My secret public journal:  I started weight watchers today.  I've committed to 3 months.  I'm starving.  I lost .8 lbs overnight.  I'm starving.

Yesterday weigh in:   166 Lbs.
  -  New scale, now that's better . . . . .
Last night weigh in:    161.4 Lbs.
This morning (before breakfast):  160.8

Instant Oatmeal with equal, medium banana, coffee with instant creamer, 1/2 cup 1% milk  -  Yummmmm

I get to eat 26 points a day.  Tom gets 51 !!  My  breakfast was 5 points.  Lunch and dinner looks bleak or I have to get REALLY creative.  I don't want to buy a bunch of fancy this and that to enhance the experience.

So Sad, no patty-melts.

The Tax Man, yeah eh, the tax man....

So I mistakenly looked at his face. Why? Big spider monkey eyes sunken in gray flesh. Drooping mouth that appeared to be suspended and dangling from deep frown lines. Not a happy camper.  Then why is he dancing? I little jig.  Shuffle, shuffle, tap tap, kick.  Repeat.  He's 90 years old at least.  His suit was immaculate. Clean, well fitting, bright RED, WHITE & BLUE, starched and perky.  Not like the others who wear the one size fits all sun faded gown and crown exposing pant legs and facial hair.  This guys wife probably told him he couldn't go out looking like THAT!  I can see her mending, ironing, starching and patching with a vengeance the well worn issued uniform of the Liberty Tax street corner clown.  But I see his eyes.  I want to cry. Why does this 90 something need to do this?  What happened to make it necessary for him to spend his golden years shuffling for minimum wage? I want to turn around and give him a dollar.  Then across the street, yet another bouncing icon of liberty and justice waves her banner in Spanish - must be the wife. Decked out to perfection.  She is smiling with a hint of desperation, her wave too exaggerated - her liberty crown sparkles. I barely overcome my sadness with him when she conjures up deep feelings that rise in my throat. I have to look away.  NOoooo. Red light.  Just my luck.  I wait and busy myself with the console panel and find it necessary to bend over and look into my glove box, adjust my mirrors - ANYTHING to keep from looking.  

Is it just me?  Isn't it cruel, or something, to ask our elderly to perform on street corners in all types of weather, sucking in auto fumes and street dust?  I guess that's the beauty of a free society.  We all make our own decisions and have a choice - yeah right.

Med Update:  Arm doing real good.  Saw the oncologist-she forgot I'm mono-boob and scheduled me for a mammogram of my right breast.  I was laying down in her office and she saw the look on my face when she mentioned it.  She quickly peeked under my drape and smiled -  Ooops. Let's do a colonoscopy instead.  Well gee thanks! That and another bone scan in 6 months.  Keeping me healthy so I can dance on a street corner one day.