Monthly Archives: February 2024

The most insulting loss of all…

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I had a whole post teed up from over the weekend. It should have been sitting here safely waiting on me to do some final edits in Word before dropping it over into WordPress for publication. However, it’s currently not sitting anywhere on my computer. There’s no record that I even edited or saved any documents over the weekend. It’s also not in WordPress. Not in my drafts, not sitting in my scheduled posts file, or anywhere else.

It has well and truly disappeared. And frankly, I don’t have the energy to put into trying to recreate it from scratch.

As of a couple of weeks ago, I’ve officially made 4,000 separate blog posts dating way, way back to February 2010. I say 4000, because that’s how many I’ve written – well, 4,004 including this one. I’ve only made 3,989 of them public. Believe me when I tell you the ones that are sitting there in private mode are some real humdingers. Most of them won’t see the light of day until after I retire, if then. They’re the few examples of times I couldn’t tell the story while obscuring at least some identifying elements slipping through. 

In any case, after 4,000+ posts, you can count on one or two fingers the number of times I’ve simply had one of them eaten whole. That’s the entire reason for my workflow of writing everything first in Word. I don’t expect this to become a common occurrence, but it does mean I’m going to have to take some time coming up with a better failsafe. I’ve got too many things sitting here in various stages of draft to worry that they’re going to randomly start disappearing.

At least I’m not getting paid for this, so all I’ve lost is time… though that may be the most insulting loss of all. 

Bait and switch…

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Back in July of last year, when the medical appointments were coming fast and furious, the doc advised me to, among other things, drop 100 pounds. I weighed in at 330 that morning. I can’t argue that I hadn’t been carrying around too much weight for too long. 

At last week’s follow up, I tucked in about 8 pounds short of the goal. I was feeling reasonably proud of myself for not immediately reverting to old habits the moment I started feeling a bit better. 

That’s when the old boy did a bait and switch on me. 

I know we talked about an even hundred, he said, but I want you to take it down another 30 from there. 

Two hundred pounds flat is where they want me now. I’ve been trying to play along with all this like a good little trooper, but fuck me. 

I was close enough to taste a meal that didn’t have to have every ounce of joy sucked out of in an effort to stay under an 1800 calorie daily limit while not being ravenous enough to ponder gnawing off my own arm. And then they moved the fucking goalposts. 

I woke up this morning with 33 pounds left to drop instead of the 3 I was expecting. Bet I’m not just a little bit salty about that.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Plant based. I like my GP. I’ve been seeing him since I returned to Maryland and in that time I’ve never felt rushed or blown off. As I’ve started losing weight though, he’s gotten a bit fixated on the “value of a plant based diet.” I’ve had to remind him repeatedly that I’m not in any way on the cusp of going veggie. I like beans and lentils well enough, but not as an absolute substitute for proper meat. Chicken features prominently and I’ve dramatically cut down on red meat and pork, but I need this guy to come to terms with the fact that every so often I’m going to have a cheeseburger or a good slice of roast. I’m willing to compromise and adapt, but I’m not entirely forgoing the best things in life indefinitely. Otherwise we’re not so much prolonging my life as just making it feel longer while every ounce of pleasure is sucked out of it.

2. Egg whites. I like eggs and used to eat a lot of them. A three or four egg omelet wasn’t unusual for breakfast. Because of the seemingly unsettled science of dietary cholesterol I’ve made an effort to cut back to just 3 or 4 eggs a week. But, they say, you can use egg whites and miss the cholesterol completely. Sure. I tried that. It’s hard as hell to turn egg whites into dippy eggs though. Egg whites make the worst egg salad I’ve ever put on a plate. An egg white omelet. Hard pass. I’ve given it the college try but I’m so very much not impressed with cartoned egg whites. They may be “better for you,” but in my estimation they’re not worth needing to clean the damned skillet.

3. Star wars. When I was a kid, one of America’s great presidents stood up and proposed a Strategic Defense Initiative to shield the United States from Soviet nuclear missiles. Never mind that the technology wasn’t there. Never mind the incredible cost to deliver it. Never mind that it would take decades of research to deliver on the promise of securing America from the ballistic missile threat. The very existence of SDI made the Soviets absolutely nutty and helped send them into a spending spiral from which their already questionable economy never recovered. So when, in 2024, I hear vague news reports of Russia wanting to put missiles in orbit, all I hear is history rhyming. I still like our chances of being able to spend this new Red Menace into oblivion if it comes to it.

The Deep State always wins…

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Well, here we are. The day after the Super Bowl. I haven’t had the news on yet, but I assume that means that we’re now firmly under the rule of the Deep State after the Kansas City Chiefs won the game and completed the greatest PsyOp in human history. 

Sadly, since it was a work night, I went to sleep before they showed Taylor Swift crowning Joe Biden Intergalactic Emperor for Life on the 50-yard line following the presentation of the Lombardi Trophy. I’ll have to pull up the pictures of that later. I’m sure it was a quiet tasteful ceremony. 

In any case, I’d like to formally congratulate the Deep State on winning Super Bowl LVIII. 

If there’s anything the red-pilled, basement dwelling, faux-alpha right wing should have learned by now it’s that, in the end, the Deep State always wins. 

On normalcy and not hitting the panic button…

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For as long as I can remember, every medical professional I’ve encountered told me that I’d feel better if I lost weight. Having lost a not inconsiderable number of pounds, I think they may have sold me a pig in a poke. The fact is, as far as I can tell, I don’t feel any better in February 2024 than I did in February 2023. How much of that is reality versus looking backwards with rose tinted lenses, I couldn’t tell you with any degree of accuracy.

I can say with some confidence that I’m feeling better today than I have since the end of June when all my latest health fuckery kicked off. I’ve worked myself off of being medicated for diabetes. I suspect the next time I see my GP, I’ll be instructed to start back off blood pressure meds. The anxiety, which at times was just about debilitating, has receded into a background hum which mostly crops up when I have the occasional odd ache or pain or when some vital sign pops off with an outlying reading.

Since none of my extremely well credentialed doctors seems to be concerned beyond “continue to monitor,” trying to get my head into a place where I don’t hit the panic button on a daily basis is probably the right thing, but it’s been challenging. Being someone who as a child was perfectly capable of worrying himself sick, this is a bit of a work in progress.

Even if none of that were true, I know I’m feeling better than I was in the summer and fall because my reading pace is picking up. Instead of sitting here in the evening holding a book and idlily flipping pages and being entirely distracted, I’m actually reading, comprehending, and burning through pages. My attention span is coming back. I’m intensely grateful for that… it’s been a long time coming.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Metrics. One of the things the medicos have had me doing for the last six months is a much more frequent bit of at home tracking. Blood sugar, heart rate, blood pressure, blood oxygen, everything gets tracked. It’s a fine bit of trivia and something that could theoretically be helpful for them, but all it seems to have done for me is generate a new obsession and a lot of fresh anxiety when a rogue value pops up or I see an unanticipated trend develop. While I don’t dispute the value of knowing a more granular level of detail, I can tell you with certainty that even though I was certainly less healthy six months ago than I am now, I absolutely felt better before I knew any of the specifics.

2. Time. By my calculation, it should be December 29th. Somehow, though, the calendar says it’s February 2nd. That can’t possibly be right, can it? I don’t know exactly the age I was when time started to speed up, but I seem to be noticing it speed by at an almost alarming pace these days. Oddly, it doesn’t make the work days seem any shorter, but the pace of moving from one week to the next is getting quite out of hand. I have no idea how one cuts back on the throttle there, but something must be done.

3. Taxes. I switched my Roth IRA from one institution to another this year. During the transition, I managed to add in about $50 more than is allowable by law. The penalty, if left uncorrected, is something like a 6% fine for every year the extra money remains in the account. It was easy enough to fix with a call to the company who holds the account, but the real absurdity is how little our common Uncle Sam will allow you to put away to grow for untaxed future withdrawals. There are articles posted regularly decrying how the Average American will be woefully unprepared for retirement. It seems to me that one way to get after that issue would be to dramatically increase the amount that people can legally shelter from the long arm of the tax man.