You'd think I was really busy, possibly neck deep in inlaw woes. But no. I've just been busy with a whole lot of nothing. And a stomach virus. Besides the virus, I've been quite happy with the nothingness. It's nice not to do much of anything or have much of anything to worry about. No, my inlaws didn't patch things up, but I realize I have no control over that situation. I'll just handle what comes and enjoy the time when no fur is flying.

It's not that I truly did nothing all this time. Late Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, Hammy woke up and barfed in his bed and over the edge of his bed, which wouldn't be that big a deal except that his bed is about five feet off the ground. I spent the wee hours of the morning cleaning barf splatters and then listening to the poor boy dry heave for the next six hours. Wednesday was a great day at work after that. It was really funny when I got a phone call at work from Hammy.

Hammy: Mommy.... Daddy's in the bathroom throwing up right now!
Me: Oh yeah?
Hammy: Yeah, I can hear it!

I laughed my ass off and told the whole office who proceeded to laugh their asses off with me. We had a whole lot of detached ass that afternoon. One of the patients mentioned that it was probably the first time my son has ever heard his dad throw up. Fortunately, that's true, and it made such an impact that he had to call me at work and tell me about it.

So... my family was dropping like flies, and I had to go home. I started to wonder if that queasy stomach I had all day wasn't from a lack of sleep as I first suspected. Booie had thrown up over the weekend, but we thought it was from having been hit in the head by the ceiling fan, which sounds really weird until you factor in that she was in Hammy's loft bed when Hammy decided it would be a good idea to turn on his fan. So it turns out that she probably wasn't concussed as we suspected but the first to fall to the stomach bug that ate Pittsburgh. Viruses are preferable to concussions anyway, except that we all get to share the effects.

I went home and had a healthy dinner of a small scoop of ice cream. I took care of my sick husband until I had to lie down myself. I started getting so very, very cold. My head was hurting. I took a hot bath. I lay on the couch some more. And finally, I went to the bathroom, but the barf wouldn't come. I never threw up. I just felt miserable and visited the bathroom for other reasons. I lay around all day Thursday. By Friday I felt better and went back to work. At least this virus, unlike the stupid weather, knows what days I work and adjusted accordingly.

After all that, we had a recovery weekend. Hammy had some friends over, and John and I played games all weekend long. Sunday, I never got out of my pajamas.

Then it was back to work on Monday and going for a walk afterward with my running-now-walking partner. We've been talking about getting together for three weeks now, but she sprained her ankle and then it kept snowing every Monday. It was absolutely frigid yesterday, but we walked anyway. I didn't realize how cold my fingers got until I went to get my keys out of my pocket and couldn't tell the difference between a paper receipt and my keyring. My fingers hurt like hell and took the whole forty-minute ride home to warm up. Meanwhile, I could feel sweat rolling down my back. Humans were not made for cold. That's all there is to it.

For the first time since I got my pedometer last Monday, I broke the 10,000 step mark by taking that walk. I broke it and then some. When I started walking, I had about 5500 steps. By bedtime, I wrote down 15,544 in my logbook. Getting 10,000 steps a day is not as easy as I thought it might be.

I decided to buy a pedometer the weekend before last when John told me about a program at his job where they give workers a free pedometer and have them monitor their steps and increase on a weekly basis. I guess it's been a recommendation for a while now to get 10,000 steps a day. I don't know who recommended this. I suppose it's one of those medical community or exercise community things, but it's out there and apparently all the rage. John never told me about the program, but I found out through my running partner who also works at John's company. Then when I go to buy a pedometer, John tells me I could have had his for free, because he had signed up for the program. He thought he had some paperwork to fill out still, but it turned out his pedometer was sitting in his mailbox for at least a week. Goofball checks his email every ten minutes but doesn't check his regular mailbox for weeks. But where was I?

I bought my own pedometer and started keeping track last Monday. I didn't do terribly at 5500 steps, but I was a little disappointed it wasn't higher with all the walking back and forth I do at work all day long. It made me realize I'm not as active as I thought I was there and that it's no wonder I haven't been shedding pounds like Kaya sheds fur. My exercise days were better at 8500 and 6160. Saturday was dismal at 2854, and Sunday I didn't even attempt to attach the pedometer to my pajama pants. I doubt I broke 1500 that day. I didn't wear it Thursday either because the only walking I did was to and from the bathroom all day long, though I might have done more walking that day than Sunday. I am a sad creature.

The pedometer has been a wonderful thing for me. I realize how much I'm sitting and asking others to do things for me around the house. The kids, ever willing and helpful, are always running little errands for me when I could be doing them myself. Now I am doing them myself. I also get up and do things rather than thinking about doing them like I usually do. I'm always thinking of how I can increase my step total. I park even further away from places than I used to. I walk out of the way to get to where I want to go. I make more than one trip to carry things like groceries and laundry rather than trying to load myself down with as much as I possibly can. I was doing a lot of these things already, but the pedometer and step-counting made me aware of all the little improvements to be made.

I guess others don't feel so encouraged. Maureen was telling me how lots of people at work are quitting the program. I was surprised, because I felt so energized by the thing. As usual, I think everyone in the world thinks like I do. Thank God they don't, but in this case, that's too bad. I suppose seeing 2000 steps for a whole day when the recommended amount is 10,000 is pretty discouraging to a lot of people. It's especially hard when you have a desk job, I know. But really, I don't get all that much walking at work and most of my steps come from the walking I do to and from my car and various other activities. There are ways to get it in, but that could mean missing Fear Factor or some other terribly important television show or email or website.

And really, isn't that the truth? We all make excuses and talk about how busy and hectic our lives are, but I don't know anyone who doesn't have a favorite TV show. Or two, or three, or four. Everyone needs a break every once in a while, sure. But talking a walk can be that break. I don't think there are any studies showing TV or the Internet to be particularly stress-reducing. Walking is a proven form of stress reduction as are most forms of exercise. But people see that as just another thing to add to their schedule, not realizing they have a schedule around the television set that doesn't seem to bother them one bit. I can at least admit I'm fat because I sit around too much. I watch too much TV, surf the Internet too long, check email too often, and, dare I say it, read too much instead of getting off my ass to make it smaller. Very few fat Americans are much different than I am. Having the break is much more important to us than taking care of our bodies.

I am changing that about myself. Yes, I've said it a million times. I didn't name my journal "From Now On..." for no reason. But today I was reading a message board (because I do still sit on my ass a lot), I came across a message from someone asking how she can help her mother get motivated to lose weight when her father had given up on her mom years ago. My first thought was that her mom will lose weight when she good and well wants to do it, and you can't make anyone do anything. And then I thought that while the dad might be sick and tired of hearing about this and that diet, it was terrible for him to give up on his wife. Maybe that will be what she needs. Some people are challenged by adversity. But most of the time, we fat people need the support no matter how many times we've messed up in the past. The whole world laughs at us when we say we're going to do it this time. Shouldn't the ones we love believe us each and every time? Yes, the word "should" is Utopian, but I can dream.

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