I've mostly noticed it when I'm standing in front of the bathroom mirror. There's this distinctive pudge that pooks out from my shirts; sometimes I feel like I look six months pregnant. I can't figure out if I'm imagining this pudge or if it's actually there.

I periodically get on the scale to see where I am, to sort of put things in perspective. I was getting on the scale almost once a day (yes, I know that's not the best way, but I do it anyway because I'm curious) after I restarted my walking program. I got incredibly frustrated with Byetta not really working and with gaining and losing the same 4 lb. in the course of several months. I was close to tossing the scale out the window. (READ MORE)

So, here it is almost a full week into September and I haven't set any goals for myself yet. Haven't put a pretty, lined sticky note on my computer monitor to remind me what I'm working toward for the next four weeks. Maybe it's because I started ignoring my August goals so early in the game.

It wasn't long before I was looking at that blue sticky and thinking to myself that I should just take the darn thing down already. I mean, the only thing I was really sticking to-save a bad cold-was walking at least five times a week.

While I didn't meet my goals of testing after every meal and limiting myself to just one soda per day, I will say that having those goals staring at me did some good. I tested more often, although not often enough; and I did limit my soda intake, although not one per day; and I did dramatically increase my water intake. So there was quite a bit of good that came from setting those goals. (READ MORE)

While the title of this post is a play on the French "Poisson d'Avril" ("April Fools" is called "April Fish"), there's nothing funny about it.

We've heard about folk stealing one or more of Lance Armstrong's bikes, but a whole team's bicycles -- and not just that, but also their spares, parts, and tools?

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While my primary cycling fandom allegiance is to Team Type 1, since our household worships at the shrine of La Grande Boucle, you'll often find me streaming the day's race video on my computer, or when Versus or Universal Sports covers it, on the TV. So it was this morning, as the first of the three Grand Tours, the Giro d'Italia, played out its third stage.

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Other than the expected shock, you never know how you'll react to someone passing away in front of your eyes -- or while you are en route to a critically-ill relative -- until it happens. I don't usually experience grief in terms of torrents of tears. I do experience a degree of depression, and psychological paralysis, and for months afterward (sometimes even years!) I think I see deceased people walking in crowds (they're pretty obviously someone else who looks similar). Right now, logistics are the only thing in my mind.

Logistics -- not that my mother has left this world, and my father is in his own Alzheimer's world. How are we going to make sure my sister can continue to survive? How are we going to deal with personal effects? What can we keep, and how do we sell what must be sold? How are we going to foot the unpaid bills of burial -- not to mention whatever emergency-room bills follow?

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