The Miracle of Oatmeal

I didn't swim this week, so I can't give you any great swimming stories. From the sounds of things, I may need to be saving my energy for Saturday morning when Kristy has all of us scheduled to do a private lesson with Mike the Marlin. I have several mixed emotions on that one. First, the male ego tells me that I'm making progress just fine and I don't need help. Next, the more rational side of me jumps in and says, "are you kidding? You're the worst swimmer on the planet and anything would be an improvement." Then the lazy side passively comments that it would sure be nice to sleep in instead. The good husband side says, Jen could probably use a break from watching Matthew for the last four days, so you should probably stay home and help out. The lazy side cheers... sort of. The sissy side notes that drowning is definitely a possibility, the weather inside the bubble may be a bit nasty, and that it would certainly be embarrassing if my little sister were already a better swimmer. The social side comments in a very quiet voice that maybe I should spend that time with family, but then it gets confused because family will be in both places and shuts up again. Penultimately, the practical side of me interrupts the conversation by noting that a lot needs to be done on Saturday morning in preparation for the main event, and that I shouldn't take the time to go play in a pool. And last but not least, the humorous side of me desperately wants to be there to witness Jary's first "swim." That side may win.

As for the comment in the title about the oatmeal, my biggest success of the week is that I’m currently wearing a pair of pants that I haven’t been able to fit into since the first few months of coming to Houston. Comfortably I might add. The wonders of oatmeal every morning, combined with routine self-inflicted near-death experiences at the gym, does wonders for the body. All in all, I think I’m officially down 10 pounds since February. Not too shabby.

I’ll see you all on Saturday.