I was on the receiving end of a burst of ambition last week.  I decided (for a number of reasons that will NOT put in print) that I wanted to get back to where I was pre-wedding.  Single, happy, alone, without Nick all the damn time, also there were pets that I could cuddle.  Okay, okay I’m teasing good grief.  Pre-wedding I was exercising daily (except for weekends) and not eating very much sugar.  I would no white flour or simple carbs, but. . . nope.  However I had in effect shrunk my stomach and was eating smaller portions.  All was well.  And then. . .I got married and was shipped off to Disneyworld for a weekish.  It was very nice, (although I plan to disillusion any and all virgin brides I encounter in the future) and we had a lot of fun walking around.  However meals were included, and Disney is convinced a single person can eat two or three servings of pasta, one of meat, one of veggies, a juice or other non-water beverage, and a dessert as big as my two fists together, all in one sitting.  Even Nick, eater extraordinaire couldn’t finish it all.  Which meant I was eating maybe half.  Maybe.  Anyway, I stopped going for my daily walk.  Then we came home and I moved for the first time in my life.  I am not joking.  I moved out of my mother’s house, the house I came home to from the hospital, into my first apartment with my new husband.  So I spent a month pouting.  And then I spent another month not wanting to leave the house because my new neighborhood was larger than my old one, and therefore was scary.  And people might see me walk.  And then shank me.  And then in an attempt to fatten up my husband, I started cooking.  And then eating the leftovers because the turkey butt wouldn’t eat them, he’d go for a freezer burrito first.  But he’d eat cookies!  So I made cookies all the time.  Are you seeing the problem here?
Anyway, I set myself three goals, that I’m not sure I want to say here.  Because then I’ll have to tell you if they don’t happen, or if they do.  And I’m not fond of accountability, man.