nuts and coffee for breakfast, leftover steak and pepper poppers for lunch, wings and cut veggies for dinner.
              Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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              • How is the allergy stuff going lately?
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                • I think I've determined that if I avoid wine, vinegar, molasses, restaurant potatoes, fermented foods, and any sauce that wasn't homemade, I'm generally ok. Cheese is a spectrum I'm still exploring. Soy seems to be out, except for small doses of tamari. Oddly enough, homemade or sour breads seem not to bother me (no dough conditioners). Still haven't explored sprouted grains. All meat and veggies seem ok, except raw onion, which I don't care for anyways.
                  Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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                  • TMI warning
                    I truly hate being female some days. Was in pain most of last night and have had the other signs indicating I'm starting some time today. I've also been on an organization and cleaning spree all week, which is another cue that Shark Week is imminent. I'm itching to do a full closet purge, including jewelry, coats, winter stuff, and accessories and get that bitch organized. Same goes for the baker's racks and mail counter.
                    Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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                    • My car lost in a battle against a pick up with a steel oilfield bumper. Cycling to work just became a viable option.
                      Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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                      • *possible trigger re: depression:*
                        The wreck this afternoon has me feeling depressed. Not the sad, crying version. The mopey, feeling useless, defeated, and piss poor self esteem version. THe part that whispers to the suicide beast "you could be right." I feel subhuman. I feel like scum. I feel more useless than pond scum. I didn't harm anything besides my car and my pride and possibly my insurance rates, but I still feel horrible. I'm trying t work around and ignore the rationalizing in my head that says it's not ok to feel this or get it out of my system. I'm anxious and have no desire to drive for a while, not that I have that luxury.
                        Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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                        • So sorry about the accident. It is normal to have a ptsd type reaction after something like that. It is so easy for me to slip into self hatred mode any time I make a mistake big or small. When I hit the deer with my new car last winter, I tortured myself for days with negative self talk. I hope you can gain some perspective on it quickly. {{{Hugs}}}
                          Primal since 9/24/2010
                          "Our greatest foes, and whom we must chiefly combat, are within." Miguel de Cervantes

                          Created by MyFitnessPal.com - Free Weight Loss Tools
                          MFP username: MDAPebbles67

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                          • I've honestly thought for a while now that steel, squared off bumpers should not be road legal. Not the kind that comes with older trucks, but the kind that people buy after market. Obviously, they are, so now my car is undriveable while his might have a smear of my paint job on the steel.
                            I took a full muscle relaxer last night, in an effort to make myself sleep and not continuously loop the event and damage over and over in my head. At least with the wreck at the City, it wasn't my fault. This one, I have no one to blame but myself. I rear ended him and hurt my car.
                            To add insult to injury, Geek goes out of town this week, Tuesday night through Thursday night. I might try to make a recipe I know he won't touch one of those days.
                            The Bears are losing to Cincinnatti, too.
                            Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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                            • Originally posted by Pebbles67 View Post
                              So sorry about the accident. It is normal to have a ptsd type reaction after something like that. It is so easy for me to slip into self hatred mode any time I make a mistake big or small. When I hit the deer with my new car last winter, I tortured myself for days with negative self talk. I hope you can gain some perspective on it quickly. {{{Hugs}}}
                              I've gained some, all of it negative. Still waiting for some of the positivity, but the Sunshine Annie in my head appears to be sleep on the job.
                              Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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                              • Back at work. My mood has improved somewhat.
                                We're going to the local fair tonight. I'm trying to plan ahead on food, but my memory is failing me. I seem to recall turkey legs being safe. I think there may have been barbacoa and fajita shacks. I may splurge on a corn dog, but probably not. Drinks will be difficult.
                                Having coffee with cream for breakfast.
                                *TMI* I had one of those shits that make your pants fit better earlier. I physically feel lighter. I've been waiting for that one for a few days now.
                                Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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