Vee and Me #MissVee is 3 months old now. It is hard to grasp how quickly these early weeks have flown by, but they have and now that we’re heading into month 4, my fitness goals move higher on my list of priorities.

It is time to take my body back.

At the zenith of my pregnancy, I hit my heaviest weight: 210lbs. Before pregnancy, my resting weight was around 150lbs, and before kids it was around 120lbs.

GOAL: I have set a goal for myself of 135-140lbs.

I feel better at that weight, I like the way I look better at that weight –I never want to be that sickly-thin 120lbs again — and after birthing four lovely children, it is time to take my body back. I turn 40 next year, and unless technology advances faster than I think it will, there’s no way to turn back the clock or slow down time.

I am not getting any younger.

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I am reasonably certain this is the mug that started the whole thing:

 

#mugtag

I am outing myself here, but I saw this mug at our local thrift shop a couple weeks ago and it screamed a certain friend’s name to me, so I bought it, wrapped it in tissue and dropped it off at her workplace for her to find.

 

Who DOESN’T need a cat mug with a wee mousie hiding inside?

 

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Last July, my brother died.

I haven’t written much about him because I didn’t have room to explore those feelings when stressed over my pregnancy. I had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and, sadly, grief can always wait. Since MissVee’s birth in February, they have been slowly coming to the surface.

My feelings take me by surprise — their ferocity takes my breath away.

I still can’t write about him. I’m not ready. Someday I will be ready, but that day is not today. That day won’t be tomorrow. I need more time to process the finality — the “goneness” — of his death and the impact it has on me.

What I can do is tell you a little story about some glasses.

These glasses:

These glasses have a story.

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20 years ago yesterday I had my first date with this guy:

Me and the Mister

Me and the Mister, Halloween 1995

We met when I misspelled his name and he flamed me —
love at first byte, and all that.

I was freshly 19, having had my birthday the month before, and we had been emailing each other for about 6 weeks. He worked at my university and I was a freshman. We met on a local newsgroup when I misspelled his name and he flamed me — love at first byte, and all that.

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