Just one of the many reasons I love this man; he brings me flowers when I’m sick.

I think one of the reasons I feel like I’m on this blog more than I am, is that I’m here daily updating “Dear Jillian.” It’s not much; somedays that’s all I’ve got.

I wish I could say the 30 day shred is going gloriously well. But, it’s not. I came to terms a while ago with the fact that I lose weight slowly. And that I’m piteously out of shape. But it’s come as a cold shock to discover that I’m not the graceful ballerina who pirouettes effortlessly in my head. Color me delusional.  In fact, I’m kinda clumsy. It’s embarrassing. It’s “sad girl tries out for So You Think You Can Dance” cringe-worthy embarrassing.

Good thing I work out alone in my living room. Although, I still don’t understand why my desk dancing at my computer doesn’t yield more results.

Anyhow, I feel like this part of my life is just an endless treadmill. You get up, you get down, and you try it again. And I can’t help but hear the Hives, “Doo Wacko! They say the definition of madness is doing the same thing and expecting a different result.”  Exercise has to be the exception to the bon mot. Right?

It better be!


I wrote this piece last week right before I succumbed to this ridiculous head cold. I’ve been too out of it since then to even contemplate publishing it—my luck, I would have erased my entire blog due to my cold-medicine haze. To avoid such a catastrophe, I waited until today to post it.

I’m slowly coming around and  I think I’ll be back in the groove of things in another day or so. Until then, I’ll be on the couch watching re-runs of “Everybody Loves Raymond” because I’ve run out of library books. Shh, don’t tell Jillian.