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Woke up at 4 A. M.  Made myself stay in bed until 5:30 on the chance I’d fall back asleep, no dice.  Next time, if I lay out my clothes for the next day I can quietly dress and get started on the morning.  As is, I got less sleep, but didn’t get as big a jump on the day.  I mean if I’m going to wake up, might as well get to work.  Dawn is just lighting the sky to grayish white, even the first light of day seems tired and washed out.  Maybe I’m projecting?  Could be. 

If I could just get to work I’d be okay with it all, but the dog trainer is coming at 8:30, so about the time I really work up a head of steam, I’ll be forced to stop.  We’ve had her in for several days to help work on Pip’s issues with strange dogs.  Ironically, every day she’s walked him to see how he reacts, she hasn’t seen a single dog, besides our own.  I’m beginning to see why Cesar Milan sometimes brings along one of his own dogs, usually Daddy, to play the part needed.  She’s coming earlier today, because most of our neighborhood walks their dogs either before work, or after, so she’s been missing them by a hair. 

Part of my mood, I know, is that I fell so far off the food wagon yesterday at Thanksgiving that I’m paying for it today.  According to the scale here, which is a pretty good scale, I’ve gained two pounds and a few ounces.  Two pounds of turkey, stuffing, rolls, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin pie.  It seems a little harsh, but numbers don’t lie.  The one thing the Jenny Craig is low on is starches, and I had a starch fest yesterday.  I knew better, but . . . . Was it worth it?  No.  I know how much work it’s going to take to get those two pounds back off,  not to mention the ounces, they take work, too.  Everyone kept telling me, it’s just for one day.  You can treat yourself.  Treat?  The food was good, but the exercise, the dieting, to get it back off, no, it wasn’t worth it.  Because, the worst thing is that having once fallen off, you want to keep falling.  I want more sweet potatoes.  Damn it.  So, not only do I have to be good, but I’m left with cravings that I had gotten past.  Curses.  Stupid sweet potatoes, stupid cheese.  Okay, I don’t regret the cheese.  It was five year aged cheddar, the kind that comes from a small farm, wrapped in cloth, in the shape of a wheel.  Real cheese.  It was one of the best cheeses I’d ever tasted,  but more than that, it was definitely the best cheddar I’d ever had.  I didn’t eat two pounds worth of the aged cheddar, but that would have been worth it.  I wish I’d skipped the sweet potatoes, and the rolls, must have stuffing, but I don’t regret a single bite of the cheddar.  The pumpkin pie, well that’s a harder call.  If I’d stopped at one piece, it would have been fine.  I was weak.

So, I’ve been awake since 4, and can’t go to work, because of the trainer coming, and we gave everyone the day off.  Why can’t Jon do it?  Crutch boy can’t work with Pippin on his leash, when part of the problem is lunging.  Oh, yeah, let me go to work, put Jon with Pip, and let him reinjure his knee because I wanted to get to work on time.  Nope.  So, I’m a cranky, cranky girl this morning.  I put on jewelry, and it wasn’t my usual choices.  I looked them up in the big book of stones and almost all the choices are emotional balancing stones.  I think the universe, make that Universe, is trying to tell me something. 

I’ve eaten breakfast.  I’ll go meditate.  I’ve got time to do that, and I think I need it.  Ground, center, clear your mind.  Crap.

Strike that whole meditation thing, must feed dogs first.  No one else awake and at work to do it.  Pooh.

I know where a lot of the frustration comes from, the book is going well.  I worked past the rabbit hole, and came out the other side yesterday.  I know what happens next.  We’re really close to the end.  I’ve got that push for completion running through me like a building pressure.  A pressure to get to my desk, and WORK.  When the book gets to that level of heat, anything that interferes with the process is maddening.  It’s like one minute I was running free in the jungle with the scent of a kill so close my claws got the edge of something furry and fast, and then I’m slammed into a cage; a cold, dark, isolating, infuriating cage.  I want to pace and snarl and beat at the bars.  Let me out, let me work, let me finish!  If everyone would just leave me alone I could finish.  Okay, if I had more help at the house, I could finish, so I guess it’s not exactly alone I’m needing.  Normally, Jon is more help, but as I wrote above, it’s too big a risk to put him with the big, puppy right now.  So, I’ll grump, and I’ll fume, but in the end I must master myself and my mood.  Most of the time, it isn’t what happens to you, but how you react to what happens, that determines how you feel.  I’m not in control of Jon’s injury, or Pip’s temperamental moments, but I can be in charge of myself.  Okay, self, stop whining, and get a grip.  I can go to work after the trainer leaves.  That pessimistic voice that I grew up with, doesn’t believe that.  Nope.  The voice in my head says, that once the morning is ruined, the day is ruined, and there is no recovering it.  Not true, unless I make it true.  Out, out, bad mood.  Must think more positively.  Must think more positively.  Must think . . . Screw it, I’ll play to my strengths.  Ahhhh!  Cry of rage and frustration.  Way past due for a trip to the shooting range.  Tired of my ankle still being so fracked up that I can’t get on the treadmill without pain.  Need to do more to releave stress.  If I could get to my desk and finish the damn book, I’d be less stressed.  F**ck.  Deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, concentrate on the breathing.  Stupid yoga breathing, it really does help.  That’s better.  Okay, I’m off to finish the dogs and getting ready before the trainer comes.  May your morning be peaceful.  Breath deep, let it out slow, and I’ll try to do the same.