It's now a little after 10 AM. I've been awake for over 24 hours. And I'm not even sleepy.
This is not a good thing. I'm apt to crash and burn sometime later today.
It's also rainy today. This is NOT a good thing. Rain = achy when you've got fibromyalgia.
The fibro is probably to blame for the non-sleepery, too.
This flare-up, which started the end of December, is one of the worst ones I've had in years. Every time I think it might be releasing its hold, it grips me again.
Now I think I'll go finish Tanya Huff's book, "Blood Price" and listen to ESPN. They're talking about KU's whuppin' of Texas Tech. Those Jayhawks knocked the crap outta the Red Raiders by a score of 109-51. Whew.
WHOA! Now they're talking about Brett Favre's decision to retire. Gosh. Oh gosh. There are people who retire from football after a couple of seasons; there are people you can't imagine ever retiring. Favre is one of the latter. I will miss watching him play.
There's a very interesting article in this month's "Prevention" magazine. Apparently, exercising for an hour without stopping is LESS effective for getting rid of fat than exercising for half an hour, stopping for twenty minutes, then working out for another half hour. Granted, the type of exercise is specifically cycling, but it seems to hold true for non-cycling exercise as well, given the rest of the article and the fact the pictures accompanying it are not of cyclists but of aerobics worker-outers. And here it is, in its entirety:
"Exercisers who rested for 20 minutes halfway through an hour-long cycling session burned over 20% more fat than those who did an hour straight, reports a University of Tokyo study. A mid-workout pause appears to cause fat-burning hormones to function more effectively, say study authors. TRY THIS: Begin exercising when you get home; then prepare dinner and finish your workout as it cooks. If a 20-minute break isn't convenient, a longer one works too; researchers speculate the benefits will be similar."
Oddly enough, some of this is the opposite of what most sources say about Taurus. And while I might be stubborn (I prefer to call it "determined") I refuse to believe that I'm "hard-hearted." And how can you be both "hard-hearted" and "love(s) to help people in times of need"? I'm actually gonna guess that the "hard-hearted" was intended to be "hard-headed" and, y'know, I'll go along with that. (We don't need to discuss the ridiculousness of saying that I'm "beautiful." *snorts*)
*sigh*
I do NOT wish to think about the Washington-Tampa Bay game. I'm too depressed for words.
It does not help a bit that I cannot shake whatever respiratory crud I've caught. Just when I think I might be getting over it, it morphs into something even worse. Right now I have no voice and a terrible wheeze. It's possible that I might have to give in and see the doctor.
He told me that my torn tendon was better but not 100%. He told me to NOT push myself but to baby the foot.
I reminded him that I have fibromyalgia. If I don't push myself, I won't get out of bed. I spent several years giving in to the fibro and I am just NOT going to do that. We compromised. I won't push as hard as I want to and he won't insist on my wearing the boot and living on my back with my foot elevated above my heart. *sigh*
They also did another therapy session. This therapy tickles and then feels good. Unfortunately, it also involves a cortisone-laced gel. Diabetes + cortisone = elevated blood sugar. Blech.
* * * *
Today Jim and I had lunch together at an "Irish Pub" (quotation marks definitely intentional!) here in downtown Winston-Salem. It's a nice little place called "Finnegan's Wake." It's in a restored storefront in the arts district. I had a really yummy veggie burger with some sinus-clearing whole grain mustard, tomato, lettuce, and onion. I had some sauteed yellow squash, zucchini, and red peppers on the side. Also four or five tall glasses of water. Jim had the same thing except his burger was beef with cheese and his drink was tea. Then he had a peanut-butter cheesecake with chocolate sauce for dessert. He tried to get me to have one, too, but (a) I'm diabetic and have to watch my sugar, (b) the aforementioned cortisone has been a problem with my blood sugar, and (c) my WW weigh-in is tomorrow. So he tried giving me a spoonful. He offered me a HUGE spoonful. I declined, saying it was too much. Then he offered me a smaller spoonful. I declined: too big. So I finally got him to give me both the spoon and the dessert and I took an eeensy bit of peanut butter cheesecake and an eeensy bit of chocolate sauce. It was quite enough. It was yummy, true, but that tiny little taste was all I wanted.
* * * *
It's too hot to move. Too hot to breathe hard. Definitely too hot to walk outside. Blech.
WIDE awake, honey!