weekend, not

This weekend is apparently buried under a lot of laundry and horrid domestic projects. I went through all of the children's clothes today, and I have five boxes to take to the Goodwill. Every morning Ella attempts to put on something too small and then throws it on the floor, so I've weeded out every too tight t shirt and skort. I made a big box for Ruby, and tossed the rest. Size twelve. My seven year old. She was squeezing into size seven leggings. I threw alway all of her gross brownish socks. I don't know how she gets them so dirty, but we are starting fresh. I organized John a little better so that he may better serve his own obsessive compusive behavior with clothes. One little dresser is all pants; the other is all shirts. Underwear and socks share a big drawer, and there is a drawer for pajamas, softie pants, and sweatpants. Ruby is about to outgrow every single thing she owns when the weather turns cold. She will have some old baby pants of John's and a sparkly tutu. I passed her old Bobux on to Miss Madeline and ordered her a fresh pair for cold weather, and they are beautiful. Brown suede with a faux fur lining and a little suede rose.

I started my day with my first actual Weight Watcher's meeting. It was really nice, but I left it in a foul mood. Now I've really got to do this monstrous thing. I've been hungry for two weeks, and apparently I'm going to be hungry for a lot longer. I'm commited. I've lost eight pounds, and that feels really good. I do already have a lot more energy. This week I've got to get to the gym and walk.