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an end to sloth and indolence

Well, indolence, anyway. Tomorrow it's back to the tax mines for me, and on Saturday the spring semester at NoVa starts. I have a somewhat grandiose essay on last year's win and fail, and what I need to do to secure more win and less fail as I move toward my several goals, and I'm going to post that tomorrow after work, I think.

One of those things is making a more consistent effort to get to Mass at Holy Trinity more often. I didn't make it there today, partially because my sleep cycle got badly screwed up over this past week, but I did at least make it to the Ukrainian Catholic National Shrine, which is not too far from the VA and right down the block from the Latin Rite Basilica of the National Shrine, which both my parents were enthusiastic patrons of, even after they couldn't make it to Mass there any more. Anyhow, the UCNS is a humongous structure on the outside, but seems more cozy and not so barn-like on the inside. Maybe it's the gigantic icon of the Blessed Mother and her Son on the ceiling over the iconostasis and altar. I suspect that I'll be stopping in for Mass more often there as the business in the tax mines approaches April 15, since it's half as far away as Holy Trinity, but we shall see.

Speaking of sloth, or more accurately of gluttony, I've been slacking off on the diet lately and unsurprisingly have put on weight - weighed in this morning at 362.8, for those of you scoring at home. December is the first month that I didn't lose weight since going hardcore on the low-carb trip, and it's purely due to not watching what I eat in terms of quantity. Well, tomorrow I am back to work, and will have more structure in my life, and that will make it easier to stay on the diet horse. Also, walking up and down Jordan Street to Foxchase will help flog the metabolism along with doing the legs some good.

The legs are improving. The left leg's wound is almost completely healed, and the right leg is coming along nicely, in spite of the whinging by one of the residents I saw this past Thursday at the VA. Said resident wanted to send me home with a Profore bandage and got snippy when I demurred on the grounds that I had to work and stumping around with clown shoes was not going to fly in the tax office. I told her I was going to stick with the Ace wraps and compression sleeves; we'll see who's right when I come back in six weeks.

Well, time for me to hit the rack. 0700 comes damned early in these parts, and I need to be in the office at 0900.


Jan. 3rd, 2011 11:07 pm (UTC)
on the legs, the resident is undoubtedly correct for someone eating a normal american poison-filled slow-suicide diet - but YOU are not on that trajectory, so you will surprise them upon your return.... they will give credit to anything in the UNIVERSE other than your diet of course; everyone KNOWS that not eating carbs is horribly bad for you....

always keep in mind when dealing with medical folks, they see a blur of people constantly; they are unlikely to appreciate that in you they are dealing with someone who is operating differently from literally every one of their other patients.....

by the way, you should start pushing for a set of COMPLETE blood work - melissa and i can advise what we mean by complete - its different from what most med folks will order and there are a few "why would you want that?" tests on it. different magic needs different information :-)


Jan. 3rd, 2011 11:53 pm (UTC)
What's really annoying about this particular resident is that I don't think she even bothered to so much as flip through my medical records to see what was up before making her little pronunciamento. It would be like you driving your truck to the dealer and having a new mechanic say, without looking at the maintenance records, that it needed a transmission overhaul.



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