In like a Lion?

Roar.

I wish I felt that tenacious. Unfortunately, with the amazingly wet weather, budgetary snafus, procrastination, lack of planning, and, joy of joys, allergy season I have been feeling less like my normal self.  Currently, my head feels like it is seven times its normal size, my joints are achy, and my toes are cold. (Sephora by OPI GLEE Collection in Slushied, a blue, bien sur, on those cold toes.) Luckily, I feel better than I have in days since the introduction of ZICAM into my allergy repertoire, lovingly donated by Mr. Resha after I babysat his boys Friday night. The allergy swabs are the best out of the collection, but I've been dosing up on the immune essentials and throat/cough spray as well. Definitely an improvement.

I visited the Husband in Canada a few weeks ago. The visit was way too short, and every time I go it gets harder and harder to actually leave. Which brings me to a topic that is necessary to discuss, but not one that I want to broach. Let me begin by saying that I am thankful for all the prayers and all the worry that everyone is doing on our behalf. Those thoughts are a daily reminder of how much the Husband and I are loved and how much everyone wants us to be together. However, (and this is the tricky part) I am frustrated with being asked how the immigration process is moving. Every time I get asked all it does is bring up more anger, bitterness, and sadness.  Seriously, I do enough crying on my own time, I don't want to ruin somebody else's day by not being able to control the waterworks. When something changes in the process, rest assured that I will be proclaiming it from the housetops. It will be viral. Seriously. You won't be able to get me to shut up. I will be so excited I will probably be dancing everywhere I go. But, until that day, please let me bury the emotions that make it ever harder for me to get by day to day. Life alone is stressful enough, but being unwillingly separated from your spouse is not only heartbreaking, but depressing. I thank you all in advance for your consideration of my feelings.

With so much that is uncontrollable in my life, I am lucky if I eat one healthy meal from my new eating plan a day. This is where my lack of preparation comes in. If I spent the time to actually put together some lunches I bet I would do much better. My energy level hasn't been that high of late and because of it I don't get off my booty at night to put together food, nor do I have the time to do it in the mornings. The energy has nothing to do with the good food choices, only the other stressors that affect my bad food choices. I am one of the worst emotional eaters ever.  I eat when I'm happy and I eat when I'm sad. And I'm not talking yummy good for me things, I'm talking chocolate, cookies, cake, fattening crackers (oh, lord, Cheez-Its),  and all in HUGE, unnecessary portions, constantly during the day. My horrible habit of mastication has brought back a memory from high school where a group of friends would frequent the local IHOP restaurant until ungodly hours. (Waffle House was where all the hipsters hung out, and we don't roll with hipsters.) Since I was the only non-smoker in the smoking section I would request extra straws from our waitress, and chew them until they were small, tight balls of plastic. Disgusting, yes. But, better than smoking myself or eating plates of fries covered in ketchup. (Though, I did that occasionally, too.) I am not saying that I should take up the straw-chewing habit again, not exactly professional or healthy, but better than ho-ho's and McDonalds.

In closing, I want to assure you, dear readers, that I am hoping that March will go out like a lamb, at least in my life, so that I will get that next step Closer to Fine.

(Stay Tuned for Eating Plan Update later this week.)