Echoes from far away.

So, I'm here. I made it. After 12 hours of traveling, a stay in the swankiest hotel room I've ever been in, six gas station stops (at half a tank each go), and a couple of lovely rest area stops, I'm in my Master's house in Florida, doing and having done the things to me that I enjoy most.

Leaving wasn't so hard. W. didn't cry as we said goodbye, and neither did I, though I thought I might. He did say later that he teared up a little as I drove away, but I haven't really felt the sting yet. There are a few things that I realize I miss: 1) Being in bed with him, and 2) Our quiet little apartment that very rarely saw company, unlike this place and its 'colorful' variety of loud, messy vagrants. (We are moving as soon as possible, right, Master?)

It's dawned on me that I have no real "me" food at this house. That makes sense; they didn't exactly stock the fridge with me in mind as I had back with W. My Master said he would call at lunch, though, so maybe then I can tell him that I'm going to take a quick trip to the local grocery store and pick up a few things. Bagel Bites, Goldfish, things like that. I'll probably have to look around the store and remember, since I'm more used to restocking than starting from point zero in the pantry.

My last week here has been exceptionally busy as I've done this, that, the other, and some more of this and that in order to prepare for going away. Boxes have been packed, cleaning has been done, and good times have been had. Yesterday W. and I went mini golfing and I had my first ever scoop of Amy's Ice Cream. We also dropped off donations at Goodwill.

Today's agenda involves doing my laundry (going to fold and pack it right after this), taking items to the post office (books I've sold on Amazon), selling more books at Half Price Books, then coming back home and getting dressed up all nice to have dinner at Olive Garden. We're also going to watch Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me and possibly some of the Whose Line Is It Anyway? DVDs that W. so miraculously spotted and then purchased for me at Book People! We were originally there to buy more of my favorite 'Milk' soap, but they didn't have any. I settled for a bar of Apple Pear instead, but will probably look online later for my favorite sometime in the future.

Laundry awaits!

It's been 13 days since my last (very random) entry, and only four days until my big move to Florida to be with my Master. (How exciting!) I figure I should, well, say something by now. Give an update, no matter how small. That sort of thing. After all, "update my blog more often" is on my 43 Things list.

First of all: I got my car fixed. The bills and everything got straightened out and in a week's time my car was back to being mine all mine. I was worried for a bit that the bill wouldn't match the check my insurance company was going to pay out, but it all eventually balanced out so that all I had to pay was my $500.00 deductible. Although $500.00 is a lot, it's not nearly as much as the $1,900.00 or so bill that I would have had to tackle. As destructive and ungrateful as I am sometimes, even I know when to count a blessing.

Four days until Florida. Wow. Where does the time go? W. and I have Simpsons DVDs to watch before I leave, I have more packing and sorting to do, I want to try on things and give away what doesn't fit/things I don't want to Goodwill, we want to go mini-golfing and get his car cleaned up, I need to get my car looked at... It feels like I've got a mountain to climb before I even hit the road!

I plan on leaving at 8:00 am on Friday and hitting Baton Rouge at about 6:00 pm. The weather forecast provided by the hotel I'm going to says that it will be raining all week. I don't really wish for it not to; just that it doesn't rain enough to make traveling rough. After waiting so long and going through so much, I don't want to die on the way to finally being with my Master again.

The other day I saw one of those ladies that frustrates me so much— A platinum blonde with twiggy legs. I hate twiggy legs. They make me think that my shapely limbs are thunder thighs, but I know they're not. Well, okay, they may be. Sort of. But, I mean, I don't think my thighs should be so thin that they don't touch, like this girl's. The fact that they looked about as thick as her calves was a bit disturbing, too. Mostly, though, she just made me feel fat, and I hate that when I'm trying so hard.

I don't really have time to write. It's bedtime and I need the sleep. I woke up early this morning to drop my car off to have it repaired and was once again frustrated by the whole insurance process. Person A wants the number of Person B to discuss C, D, and E, and so on, and so on. I should have made lunches for tomorrow already, but once again I'm going to just do it in the morning. Because I'm tired.

I did think of this, though (which is why I'm writing even though I should be going to bed): Hearing from my Master that that one girl is hardly ever online any more makes me think, "I won." It's not that I haven't thought this before, but tonight I feel it even more strongly— I won. I beat out the young, sugar sweet "bisexual" kid that thought that being a pet was as easy as being 'cute.' It's not.

Yes, I have days when I'm exceptionally bitter and a tad incoherent. It happens.

Because I know that this particular weekday morning routine won't last forever, I wanted to jot it down for, oh, I don't know. Let's simply say that it's for posterity and leave it at that.

The Alarm

I have a regular clock radio. It sits on the nightstand on my side of the bed (my husband can't have one because there is a bookshelf taking up the space on the other side of the bed). I don't use this clock, however: I set my alarm on my cell phone instead. The reason for this is that 1) my husband uses the clock radio as his alarm, and 2) the music on my phone is so much cuter. (Silly, I know.)

I've been known to set it at different times, but I've recently been keeping it at a steady 9:15 am. The time normally doesn't matter since I tend to wake up long before the alarm is even set to go off, at about 9:00 am or so. While I toss and turn, I turn a careful ear to the sounds of what's going on outside— Namely, I'm listening for rain. If it is raining, my hopes get up: Foul weather means that I get a day off from my job, dog walking.

Since I usually don't hear the pitter patter of little drops, though, I toss until I finally get up. I grab my cell phone and change the alarm time to 10:00 pm— When I take my birth control pill every night.

Preparation

I have two sets of clothes: One for work and one for home. Work clothes consist of an athletic top (blue), athletic skort (pink), plain, white briefs, white ankle socks, and a white bra. I set these things out on top of the dresser every night before bed. The first thing I do after I get up and change the alarm on my cell phone is take off the underwear I've worn the night before and put on the briefs, the skort, the socks, and my running shoes.

When this is done, I take the rest of my outfit (the bra and top) and head to the bathroom. Yes, I'm running around totally topless at this point. While I'm brushing my teeth, I turn on my laptop and get my anti-virus and anti-spyware programs running. After brushing, I get out my SPF 50 sunblock and slather it on my arms (particularly the shoulders), my chest, my neck, and my face. Then, I spray on insect repellent and, finally, put on my bra and top. The last thing I do is brush my hair: It's a really simple process of brush back, part on the left side, and look awesome.

Food

For a while I went with eating just fruit, an apple and a banana, for breakfast. Lately, though, I've gotten into the habit of having a bowl of cereal with milk. I think it's because I hate the time it takes to peel an apple. I don't eat breakfast right away, though: I make lunches first.

The first lunch I make is mine because it's simple: Ham and cheese on wheat, no crust, triangle cut. W.'s lunch takes more time. His sandwich is twice as large, consisting of lettuce, tomato, cheddar cheese, turkey, and mustard on wheat bread. He keeps his crust but gets the same triangle cut that mine does. I pack his in his lunch bag and include a Dr. Pepper and a 1/3 cup of dried fruit mix. I sort of wish he'd start drinking just water or juice like I have, but, well, he loves his Dr. P too much.

After his lunch is packed, I put it in the refrigerator and bring down my cooler. I pack in the Blue Ice, my sandwich, and two bottles of water: One large one and one small one that's been sitting in the freezer for a while to get just a little frozen. By doing this, the large one is used up by the afternoon and the small one is still ice cold and ready to rock my world with its hydrating goodness. Once the cooler is all packed up, I put it on the table.

And then I have breakfast.

The Rest of It

Everything else in my morning is pretty miscellaneous. Until my Master went to work this week, I'd normally call him whenever I was finished with breakfast. Now that he's at work in the morning, I look forward to him calling me whenever he gets a short morning break. We talk while I make sure all the scans have run correctly and show no bad results, and I usually catch up on my online comics, frequent reads, and deviantArt messages.

When it's 10:15 am, it's time to go. I pack up my doggy bag and load up my pockets: Keys, Mutt Mitts, and my Tracfone go in the right pocket, while my car key and AT&T phone go in my left. I make sure that I have everything and head on out the door to start my day. It might look a little funny to some— I carry a purse, a purple bag full of doggy supplies (leashes, a spare collar, tennis balls, a frisbee, and towels), and a cooler under my arm all at once. But, well, that's just how I get things done. Since it all fits so well between the driver's and passenger's seat, it's the best configuration I've found so far.

I can't wait to look back at this entry a couple of months from now to compare how much my morning routine will have changed.

If I had to give my opinion on what the single hardest part of being a pet would be, I would say it's the shaving. Not just the shaving of my armpits and legs, mind you (which is a standard for most women), or even the mowing of the dreaded bikini zone, but the total, utter removal of all pubic hair. (Of course, when I say "being a pet," I mean "being a pet under my Master, since the commands and expectations vary from relationship to relationship.)

Knowing that I would have to complete this task sometime before I left for Florida and that I had the time to do so today, I decided to get down to business. To put it simply: Shaving the pubic area is hard. The hair grows in all sorts of directions, one can't readily see what one is doing, the hair is coarser and more resistant, and the area itself is very sensitive. The slightest mishap can render me miserable for a week at the least.

So, I went at it simply. First, I started with a comb and a pair of ordinary scissors and basically trimmed down as far as I could. Then, I used two different types of electric shavers to get rid of all the hair on the mound. After that, I applied a liberal amount of Nair and waited past the 'just three minutes!' that the box proclaims (it always seems to take double the time to work on me) to rub the stuff off. "I'm almost there!" I said to myself, already tired of the process and not at all convinced that the cream smelled like the cute melons advertised on the bottle. The next step was to use the 'intimate' shaver to comb over the areas that I missed... and, finally (!), the last step was to go over the whole area with a regular stick shaver.

I know it seems like a lot for one little area, but this is the only way I've found that works without causing me too much irritation. I used to try to do it all with Nair, but that really irritated me: The other alternatives by themselves never worked out too well, either. It was only through a combination of them all that I could find myself able to beat the bush, as it were.

Now, if I could only remember to maintain this area as well as I do the other ones... Then I'd be set!

Two days ago, I misjudged the space I had between a trailer and a fence and wound up crunching the right side of my car into the fence. The fence didn't break like I had expected it to (a blessing I'm still counting, among other things about this minor, non-fatal accident), but my sliding door caved right in. Now, the damage itself is pretty much superficial (another thank God moment). Everything works, even the automatic locks; however, I really shouldn't put off getting it fixed simply because I think, "I can deal with it."

So, for the first time in my life I filed an insurance claim. Since the policy belongs to my parents, I called them and told them that it was going to happen. My dad's reaction was as I had expected it to be: Jovial, but cutting. I didn't need to be told that it was a mint condition car or to be treated like I ran into things every day. I hate knowing that even if I beat myself up over this stupid mistake that it won't end there— Good ol' dad's always there to make sure I feel miserable about it!

Anyway, the total damage to my wallet per the estimate of the place I want my car fixed at comes out to $2,145.80. That's a huge chunk from me, so I'm hoping that the insurance is full coverage and that, at most, I'll have a $500.00 deductible to pay. I can do that. I can swing that. I just pray that that's what I'll have to do and swing. On the other hand, I'll also have to figure out what to do about transportation. As it is, I'm planning on using W.'s car and making the best I can of the situation. It shouldn't be so bad. My biggest concern, though, is if the car will be ready in time for my move to Florida.

I sure hope it is. God, please let it all just turn out all right. Okay?

Well, I have to admit it— I didn't go the whole week without a soda. W. and I ate out at Bennigan's on Tuesday (1 and a half glasses of soda), at Chili's on Thursday (two glasses of soda), and we ordered a pizza on Friday (one can of caffeine-free Pepsi). Now, while I could go and beat myself up and wail things like, "I'll never get this right!" and "When will I stop destroying myself!?" I said: "Hey, compare the numbers. You're doing all right, chicky." And I really think I am at that.

I set up my own bank account on Friday. There's a pretty good amount in my new checking and savings. I'm rather proud of what I've been able to keep for myself. It was a little less than I'd hoped for, but it was silly to think that the severance from my previous job could have remained fully intact after the holidays and my first trip to Florida and everything else. All in all, I'm glad that everything went so smoothly: Now I just have to get other stuff done before I go! I need maps, boxes, to pack stuff up if I can...

Oh! Back to the subject of sodas— I did actually lose some weight this week! It wasn't much, but I went from 143 lbs to 139 lbs. Or at least that's how much I weighed before I ate lunch. I'm going to weigh myself again tomorrow morning in my underwear, after I go to the bathroom but before I eat anything. I weigh myself like that because I'm aware that the body's weight fluctuates throughout the day and I'd rather get it before too many changes have occurred. It's not because I think that's when I weigh the lightest, either: It's just a consistent scale I like to use when checking my weight. As of right now, though, I'm happy, and I think that the results are in all around: I put on a skirt today that's usually just a bit tight around my middle, but it wasn't tight at all today! So that shows that there's some shrinkage going on!

I know, I know. More random and less meaningful blather from me. Right now I'm going to head to bed with a book I picked up from a friend today that I loaned to her and haven't read in a while. Be Honest— You're Not That Into Him Either: Raise Your Standards and Reach for the Love You Deserve, by Ian Kerner, Ph.D. Although I do know what I want and am going for it (almost viciously at times!), it helps to read something that encourages me. Jazzes me up, you know?

It's been three days since I've set lips on a cold, bubbly, caffeine-laden soda. I have to be frank— It hurts. In retrospect, I probably should have chosen to give it up after the week of my period, not during. Oh, well. I have to remind myself that not only is this (the feeling of 'hurt') a huge sign that I really should give up this habit, but that it can no way kill me if I do. I've already found that the ladies of Skinny Bitch were right about one thing: After having nothing but water for a while, a cup of juice is practically orgasmic (however, they'd probably screech at me because the juice I'm drinking is Minute Maid and not some vegan/organic/hand-squeezed stuff).

Lately I've found that the prices of meat are extremely expensive. Today I bought a pound of ground turkey for $2.29 (not so bad, actually) and a pound of precut chicken breast for $4.59. Although now that I think about it, I probably just got lazy when searching for the chicken and decided to go with the precut chunks instead of the usual breast. Then again, the breast strips were something like $6.10. Then again, I think they had more to them. Ah, well. The point is that when I look at good chicken and turkey meat it's one price, but when I look at cheap beef and hot dogs it's totally different. It just pisses me off for some reason.

But, yeah. Day 3. Without a soda. I've had another nap today, but I'm not sure if that's related to not having soda or if it's related to starting my period. I hope it's the latter and that if it is actually either or both or whatever that the tiredness will eventually go away. If not, then I'm going to have to seek a different strategy and that would piss me off even more.

Well. It's about time I got back to working on my deck. Children's card games are an awesome distraction, you know.

This is boldly shouted in big, red letters on the back of the book Skinny Bitch, by Rory Freedman and Kim Barnouin, a book I picked up last night when W. and T. and I took a trip to Borders after dinner. It didn't take long for me to read the whole thing through— at only 13 small chapters (the book has a total of 224 pages, including recommended reading, sources, and endnotes), it wasn't hard to finish it all in about four hours or so (with distractions, of course).

I like the book. Most of it, anyway. There are a lot of things that make sense and that I agree with: For example, soda truly is "liquid Satan." I've known for years and years that I should cut soda out of my diet; I was just lazy about it because I liked the taste and the caffeine. I also agree with the parts about eating more fruits and veggies. I love fruits and, honestly, I should get to love or at least like more vegetables. I was happy to see that potatoes weren't bashed right on the spot and were actually called a good food (if they're not fried, anyway). It gives me a bit of hope.

I don't necessarily agree with the chapters about meat and dairy, but I don't have to in order to get the gist of the book: Eat better stupid! So I'm going to try.

What's first? Soda! W. recently restocked my supply of Mountain Dew and I realize how hard it will be for me to give it up, especially since I know the headaches will come. But I'm going to try. I don't have anything to do today but laundry here at my parents' house, so it shouldn't matter if I have a headache. I'll take a nap if I do. I'll be fine.

Next: Fruit for breakfast. It was said that fruit is better when eaten alone, so I'm thinking that, first thing in the morning I'll have an apple and a banana. I might carry a bag of almond crisp cereal with me for a snack and still have my normal lunch with me, but won't eat the cereal until at least 30 minutes after I've finished eating the fruit (maybe even 45 just to be sure) and won't eat lunch until I'm ravenous for it.

I'm also going to keep track of what I eat and how I feel after I eat it (don't worry, I'll privatize those since I realize that they'll be even more frequent and boring than my usual fare). I agree that it's not enough to keep a food diary, but a food and feeling diary. Some questions I can recall the book asking are: How do you feel when you're eating it? After you've eaten it? An hour later? Before you sleep? When you get up in the morning? Also, keeping track of what my leavings look like. Lately they've definitely been worrisome-looking, and it makes me especially nervous because I've been the one doing most of the cooking last week. If we had eaten out a lot I'd understand, but when I'm the chef and I come out runny, it's disconcerting.

One thing I want to note: Just because I like something doesn't mean I agree with all of it. I definitely don't want to become a vegan like the book recommends. I definitely hate the idea that just because I'm not willing to spend money on vegan and organic foods that I'm obviously wasting it on something else. It's simply not true and it's really asinine to assume that that's always the case. I've got my tastes and I've got my obligations, and I refuse to not be proud of myself if I get rid of a few of my vices just because I haven't gotten rid of them all. That's silly and defeating and, quite frankly, unhealthy.