I'm applying for work, actually rather avidly.

I thought I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up, but my knee has other ideas. I think God has other ideas for me and I just wish I was in on the plans.

I'm applying for social work kinds of things. The vocational rehab person thinks I'd do well to get a mster's in social work. I actually kind of agree. It fits my "save the world now" mentality probably better than teaching, where there are so many more political toes and I'm a regular sasquatch.

My weight is hideous right now and my diabetes is kicking my ass. I've got elephankles...it's like being pregnant in August. My sugars and food are tight, my water retention is not. I was exercising, but my brother-in-law is visiting and I feel awkward dragging him to the gym with me.

Mike said he felt embarrassed sometimes to exercise in front of other people. I guess I feel the same way. He's a nice guy and incredibly fit and I just can't even face up to the idea of comparing my hideous out-of-shapeness against his holy cow kick-assness. I like exercising with Mike. It's fun. I push him. He teases me. We help each other stretch. My shoulders are so tight and it feels delicious to stretch with him. We perv on each other a little in the pool afterwards giggling if I give him tentage. I feel like a teenager in love with him all the time.

I feel singularly unmotivated to be in a swimsuit in front of his brother though.

I know. I need to get over it, but I also know his family is completely grossed out by the fact that Mike is a a fatty chase and thus, also grossed out by me. This feeds into all of my insecurities that made me a crazy bulimic in high school with my mother.

So my response has been to eat carefully instead. I'm munching on blackberries and blueberries today. He keeps says he's going to leave, but he enjoys playing with the kids and Mike. I bought a scoop catch game in the bargain bins at Target and sent him and the kids out of the house to play it, while Mike and I worked on dinner. Genny came in smelling like a sweaty kid. There's nothing that smells sweeter to me.

Russell said he had to write a two voice poem for English. I thought I'd write one about him and me and how we view poetry. It'd be funny. It involved him plugging his ears and yelling, "What?! I can't hear you!" at the top of his lungs.

Freaking teenager!