Wow! Against all odds and all the myriad forces of heredity--my cholesterol is DROPPING. It's down to 208, 11 points down from last year, and my bad cholesterol has dropped 25 points, and is closing in on normal.
I was all resigned to go on Zocor--with my family history, I just assumed there was no hope at all--but evidentally I'm not all that many points from normal, so the doctor recommended a few pills and to keep doing whatever I'm doing.
...which would be great, if I had any idea what I'm doing. I'm still eating bacon and eggs every morning. I'm still subsisting on fast food and James's rib-sticking put-hair-on-your-chest why-not-add-a-little-more-cream cuisine. The only things that have changed in my diet is the addition of toast (and not wheat toast, either) and the subtraction of my 5-coke-a-day habit down to 2-or-3-cokes-a-week. I am willing to believe that the loss of Coke made a radical difference, mind you. And about once a week I manage to walk a mile. Sometimes.
Against all odds, for a generally sedentary woman, who can see middle age looming on the horizon like a distant mountain range, who couldn't diet if a gun was held to her head, I am pretty healthy. I need to lose ten or fifteen pounds, and I could desperately use some actual muscle tone, but...dude, my cholesterol's going down. Nobody in my family EVER has their cholesterol go down.
Today was staggeringly unproductive.
I spent hours trying to come up with a painting layout, going through my archive of bird photos and scenery, waiting for lightning to strike...nothin'. Finally bit the bullet, told myself sternly to quit dithering, and started a painting, flung myself at it with teeth and toenails and...swing and a miss. I shouldn't have added a background, the figure was a good little study, but the background ate it for lunch.
On the bright side, the grackles discovered the feeder today. For most people, that's probably NOT a bright side, but I got some good grackle photos, and I have always had a soft spot for that generally unappreciated bird--unlike, say, starlings, which should be exterminated ruthlessly and with extreme prejudice.
Tomorrow will be better. Homily, homily, etc. If I could paint effortlessly every day, I'd...um...well, shit, I'd paint effortlessly every day is what. Not sure where I was going with that one.
Eh, some days you get the bear...
Finally rented "House of Flying Daggers."
After it was over, I turned to James and said "My god. That was a wushu chick flick."
Pretty movie, some lovely costuming, and in another life, I sure wouldn't kick the hero out of bed*, but... man, with all those slow-mo scenes and long shots of tiny figures walking slowly through epic scenery, they could have put in another battle.
For example, the one that the WHOLE MOVIE WAS LEADING UP TO, say.
Not bad, that complaint aside, but slow. Lovely, lovely to look at, though. Not as visually impressive--or as unstintingly paced!--as "Hero," didn't have the sheer epic tear-jerking scale of "Crouching Tiger," or the good-natured silliness of "Iron Monkey."
And of course, it ain't wushu unless everybody dies.
*On of the great signs that you've slowed down is when you reach a point in your existence where finding a handsome young Chinese hero in your bed would be a bad thing.