Finnegan the Squirrel. Awww, now that is the cutest thing ever! An orphaned baby squirrel adopted by a mama dog and her puppies.

Oof, we had the hardest boxing class last night. It was led by a new instructor, this deceptively tiny little Irish girl who morphed into freakin’ Mike Tyson whenever she was demonstrating our combinations. I was feeling pretty good thoughout, despite sweating so much that I looked like I’d been caught out during that freak downpour yesterday afternoon. (Thanks, hypnotherapist!) Afterwards the Snook and I went down to get changed, but once I hit the locker room I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to barf. It was like in high school when they work you so hard on a hot day that you can’t help but throw up. I sat there for ages willing myself not to yuke. I finally made it out to meet the Snook, who took about two seconds to diagnose the situation: “What’d you eat for lunch?” “Salad, fruit, muesli bar…” “When?” “11:30…. Oops.” Luckily I had a banana in my bag which I sloooowly began to eat on the walk home. Within a few blocks I was feeling better. Note to self: Don’t go seven hours without eating before a boxing class ever again. I’m still feeling the effects of the workout today; my shoulders are killing me! The interesting bit is I’m pretty sure I heard the instructor in the locker room afterwards (through my haze of nausea) saying that she’d mixed the music herself. I wonder if I could persuade her to try one of Max’s mixes next time?

Ooh, how cute! A baby cardigan with the interlocking ND on the back. I need that chart.

I’d be all about a heated bra, but I certainly don’t want one covered in faux fur.

Yay! Another Domer from the Class of ’99 has ventured into the world of weblogging. Go over and say hi to Staci (who is also the wife of my friend Nat Cunningham and the Mom of Marianne and baby Ruth).

I was amused by this blog entry cataloguing various indie bands’ answer to the question: “Would you perform on The O.C.?” The great majority say they would, and the answers are pretty funny. (I love the one that says they would have preferred to play the Bronze. Totally.)

OMG Girlz Don’t Exist on teh Intarweb!!!!1 That article made me laugh. I’m not a hardcore gamer or anything but I can still remember the crazy looks I’d get when the Snook and I went to the retro games store in London. Not to mention all the karma I’d get on Slashdot by inadvertently revealing my gender in a comment… (Link courtesy of Geek-fu.)

I walked into the meeting tonight expecting a modest loss. I’ve been good all week: I faithfully tracked my Points; I got lots of exercise; I drank lots of water. I even went to the grocery store and stocked up on healthy snacks to keep at work so I wouldn’t be tempted to eat junk food. And of course, there was that whole hypnotism thing, not that I seriously expected it to make much difference. I mean, she’d told me that my metabolism might rise a bit, and that I might sweat a bit more when I exercised – (My response? “That would not be possible.”) – but I didn’t really expect it to make much of a difference. So I climbed on the scales… and HOLY CRAP, EIGHTY-SIX KILOS. I swear to God that they read eighty-nine last week. A three kilo drop? That’s like six-and-a-half pounds! There’s just no way. I didn’t have a baby or anything. So I tried to rationalize it: Maybe I read the scales wrong last week. Maybe it was all water weight. Maybe the scales were miscalibrated. Maybe I was wearing really heavy shoes or something. But all along, a little voice inside my head was whispering, “But maybe… it was MAGIC!” Whatever the reason, I am back on track, baby! That’s officially 14.1 kilos lost in total, and if all goes well I’ll be down to fifteen next week. (And I get to buy my new Crocs!)