Elvira has to go

[caption id="attachment_472170" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Daniel Evans, you so crazy."][/caption]

One of the many things I love about my job is what I call the Ohno “benefits package.”

We get hand-me-down toys and such for our kids. We get to play musical “Name That Year” during the day.

We might even close up shop early some days for deep thoughts over a sip of fine beer.

But one of the best parts is when they cook for us. Breakfast some days, lunch many days.

This week, Elvira has been cooking for us during her visit. Elvira is boss Michael’s German mom.

Elvira’s visit couldn’t have come during a worse time – my “get back to it” time.

Not that I don’t appreciate every delicious morsel she’s cooked. I do. Greatly.

But I stepped on the scale this morning, and it’s not heading the direction it should be. Even Michael mentioned that he’s gained 4 pounds since she’s been here.

So, Elvira, I love you. But my rump is glad you visit only a couple of times a year.

Speaking of my rump: I took this picture of the gym wall after kickboxing class last night.

If what it says is true, I still have an incredible amount of weakness in my body – probably trapped in my fat rolls.

I hurt in my arms and my legs. And my stomach. And my ass. And my hair.

TGIF, eh?

Bull!

[caption id="attachment_472165" align="alignright" width="300" caption="BOGO bull ride. Score."][/caption]

After I debuted the site yesterday, Memphis friend Kristina asked via Facebook what will be the next item I mark off my Bucket List.

Probably riding a mechanical bull, I answered.

In no time, I got a text with this photo from Kalamazoo friend Penny, saying this Wild Bull coupon is for me when I'm ready to head to the west side of Michigan.

I'm a sucker for a road trip. Even bigger sucker for a coupon.

So sometime between now and the coupon expiration date of March 1, 2011, I'm coming for you, El Guapo.

Prepare to meet your maker.

I've moved!

Thanks for stopping by. You can find my new home here.

Back at it

[caption id="attachment_472155" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Kristy feels strong after our workout. I’m trying not to fall over on her."][/caption]

Welcome to my new home, still officially “Misty Is Losing it” but informally “Misty 2: Electric Boogaloo.”

I’m excited to have an entire site dedicated to my pursuits. Feel free to look around. I have lots of ideas for the site but little time, so have patience with me.

Eventually you’ll see pages for recipes, grocery products, advice for dining out and more. Maybe even a spot devoted for “before and after” pictures, though I’m still a ways off from that.

So, where exactly am I?

Well, after a few months of debauchery and an overall lack of healthy effort, I’m surprised and happy to report that I have kept off a total of 35 pounds.

Not too shabby, but I’ve got a long way to go. So, I’m back at it.

Last night, I hit the gym for the first time in way longer than I care to admit. With me was my longtime Michigan pal Kristy, who started back to her own workout routine last week.

We went to kickboxing class. I almost died.

At one point giving me the advice to breathe through my nose, Kristy then followed up with “Don’t pass out, and don’t throw up!”

Maybe my face changing to unnatural colors was disconcerting?

At the end of class during ab work, I was lying in my own sweat pool when I actually said the words, “Kristy, I’m just gonna have to live here. Go. Save yourself.”

I somehow survived, and I was back on the treadmill for 2 miles this morning.

And so my journey continues. So glad you’re here.

I still need my Momma

I miss Momma today.

I was just reading my friend Nancy's blog post about the start to her weekend with her daughter, and it brought up sweet memories of Momma for me.

Nancy and her college-



aged daughter have a lot of similarities to me and my mom, most notably that it's always been just the two of them — just like me and Momma.

It made me wish my mom isn't nearly 600 miles away and instead I could be spending this gloomy, rainy Saturday cuddled in the bed with her.

I wish I had lots and lots of warm memories of growing up with Momma, but there are few.

Not that we don't love each other greatly. We do. It's just that she worked 2-3 jobs during my entire childhood, so the time she was home, she was usually sleeping.

And I was usually curled up next to her.

I'd watch her sleep and remember thinking how pretty she looked. She never took off her makeup before she'd fall asleep, so I'd study the shimmers of her green glittery eyeshadow and the beautiful symmetry of her wet black eyeliner — top lid only.

And when I couldn't sleep, she'd trace a gentle trail all over my face with her fingertips — above my eye, below my nose, a circle around my mouth — many times never opening her eyes herself. Her exhausted fingers knew the way.

Now, I close my eyes when I'm caressing my son's face at bedtime sometimes and remember.

Yes, there are few memories, but the ones I cling to are so special, like on our drives to visit Grandma and Granddaddy 2.5 hours away.

We'd laugh and sing along to the radio at the top of our lungs. Momma would always try to do harmony, but it never really worked since we were both natural altos.

When it would get dark, she'd let me crawl into her lap and steer the car down the parkway, sometimes for an hour or more. (Nobody worried about seat belts back then.)

Sometimes, I'd just hand the wheel back over to her and crawl down to put my head on her lap as we quietly marked off the miles.

No laughter, no singing, no radio.

Just her one hand on the wheel and the other tracing that gentle, familiar trail with her fingertips, over my eye, under my nose …

Well hello there

Do you need me as much as I need you?

I haven't written a single thing in a month, yet at least 20 of you still stop by each day to see if I've written.

So, I suspect you do need me. And that's good. I like feeling needed.

And it's mutual.

I thank all of you who have written just to make sure I'm OK.

I am. I just needed a break. From everything.

So many of you have told me how strong you think I am, but the truth is, I'm not. I'm weak, and sometimes getting through life is hard for me.

But I know it's hard for many of you, too, and that's why I want to let you know I'm still here.

I am going to start writing again, and I even have a new, actual website that I'll be revealing soon.

I'm still here.

Are you?

I still need my Momma

Momma and me.

Editor's note: I know I should be posting this random rambling on my new website, but I don't know how yet. So here ya go.

I miss Momma today.

I was just reading my friend Nancy's blog post about the start to her weekend with her daughter, and it brought up sweet memories of Momma for me. 

Nancy and her college-aged daughter have a lot of similarities to me and my mom, most notably that it's always been just the two of them — just like me and Momma. 

It made me wish my mom isn't nearly 600 miles away and instead I could be spending this gloomy, rainy Saturday cuddled in the bed with her.

I wish I had lots and lots of warm memories of growing up with Momma, but there are few. 

Not that we don't love each other greatly. We do. It's just that she worked 2-3 jobs during my entire childhood, so the time she was home, she was usually sleeping.

And I was usually curled up next to her.

I'd watch her sleep and remember thinking how pretty she looked. She never took off her makeup before she'd fall asleep, so I'd study the shimmers of her green glittery eyeshadow and the beautiful symmetry of her wet black eyeliner — top lid only.

And when I couldn't sleep, she'd trace a gentle trail all over my face with her fingertips — above my eye, below my nose, a circle around my mouth — many times never opening her eyes herself. Her exhausted fingers knew the way.

Now, I close my eyes when I'm caressing my son's face at bedtime sometimes and remember.

Yes, there are few memories, but the ones I cling to are so special, like on our drives to visit Grandma and Granddaddy 2.5 hours away. 

We'd laugh and sing along to the radio at the top of our lungs. Momma would always try to do harmony, but it never really worked since we were both natural altos.

When it would get dark, she'd let me crawl into her lap and steer the car down the parkway, sometimes for an hour or more. (Nobody worried about seat belts back then.) 

Sometimes, I'd just hand the wheel back over to her and crawl down to put my head on her lap as we quietly marked off the miles.

No laughter, no singing, no radio.

Just her one hand on the wheel and the other tracing that gentle, familiar trail with her fingertips, over my eye, under my nose … .

Well, hello there

My cute boy. My world.
He turned 2 recently.

Do you need me as much as I need you?

I haven't written a single thing in a month, yet at least 20 of you still stop by each day to see if I've written.

So, I suspect you do need me. And that's good. I like feeling needed.

And it's mutual. 

I thank all of you who have written just to make sure I'm OK. 

I am. I just needed a break. From everything.

So many of you have told me how strong you think I am, but the truth is, I'm not. I'm weak, and sometimes getting through life is hard for me.

But I know it's hard for many of you, too, and that's why I want to let you know I'm still here.

I am going to start writing again, and I even have a new, actual website that I'll be revealing soon.

I'm still here.

Are you?