So, I've been telling my body that I'm going to be making some changes around here, and I'm feeling a bit like it's not happy with this decision. We went out of town to visit some family this weekend, and there wasn't any exercising going on there. In spite of that, my legs are still killing me. My new shoes came in the mail, which is cool. They do fit better, and are quite comfortable. I'm going to get on the elliptical some time today, so I'll probably take them for a walk around tomorrow. Maybe.
There's this nifty little black bite on the back of my right leg. I just found it today because it was itching. It still itches. Interesting tidbit? There's no skin in the middle of the bite. I'm pretty sure that's not a good sign. I'm not sure what bit me, and I feel fine (other than being peeved off) so we'll wait and see what happens. If it gets bigger or worse, or if I start doing something super fun like throwing up, I'm going to have to take it to the doctor and she if he/she can figure out what the hell it is.
Speaking of puking, there's been a lot of that going on around here lately. We got back in to town late Sunday night, and just as we got all settled down, the husband and the menace both started....well....throwing up. They are better now, but we still don't know for sure what brought it on. Then, last night we awoke at 3:00 AM to the dulcet tones of our lab puking under our bed. Which is particularly bad because A.) He's been on a hunger strike most of the time since we left to go out of town. Apparently he didn't appreciate traveling and decided to let us know this by starving himself. (Just in case there's any confusion, he came with us. As did the other dog. And the cat with the urinary tract infection, since he still had to take his medicine every day. It was a friggin zoo in our little car). Oh, and B.) I gave him pureed pumpkin in his food yesterday to entice him to eat it. Which worked. Which resulted in neat-o orange dog puke. Under our bed. Awesome.
Now, in possibly the worst transition ever, I've been craving chocolate cake. Not regular out of a box chocolate cake. The kind you get in a restaurant with three layers, with chocolate ganache in the middle and on the top. The kind that curls your toes it's got so much chocolate in it. Yeah, that kind. I'd decided that I was going to get one slice of one of those on my birthday in a few weeks.
So, yesterday, at the awesome grocery store here in town, with the awesome bakery, they had an individual slice of this cake that I've been dreaming about for the last few weeks. It was large, and chocolaty. It had the requisite three layers and everything. I picked it up, and on a whim looked at the nutrition contents that were conveniently located on the bottom of the container (note - sarcasm). It was only one serving, and it had 37 grams of fat. Wait. What? 37? Seriously? That's not a typo? 37? What the hell is in it that it's got 37 grams of fat? Straight lard?
My chocolate cake craving vanished. I think I'll just have a chocolate cupcake on my birthday. Out of a box.
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