The new scale weighs in 4/10ths of a pound lower than the old one, so you would think I would be happy, but it feels like cheating, and besides, I'm not trying to lose any more weight. The old scale has recorded my ups and downs since the morning of my gastric-bypass surgery. I like continuity, and the fact that the old scale is finally dying from advanced old age and perhaps even extreme overuse doesn't change that fact.
Here in my world, we are in transition. Translation: new judge. This happens every two years or so, and for someone like me, who gets rattled over a new bathroom scale, that is much too often. Since I have been practicing almost exclusively in the juvenile division since 1992, that's a whole lot of change. Especially as juvenile court seems to have become a traditional first assignment for a newly elected or newly appointed circuit court judge. Every new judge who has ever come on this bench has their own ideas about how to improve the way the courtroom runs. That's natural, I get it. I always try to roll with the punches as I endeavor to follow the new judge's paradigm. Most of the time I am successful, and the judge is relatively happy.
But it's a lot of change. I can't emphasize that enough.
1/30 - Just because the past two days were bearable doesn't guarantee today will be relatively pain-free. Au contraire, my frere ... today's discomfort is a full-body experience. Still, I am grateful for my ability to function in the office and in court, and I did manage to get quite a bit done during those two days. When I have good days, I feel guilty about what seems to me to be my never-ending bitching about this ache or that pain, especially when I have so many people close to me who are dealing with real medical issues like cancer, multiple sclerosis, kidney failure, cancer, diverticulitis, cancer (damn cancer) ... and then I have a bad day and I remember this is a real medical issue that can land me flat on my back and render me useless, or at the very least, stupid. Today my mind is blessedly clear. The pain, however, which was mild when I started the day, has escalated alarmingly. Hurts to stand, hurts to sit, hurts when my very small dogs jump against me to greet me. My head hurts, my eyes hurt, and my arms don't bear speaking about. Today's pain I blame on the environment of change in which I find myself immersed. Too many stressors. Too many notes. Maybe too many dogs.
As the work week winds down, my mind is wandering into the food zone. I have pork loin and stuffed red peppers, pork chile verde, and even some lasagna all cooked up in the refrigerator. Gotta strike a balance but also have to remember that there are no chicken wings available in the entire state of Florida. Super Bowl weekend. Since I don't get football, and have no reason to cheer on either of these teams, I can look for another part of the chicken. Perfhaps the thighs. I don't think chicken thighs are symbolic of Super Bowl Sunday. Unless you wrap them in bacon. Anything wrapped in bacon is a Super Bowl food. I think there is some Federal law that addresses it, perhaps one of those Executive Actions the White House is so fond of proclaiming.
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