As I write this Labor Day, I am aghast at how long it’s been since I’ve visited my blog. I am also incredibly relieved that summer has pretty much passed. Being a pale, moderate weather loving woman with summer allergies, I am usually forced to spend much of late-May through August indoors.

That pretty much blows.

At least I had plenty to do this summer. I managed to teach a course; work myself silly; travel to St. Louis, Boston, Spearfish, Michigan with the DPI ladies; and plant a garden. The course went well, but the garden only yielded giant zucchinis, a couple tomatoes, and a shitload of weeds. McFad and I are so ashamed of the garden plot that we’re planning on visiting it in the cover of nightfall next time. It’s been about a month since the last time we checked it out, so I am sure our neighbors aren’t exactly pleased with us.

And this brings me to the title of this post. I stepped on the scale for the first time since April today, and lo and behold, I am back to 163 pounds. This is a familiar weight for me. Whenever I stop exercising regularly and start eating want I want, this is where my body wants to hover. My stout broad-shouldered German/Polish genes have kicked in as the extra pudge has gathered around my upper arms, belly, and thighs. Early in my twenties, I would have freaked out at this news. Now, I kind of shrug and understand that I have accomplished a helluva lot this summer and a little weight gain isn’t the worst thing in the world. I will eat a little better, exercise more, and enjoy my favorite season of the year. It’s all good.


About Restless Cube Dweller

Most of my adult life has been defined finding homes in unconventional places, and learning to interact positively with others. I've lived in the middle of nowhere, in small cities, in large cities, in the suburbs, and now in Dubuque, Iowa. This blog represents my musings about growing up, moving on, finding love, and eating well in the suburbs and beyond.
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