MY TINY WIFE PRECEDES ME

So, yeah, I’ve joined Weight Watchers. In fact, as you’re reading this, I’m sitting outside the meeting room, waiting to start my third meeting.

It’s Luscious’ doing, really. She joined some months ago, swallowed the pill without complaint, and has worked so hard she’s lost a fifth of her body weight and been approached to become a coach.

Faced with that sort of dedication and positive results, what chance did I have?

So, I’ve a fitbit on my wrist and my sneakers packed in my work bag, and all the crisps and choccie bars and pizzas and beer have been banished to the you’ve-had-your-share shelves. And I’m eating lunch at my desk and going for walks at lunch time, and generally just trying to follow in Luscious’ tiny, increasingly-light-on-the-ground footsteps.

I weighed 85 kilograms when I had my car accident, maybe a kilo heavier when Sharon died. What I weigh now is no longer the fault of those experiences. So, no more excuses, or justifications. Tackle the weight, and the pain and lifestyle will fall into line.

First week in I lost 2.6 kilograms, which felt like a good start but also gives you some indication of just how much I have to lose.

I’ll keep you abreast of how I go.

A MAN DOES GOOD BUSINESS WHEN HE RIDS HIMSELF OF A TURD

So, the hideous carbuncle that was Unca Jugears has been deposed. And, to date, he’s managed to take pet rocks Peter Dutton and Joe Hockey down with him.

It’s a start. But don’t let the elevation of Shitslick Turnbull fool anybody: the policies remain, the right-wing conservatism and disdain for social and cultural advancement remain, the contempt for the vast majority of the electorate remains. That they have a more appealing sales rep just makes the Liberal machine that much more dangerous.

Bill Shorten was a non-entity for a time of despair, but we can no longer content ourselves in watching ghosts fighting ghosts.

The Liberal machine remains as vile as it ever was. The Labor machine still has no wheels, no fuel, and no gears. More than ever, your vote will count, come the next election.

Just because a turd has been polished, doesn’t stop it from being a turd.

NO SKOOL LIKE THE OLD SKOOL

Life’s settled down a piece in the last week or so– the display for Bricktober has been packed into boxes ready to transport; I’ve stopped compulsively building just-one-more-Viper for the show; General Janvier has been edited and sent out into the wild; and I’ve started to turn my attention back to novels, and specifically, the search for an agent to represent Father Muerte and the Divine.

Hopefully, that means I’ll have a moment or two spare to update the blog on a more regular basis. Hopefully. But, in the meantime, I’ve guest-posted over at Andrew McKiernan’s place on the tools I use to write, and it’s made me realise: somehow, I’ve become old-fashioned!

Says the guy who’s remained with Blogger for going on 14 years……